mental link: day 34

[erbier]

[ It is actually quite late when Ilde's soft voice moves through the hosts, her scent of smoke and earth. She is at a club somewhere deep in the city, dazzled by noise and light, something you are free to establish if you look for it. ]

( It has been suggested to me by a hacker named Y that I throw a concert to lure our bombers out again. )

[ This part is forthright, a statement of fact with no value attachment to it. ]

( I believe she is questioning who I really am. If I refuse this idea, I may encourage that. )

[ This may not be strictly true, but it is how Ilde has perceived their conversation. ]

( She seems to know something, but is it worth losing my guise? If not, how am I to refuse this suggestion and maintain it. I do not know if she is a part of the group who contacted us before. She may already know I am false and this is all a game. )


OOC: link & all threadjacking here very much encouraged!

Comments

[nirsighted]

( It's probably fine. But sure we could. He seems good at that kind of thing. )

[Probably.]

[erbier]

( I do not know enough myself. You could tell me more about it? )

[nirsighted]

( Oh. )

[He hums, a murmuring note of something like surprise. A tug of uncertainty like some wind changing direction and checking across the face suddenly.]

( Sure I could tell you about the basics. It might be easier if I just showed you though. Less complicated that way? )

[erbier]

( Yes, then we will decide what to do next. )

[ And by we she means she will, don't worry buddy. ]

[nirsighted]

[Good. He isn't very good at decision making but this? Telling stories - sharing things. That's okay. He's pretty good at that.]

( All right. I'll come find you. It's easier to do in person. )

[He can do that pretty well too: follow the thread of her mind with a little concentration. It makes for a strange sensation - a slow building of Nirad's mental hum at the back of her mind as he focuses his attention on her, plodding along at a steady pace as he worms his way through the world here to meet her.]

[erbier]

[ She is still covered in sweat and glitter when he finds her, alone on the rooftop to be with the plants, it's where one should always expect her to be. The sun is just starting to rise, she watches its alien glittering through the cracks of the alien city beyond. Silent a long moment before she turns her head, and then remains so, ]

( Hello, Nirad. )

[nirsighted]

[It smells clear up here - as clear as Condordia's able to anyway: something sweet and green punctuating the salt tang of synthetic machinery. They're alien smells, but they aren't bad ones and he can appreciate that, as pretty in its own way as the sliver of sun beginning to eke its way through the city's close knit skyline.

He wanders toward the small shape of her in the half light, loitering unbothered at her side until she thinks in his direction.]

Hi.

[He sits down on the edge of the planter, no ceremony.]

Are you okay?

[erbier]

[ She says nothing at all for a long moment. ]

Yes. Merely tired.

[ Her exhaustion is about as remarkable as taking note of the weather. She is always tired, bone deep. So she simply shrugs, sweeping her hair off of her neck to let the breeze catch on her skin. ]

I am happy to see you.

[ What else would she say when he has offered to be so helpful. ]

[nirsighted]

[There, a small lick of pleasure in the string-thin bond wound between their minds. Oh. That's nice of her to say. He rubs his arms absently, momentarily faltering over a response - and then Nirad simply shrugs and settles where he sits like he's acclimated to his own skin.]

I'm glad you came back okay. We need to be careful. I think we're getting close to some dangerous people, you know?

[Sometimes it woke him up in the middle of the night: that gnawing, bone deep anxiety. The closer they got to finishing their mission here, the more dangerous anything they had to do was going to be. He doesn't like the idea of her getting hurt. --Of anyone getting hurt, really.]

[erbier]

[ Of course the pleasure is there, she knows about him. The awareness is a mixture of sharpness and sweetness, a ribbon of satin that can be soft to the touch or tight at the throat. Both are useful, and so at least her attention is not feigned. She knows exactly how she became this way and cannot entirely regret it, she knows the value of death and adulation. They make a hypnotic perfume... ]

That is our goal, yes. [ She agrees, there is no rebuke in her tone, merely an airy reminder. ] I am doing my best to tread carefully. That is why I reached out tonight.

[ It isn't in her usual habit to look to anyone, there had never been anyone to look to, but now there is the Hive, the Nest, the Brood. All whispering, all with skills and advice... She cannot rely on them too heavily, there is a need to self-actualization, but there is also plenty enough to be learned when she is ignorant. ]

[nirsighted]

[He's nodding in agreement, a faint bobbing of the head as his fingers turn in his lap: picking absently at his cuticles, scraping the edge of his thumbnail along the lines of his knuckles. It's an unconscious, uneasy compulsion like scuffing a callus over softer skin.]

That makes sense. [After a second, he turns his hand over - across his knee and to her, palm upturned and fingers soft.] I can show you what I know. It isn't a lot, but it's something.

[erbier]

[ She lays her hand in his without hesitation. She enjoys these moments with others. Mind working together, to learn. To some the intimacy was overwhelming, but Ilde was comfortable in her disassociation in that regard. She had an icy center that she did not much worry about being touched against her will. It lets her spend more time exploring the depths of this connection, this telepathy. ]

Thank you, for sharing.

[ Not said merely to appease him, she loves to learn. Hungers to understand better than she does. ]

[nirsighted]

Sure. [For such a twitchy person, his hand is steady under hers: skin rough with calluses, finger tips and knuckles and the meat of his palm mottled by incidental dark scars.] Happy to.

[There's the sensation that he means it. It expands - balloons. Becomes a sphere and grows to surround them until they are two people in a diving bell and Concordia is the ocean, neon deep sea life glittering in the dark. It's safe here. Quiet. They can observe all the massive shapes moving through the darkness of the city without worrying about whether one will come around to eat them where they float.

Nirad's ever-present mental buzz has elongated, stretching out of a disjointed hum and into individual pieces: seeing a glint of color and then swimming closer to realize it's a series of scales reflecting light. On one of them: Nirad, or a boy who looks exactly like him. Another: a small boat in a dark sea. Another: Aoba, breathing short and sharp. Another: a thousand pieces of hardware, taken apart then put together again like tying a knot (he knows so many knots - do you want to know those too?; a flash of Angel's pale hands superimposed across his own; he ties a knot and--)

Right. Computers. Focus.]