tushanshu_logs | [EVENT] A NEW WORLD ORDER

[EVENT] A NEW WORLD ORDER

Characters: ALL!
Date: December 8, 2015 (with some starters for the following weeks)
Location: Keeliai, the Midnight Hotel, others
Situation: The Foreigners have awakened.
Warnings/Rating: Add warnings as needed.

They've been in the Dreaming for so long that when they wake up their bodies feel more like automatons, alien and ill-fitting. They haven’t atrophied, thanks to Milyn, but they’re stiff and a little bedsore, and the solidity of the Life Plane is jarring. Here, the surroundings don’t move on a whim. Here the world is more stable, almost harsh and unyielding in spite of the homey surrounds.

It’s been a year, says the clock on the mantle and on the second floor. Says Milyn, too, when she’s able to stop hugging them long enough to speak.

Nothing much has changed in the Midnight Hotel. There are dishes out of place, objects belonging to either Milyn or Eva in evidence, the diorama exactly where it had been but now brightly-painted thanks to Milyn's boredom. Milyn and Eva took a room each, in the time the Foreigners were sleeping, though neither used them much.

Eva’s upstairs, Milyn will tell anyone who asks. In her room.

Eva hasn't left that room in three days. She hasn't spoken in three days, either, or walked, or moved, or breathed. Her effects are neatly arranged around her bed, and the sheet has been pulled up. There is heavy incense in the room and Milyn has managed to preserve the body enough to remove the risk of too much mess (and other things). In a way, that makes it worse: as though Eva is sleeping. It’s difficult to tell whether Milyn is in denial or whether spending three days with no one to talk to other than sleeping Foreigners and a corpse has had its influence.

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Skulduggery tilted his head, eyeless gaze on both the wheelbarrow and Wreath's wandering hand. "I'll take that as a 'no'."

Not that he could blame him. Every single one of Skulduggery's fights was over, and he still shared that same suspicion - the certain knowledge that no matter how calm things got, there was always something new waiting around the corner. Something dangerous. Another fight that would never end. In Skulduggery's case, the suspicion was a tad more valid; despite his best efforts, he was never going to die.

"I'm the same Skulduggery as before," he reassured Solomon. "As far as that's possible, with a new year of memories."

"You're the same Skulduggery as before," said Solomon flatly, "and yet you want to hug me? I have to say, if you can't tell why I'm finding that difficult to reconcile then you lost a good deal of your intelligence while you were gone."

Skulduggery. Hugs. If he really was the same Skulduggery, what could possibly drive him to want to give Solomon a hug? It couldn't be something as simple Solomon's death; with the number of times Solomon had put himself in danger already, the idea that Skulduggery would react badly to it was absurd.

Oh. Unless-- "Did I lose myself to magic, over there?"

Not exactly death, but a loss of sanity that might have been enough to make Skulduggery react in such a way. Still, Solomon's tone was doubtful.

Edited 2014-12-11 09:53 (UTC)

"Lose yourself to magic?" Skulduggery almost laughed, but in respect to Wreath, he managed to avoid doing so.

Respect to Wreath. There was a motivation he never thought he'd be entertaining.

"No," he continued, a little more solemnly. "Over there, it was never an issue. If you'd prefer we keep our distance, you'll notice I haven't moved." Skulduggery gestured at the arch. "Do you need help moving that?"

Well, Skulduggery had no reason to lie, but Solomon still had to hesitate. If not that, then what? What could be so terrible that the great Skulduggery Pleasant would lower himself to tactility at all, let alone someone with whom he was only just beginning to repair a relationship?

Did Solomon want to know?

That thought was an odd one, but Solomon let it grow and studied Skulduggery, the way he hadn't moved, his posture. He didn't slouch, exactly, but there wasn't as much precision in the way he carried himself, either. As if he was too tired to care. And, to his surprise, Solomon found he didn't want to know. For whatever reason Solomon was here now, with no intention of going back without the memories he'd made here--or at all, if he didn't have to. What did he have that was worth going back to? And since there wasn't anything at all, what good was it to know things he wouldn't have to experience?

In the end Solomon shrugged and tossed the stone into the wheelbarrow, and turned back to the half demolished arch. "As you please. When has anyone been able to stop you, anyway?"

