( closed )

[imaginate]

Characters: Kyle & various.
Date: Catch-all log for July.
Location: All around.
Situation: Various.
Warnings/Rating: War horrors, child abuse, mention of torture, physical and psychological.
Notes: [Action] or prose are all good. Ping me if you'd like a specific setup/threadstarter.

Comments

[jirk]

It's funny how his instinct's adjusted over the last few weeks, that when Kyle's like this Jim wants to reach out and touch him. But he doesn't. It would cost him too much right now, and he's. Going to be selfish for a while.

"What did it?"

[imaginate]

He doesn't mind, because his own need compensates, and a construct of Ion surrounds him, taking the place of the couch so that he's sitting, leaning into it comfortably. And he smiles, like he's meeting an old friend after a long separation, and reaches out to touch it. It nuzzles his hand and his expression fills with a delighted, rapturous joy.

(He's not afraid.)

He looks at Jim. 'James, this is Ion. Be nice.'

[jirk]

"... It's a whale." Yeah, that's. Really the only thing he's got. His expression is completely bemused and his tone about matches it.

[imaginate]

'A space whale,' Kyle says, delightedly.

Hey, the distinction was important.

[jirk]

"Why a whale?" HE REALLY CAN'T GET OVER THAT, OKAY.

[imaginate]

'No idea,' he says, simply. 'The other one I know of looks like a mutant bug, and that's,' his expression twists with darkness and hatred, 'disgusting.'

[jirk]

"Okay. So. Shiny green aquatic space whales. Got it. Ion. What's it do?" He reaches out to touch the construct, and it feels... weird. Different than Kyle's usual.

[imaginate]

The construct responds to Jim, too, it's always been a little more independent than the others he makes, because it's literally one of his own thoughts, alive.

'It's the pure, living manifestation of willpower.'

[jirk]

"Huh." That's literally the current extent of his vocabulary, and he just curls his fingers against the... space whale, near one of its fins as if he's scratching it carefully. Like, you know. A pet.

"And?"

[imaginate]

It wriggles; Kyle soothes it.

'And what? I was its host.' He catches himself before he says I am because it's not his any more, it belongs to his protege, who's dying.

[jirk]

The word host makes him feel vaguely sick. That's how they described the slug that the Romulans used on Pike-- something searching for a host. It makes him grimace a little.

"Just curious. I mean, why?"

CW possession

[imaginate]

His hand drops. 'The same reason they ask me to do anything. There was no one else.'

He strokes a hand against its side, careful. 'Everything comes with it. The entire universe; all sentient beings that will themselves to do something: breathe, move, speak, cry, sing, dream, suffer, live, and die... all of it will be inside you. And if you're lucky, you'll die instantly.'

A pause, and he adds, thoughtfully, 'Some go insane.'

[jirk]

He thinks about Vulcan, the telepathic backlash of it dying in his head, and his hand falls away from the -- space whale. Whatever.

"I meant more what's the point."

[imaginate]

'It's needed.'

And it's that simple, to him.

[jirk]

That grimace becomes more pronounced, but Jim says nothing. Just lapses into Kyle's language for a time. The whole universe, huh? No wonder Kyle's got a chip on his shoulder the way he does.

"So it's your serenity." It's a statement more than a question. He doesn't look at Kyle as he says it.

[imaginate]

'Yes.'

His voice is hushed, and he doesn't meet Jim's eyes either. I miss it.

[jirk]

This time, he does reach out. Pats Kyle's shoulder, and withdraws. It's the only thing he has to offer at the moment, and even that's hard to force himself into. But he does it.

[imaginate]

Kyle leans back and lets the construct wrap itself around him. It's comfort and he takes it (because that might be it, he'll get nothing more), and then he pops more toast in his mouth.

'It's not for everyone, I suppose.'

[jirk]

"Well, not if it drives people crazy. I guess it's a lot to deal with." And he gets that, he does. He hates having the dying voices of Vulcan in his head, but even if he could he wouldn't get rid of it. It's part of who he is, it's affected the judgements and calls he's made--

Having that on a broader scope, or scale? Yeah. He could see why it would drive people insane.

[imaginate]

He shrugs. 'It's just difficult to talk about. I get angry, sometimes.'

[jirk]

Jim gives him a vaguely curious look, one eyebrow arched.

[imaginate]

Kyle glances at him. 'I never had that much of a choice. Learn or die, remember?'

He made the choice to put on the ring, of course, and he could give it up, but after talking with Miria, he wondered if it was entirely as informed as he liked to think it was.

[jirk]

Like an anchor tied around your ankles during swimming lessons in a stormy sea. He snorts, and nods. There's a part of him that knows he doesn't get it, not the way Kyle needs, but he can commiserate anyway.

"You ever get the feeling that the universe loves to piss us off?"

[imaginate]

'All the time. I'm beginning to wonder if there's invisible targets painted on us.'

Jim focuses on the light and tries to take the suffering, he realises. Unlike Damian, who shares the darkness, and reaches for the other things. It was strange. But he was feeling better, slowly.

[jirk]

And he's feeling better too, he realizes. Useful. He wonders if that was intentional on Kyle's behalf, but it's so close to pity he doesn't want to entertain the thought. Instead, he shakes his head and gestures to the easel nearby.

"So what's on the agenda for today, Angel?"