inbox.

[nightmarist]

Comments

[nightmarist]

I don't give a shit. But it doesn't help me as much as you'd think it would. The more of us there are, the more attention we attract, and they don't stop at one when they can have both.

Besides, the kind of people who've come for me shouldn't have that power in the first place, whether they're using me or any other dreamer. It'd just be stupid to throw you under the bus.

[aberrant_type]

Then rest easy in the knowledge that I'm very happy with the powers I've been granted. I always thought it would be nice to study botany, and it might not be as flashy as your business, but there are a great deal of practical things I can do with my botanokinesis.

[nightmarist]

Plants are some of my favorite things to make.

[But not for practical reasons. Ronan is an artist, more than anything else.]

And you get to do it without the looming threat of death, so you win, probably.

[aberrant_type]

[What's work without fun? Drudgery. What's knowledge without joy? Miserable. Hange can appreciate artistry. Plenty of what she's done with her botanokinesis has been about both beauty and joy.]

Ha! It's so dangerous, then? Going into your dreaming land... making what we're about to make together?

[nightmarist]

I've died a thousand times. But you'll be alright, I think. I'll be there to make sure you don't bring back anything you didn't intend to bring.

[Anyway, neither of them seem to be feeling particularly fearful, and they're not going in to harvest the body parts of children or anything.]

[aberrant_type]

Ha ha. [it's not... really quite a laugh. Life or death battles? Must be Tuesday!]

Well, let's stop beating around the bush. How does this work?

[nightmarist]

I'm just gonna climb into your brain, then you go fall asleep close to wherever you want you playground to be, and then we'll get to work. Are you ready?

[aberrant_type]

I have to fall asleep?

[she's so excited though.]

[nightmarist]

[Not easy, is it?]

I recommend whiskey.

[aberrant_type]

You're going to climb in my brain? While I'm awake? What does that entail?

[nightmarist]

[There's Ronan, watching Hange from his seat, and then there isn't Ronan. The exact moment he slipped away went unperceived. Something else is here, though. Somehow, it's impossible to tell what that something is. It's light, or music, or the sensation of dragging fingertips across dust. And then it's a thought murmured in Hange's own mind:]

This is what it entails.

[aberrant_type]

[HANGE SHRIEKS A LITTLE BIT.

That's gratifying, right???? She so wasn't ready for that.]

[nightmarist]

Relax. I can't hurt you. I can't do anything, actually.

[Ronan's just a dream, after all. She'll understand this now, too. He's a dream she's having, a thought in her head, an intangible thing.]

[aberrant_type]

Ahhh... ahh... ahhhhhh.

[This is so weird. So wild and nuts. He's just GONE?? Where'd the body go? He went to sleep before...!

It's okay! It's all fine! This is all fine and okay. She can work with this. Hange is totally capable of doing this.]

So... so... so... can you hear me?

[nightmarist]

No, but I understand you. You don't have to talk out loud while I'm here, unless it makes you feel better.

[aberrant_type]

[Hange licks her lips. Then she tries speaking mentally.]

CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?

[nightmarist]

I don't have ears right now. And you don't have to strain yourself. Your thoughts are my thoughts, even when they're not words.

[aberrant_type]

And I'm supposed to sleep like this?!!

[Hange is feeling a big jumble of emotions, if he can sense that. She's excited and stunned and deeply, deeply unnerved by this. How far does this go? There's things she never would've chosen to tell or show Ronan if she had her way. Can he discern those?

There's bourbon in the freezer. Hange gets herself together somehow and goes to pull it out. If she's even POSSIBLY going to sleep, it's going to have to be in a dumb, drunk stupor.]

[nightmarist]

[He absolutely can discern them, the unspoken question answered with unspoken certainty. Yes, he's reading her mind, and he knows what she's trying to hide, and he doesn't care about it.]

We don't have to do this. I'll leave whenever you want me to.

[aberrant_type]

No! I want this testing ground!

[That's said aloud, reflexively. She wants to do this job very badly, both because it could possibly help the import population and hopefully many civilians but also because she's just dying, she's so curious, so curious, so curious.

Also she IS MAD ABOUT THIS. Hange keeps her vicious streak on a tight leash both because she doesn't want people to know about it, and because it's not appropriate to let it splash out on people willy-nilly. And how he just jumps the gun and grabs it? Ronan, you fucking little fuck, you have the nerve to be scared of her--]

[nightmarist]

[Such altruistic motivations, though they do nothing to reassure Ronan. People throughout history have done the worst things with the best of intentions. There's nothing in this mind that makes him any less scared of her, and he isn't even digging deep into the dark places.

It's not one-way, though. Ronan's just as open to her, if she wants to look. He's afraid because a man in a gray suit once cornered him in a bedroom and detailed exactly what was to be done with Ronan, a process that involved all his parts disassembled and on display in a glass case. Hitmen, hunters, collectors, desperate men sacrificing children in the woods just to get their greedy wishes granted. Who can trust a human?]

Get drunk and relax, then.

[aberrant_type]

[she's not looking, yet. she has that much regard for him. so far. it's hard to tell what will hold, and what won't.]

You're a serious pain in the ass, kid.

[but, obediently, she is getting a bottle of bourbon from the freezer, and starting to chug. it hits her throat and stomach like a burst of flame. she staggers out to the backyard, which has been transformed into a beautiful garden]

[nightmarist]

And you're ungrateful.

[Ronan at least appreciates the bourbon. They have the same taste in liquor. He likes her garden, too. It shouldn't really make him less suspicious of her intentions, but somehow it does.]

[aberrant_type]

You're ungrateful!

[he is!!!!! she came out to his goddamn fucking farm when he was dissolving. What more does he want? Hange flops down under the roseberry bushes. They're roses, hybridized with raspberries. They fruit is crazy delicious. She chugs more bourbon and stares at the sky. No stars visible with the light pollution.]

[nightmarist]

[He knows what she did. And he is grateful, that she answered the call and went out of her way to help him, that she was in fact willing to respect his wish to die with some dignity - something no one else was prepared to let him do.

That's why he's trusting her with his power. The kind of power only gods should have.]

You should move out to the country.