It was an open invitation, albeit grudgingly given. Still, Skulduggery hesitated. Helping to take apart and transport an arch was simple. Shouldn't he be taking solace in simple tasks? He thought he remembered Hopeless mentioning something about the healing power in letting one's mind wander, and that was the basis of the meditation which had saved Skulduggery's sanity all those decades ago.

Maybe that was it. Maybe he'd had too much solace recently. Maybe what Skulduggery wanted wasn't a simple task, or even a complicated one. Maybe what he really wanted was to try something utterly new.

"That's a no on the hug, then." Skulduggery nodded. "Alright. You can find me at the Hotel if you need me for anything else."

Solomon sighed. "Get over here and pick up that block." He pointed to one of the largest ones he hadn't yet mustered the energy to move. If Skulduggery wanted something to do, then Solomon could certainly oblige.

But the skeleton was almost ... uncertain, and uncertain with every moment instead of simply one. It was unnerving. Skulduggery wasn't one to show his trauma, no matter how much it battered at his sanity, yet here Solomon would almost think Skulduggery had given up. It put Solomon in the annoying position of having to play nursemaid.

Which begged the question: was it wise to reject a skeleton's plaintive request for a hug, when in no other circumstances he would have asked it, no matter how badly his bones had been shattered?

After a moment Solomon sighed. "If you absolutely must hug me, go ahead. I'm not going to guarantee hugging back."

The large block Solomon indicated would have been easy to move into the wheelbarrow if Skulduggery was still capable of manipulating the air. His magic was getting stronger with each passing minute, and he knew by this time tomorrow he'd be able to move the entire arch by himself. That knowledge wasn't exactly helpful for right now.

He could probably slam the rock against the courtyard wall, but he wouldn't be able to lift it. That took a powerful sort of finesse he hadn't yet regained.

When Solomon spoke for the second time, Skulduggery gave up trying to lift the block, turned, and hugged him. The speed was necessary to stop him from changing his mind, or so he thought. As it turned out, initiating a hug was new enough that Skulduggery didn't immediately pull away.

Skulduggery's speed was such that Solomon hadn't even finished his second sentence before he found himself wrapped in Skulduggery's bony embrace. The speed alone made Solomon stop with surprise, because that had been beyond immediate, beyond joking--there was a desperation to the act, a need so wholly unlike Skulduggery at all that fear made Solomon's chest tighten.

What had happened, back in Skulduggery's timeline?

After a moment Solomon turned without breaking Skulduggery's embrace and returned the hug after all, more gently than he thought he knew he could be. Even though he didn't want to know, he asked quietly: "What happened?"

All his bitterness had drained away, he didn't know where; Skulduggery's plaintive desperation was too fragile for Solomon to risk shoving back for no other reason than pride. Not when he'd railed on Skulduggery already for his arrogance, for his inability to properly realise he had support, and refused it, rather than simply not having it. Not when, after all this time, Skulduggery had come seeking comfort and Solomon had very nearly turned him away anyway.

Raine, Solomon thought ruefully, was right once more it seemed.

Valkyrie had complained before about Skulduggery's hugs holding absolutely no comfort value whatsoever. He was thin, bony, and cold, a far cry from any of the reasons people hugged others at all - and even so, Solomon did. There was nothing Skulduggery could use to explain away that behaviour apart from what had to be the truth.

"You died," he said simply. "A lot of people did. Others should have, and didn't. Others had to make choices no sane person should ever need to consider. Do let me know if this starts getting awkward."

That didn't quite fly--even with the lacking memories and the slowly healing relationship, there was still too much in the intervening time for them to have gotten to a point where Skulduggery would react like this based on Solomon's death alone. Possibly he was a stand-in, though, for everyone else Skulduggery had witnessed dead or pained.

Even still a shiver ran down Solomon's spine, probably pronounced enough for Skulduggery to feel it in his embrace. He died. Did he want to know how, did he want to know why? Did he want to know it was at least a good death, given what sort of man he would have been in a world when he didn't have the memories of Keeliai?

"I hope," he started, and then stopped more quietly. "I hope it wasn't too unworthy a death."

He didn't even respond to the last part. If anything, he'd unconsciously tightened his embrace just a touch.

Skulduggery didn't answer for a long time. When he did, it was with the truth, as well as a note of resigned surprise. Solomon Wreath wasn't a man Skulduggery had ever pegged for performing honourable acts, much less the desire for them to be his last acts. Within the events themselves, Skulduggery had been too busy to give anyone who was killed more than a passing regret; now, with the chance to think, he was subscribing more meaning to the question than was probably appropriate or fair.

"You were saving lives," he said. "Directly after taking me to a place we needed to be in order to save the world. Worthy or not, inwardly motivated or not, you were trying your utmost to do right by Valkyrie. I wouldn't have asked you for anything more."

Well, that was ... somewhat surprising. True, Solomon had fought to keep the world undestroyed on several occasions, partly because the Temple intended to 'save' it themselves and partly because he liked some elements of said world. But saving lives? Specifically, lives? Yes, that was surprising.

"You realise I don't know Cain from Abel and therefore that means very little to me," Solomon said dryly, though he didn't refute the comment. Cain mattered to Skulduggery, probably as a stand-in for his lost daughter. After Solomon had protected that same daughter's killer--the fact that Skulduggery acknowledged Solomon had tried to help his protege meant something, even though Solomon hadn't experienced it himself.

He rested his chin on Skulduggery's bony shoulder and gazed without truly seeing at the wall opposite him. "You're terribly broken," he observed, mostly because Skulduggery hadn't yet pulled away, and wasn't that a miracle. So much so that Solomon was reluctant to do the same before Skulduggery was prepared to do so himself, just in case it made the skeleton withdraw again. That, and Solomon wasn't sure what to do if he did. He added dryly, "It's a good thing you weren't terribly sane when I first met you."

Edited 2014-12-22 11:28 (UTC)

If one put stock in things happening for a reason, then Skulduggery was eminently aware of how being brought to Keeliai was forcing him to admit to things he would never otherwise have admitted to, particularly where Solomon was concerned. He wouldn't, for example, have graced the accusation with so much as a comment before; now he agreed, with a measure of self-awareness manifesting as surprise. "Very." He paused, and then laughed. "I've never been accused of having good judgement."

A tendency to get things done, an unpredictable nature, a fascination with hats and persistence to a fault, but rarely good judgement.

"Actually," said Solomon, "you've been frequently accused of having good judgement. Of course, you then always went on to prove those accusations false, but nevertheless, you've been accused of it." Being accused of and actually having good judgement were, after all, two entirely different things.

He shifted slightly. "Speaking of good judgement, however, you may need to speak to that adopted felon of yours. I didn't witness all of it, but what I saw in the Dreaming was enough that his head has likely turned."

Good judgement in pursuing the boy or not, Solomon knew why Skulduggery had on this occasion. Ordinarily it was the young girls who received Skulduggery's proclivities toward protection, but Khan was far too much like Skulduggery for comfort.

"Then whoever accused me wasn't very bright," Skulduggery pointed out. "I can't say I disagree, if I'm starting to trust you."

He wasn't entirely surprised to hear that Gene might need a little help, given what everyone had experienced in the Dreaming. After a short pause and the first solid decision Skulduggery had made since his return, he let Solomon out of the extraordinarily long hug and gestured at the gate's building blocks still strewn around the courtyard. "I still have some time if you still want the help."

"Had you? I hadn't noticed." Solomon pulled back from the hug with a strange and unfamiliar combination of relief and vague disappointment. What he had to be disappointed about, he didn't know; though the chances of Skulduggery bending enough to do that again were astronomical. Solomon would have to mark the date.

He glanced at the blocks and rubbed his head. "As you like," he said with a shrug, and then smiled innocently over. "If you're as magically impotent as I am I don't know that you'll be too much more help."

"I'm stronger than I look," Skulduggery assured Wreath. The Necromancer had been punched often enough to know the truth of that statement for himself; something they both knew and, if all went well, neither one would bring up.

"Are you trying to rebuild it?" Skulduggery asked in lieu of actually starting anywhere.

"You're evading actually having to help me," Solomon countered with some measure of amusement, bending to pick up one of the stones himself. He dropped it in the wheelbarrow with a sigh. "Unfortunately I don't have anywhere to put it. I designed it to be permanent; I didn't foresee having my apartment appropriated. If I'm going to rebuild it, I'd prefer if I didn't have to dismantle it over again."

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[EVENT] A NEW WORLD ORDER

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Warning: Minor Book 9 Spoilers

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