station72 | [DAY :043]

[Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Late in the evening, the pervasive thrum of Nirad's mental presence returns to Bearings. It winds higher - unwrapping, lengthening, widening: small flashes of silver, memories like the scales of so many fish glimpsed through the lapping water of some distance, unfamiliar water. A wet street reflects the glow of neon signs above it; a doorway, rain drizzling off the landing above it; a stream of traffic glittering through the half light--]

( Hi. We're back from following that Ahtaliah Ven guy. Aoba's head is hurting him so he's going to take a break I think but I guess I can tell you what we saw? )

[He doesn't sound hesitant so much as he does distracted.]

( Honestly I didn't see anything very interesting, but maybe it was a bad day for him? Maybe you can't be a bad guy every day of the week, right? Anyway, he worked pretty late then me and Aoba followed his car to a place where he got dinner. It's a nice car. He met with someone there. A lady. A friend, I think, but I don't really know. Maybe we should have followed her instead though because after they had dinner, Ven went home. So we have his address and how to get access to his building and I know which apartment he lives in and if we wanted to get in it seems like it might be pretty easy because he spends so much time at work, you know? I'm sure he's got some super high tech security at home but it's not like he owns the building so it's probably just inside his penthouse or whatever. Uh. Yeah. )

[BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ.]

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[ From where he lies, swaddled in Nirad's bed, Aoba reaches out to take his hand. He can feel the anxiety rising in him as much as Steve can, only he is physically present as well as mentally. There's been a shift in his mentality though, one that doesn't seem as bothered by the pain still beating against the insides of his skull. He sits up, still holding onto Nirad's slender wrist like a hook, and he's caught reeling himself closer. ]

I can give you clarity, if you let me in.

[ He's suddenly feeling much more confident about his powers, and... much more liberal too. He's makes sure he remains connected, where Steve can hear him. He remembers this host - he doesn't like Scrap. There's a sick curiosity of what would happen if he used it while another host stuck around to watch over the network. ]

I can destroy all that worries you. Then you can look upon your memories with a clear mind.

[ He doesn't want to destroy more than that - not for Nirad. It would be fun to, and tempting, but... he's never felt more free. If this keeps up, there will be others to destroy. ]

[ What the hell - the voice sends a chill down his spine, teeth clenching down against a sudden shift in the weather. ]

( No. That's not a good idea. )

[ His presence grows - not louder, but almost taller, thoughts planted firmly and directed at the both of them. ]

[A small boat dragged up onto some distant shore, grounded in the shallows and swaying absently as the water licks at its sides. It's a day trip and they've pulled the boat up there to be ready for when they're set to run it back out again and return home. Only now the weather is turning, the water is running higher and the small boat threatens to be plucked off its rocks and sucked back out into the sea - its would be occupants stranded wherever they stand now--

His attention falters, that mental buzz lurching. Tugged. Somewhere in Bearings Nirad's attention flickers to Aoba; he accepts the hand hold naturally enough, grip sure even as Steve's mind expands and dredges his focus back.]

( Why not? It might be helpful. )

[Oh, but maybe it'd hurt Aoba. The thought occurs to him even as he's open to invasion, like standing in an open door with a hand still on the latch.]

It will be.

[ Steve's rejection echoes in his ears, but an echo is all it is to him. It may be firmly rooted in his mind, but it finds no footing in Aoba's. Mentally he's about ready to close Steve out. He presses down on the connection as much as he can, but that large presence makes it difficult to cut him off.

Nirad is right to worry - he's in no condition to be using Scrap again so soon. However much he enjoys pain and spreading it, there's only so much a mind can take. But the idea is planted, and he'll settle for that much. From the darkness of the bedroom Aoba slides his hands up the length of Nirad's arms. Delicately, his fingers trace the outline of his shoulders and neck before coming to rest at the edges of his jaw. Aoba can better hold him in his gaze, like this.

His yellow gaze.

A light drawing a lost ship to shore. ]

I want is to help.

Destroy.

And help.

[ Teeth bite into the inside of his cheek. His knuckle bones begin to ache the way they used to when the air would begin to press wet and heavy against his lungs, the clouds rolling in. It's only a memory. His bones don't ache that way anymore.

He widens both links, the thread connecting him to Aoba and the one that buzzes from Nirad to himself. Urges them both to remain open, his expanding sense of self built from the memory of concrete and steel towers, not bone and flesh. ]

( Don't. Stop before you both get hurt. ) [ By Aoba's sudden, strange desire to meddle where he shouldn't, when only a moment ago he'd been hurting and pressed with guilt.

Steve would ask why, the word balanced on the tip of his metal tongue, but questions open doors and his mind is set on only pushing one way. ]

[That small boat wavers on its embankment, dark water stroking at it in time to the slide of Aoba's fingers against his skin and jaw. A moment's hesitation--

But there's something pleasant about the open channel running pushed so wide between them all. It's good to be acknowledged like this, to have Steve and Aoba both reaching out for him. It smells like fresh air, like breathing deep where the feeling coursing under Aoba's connection speaks of water, of darkness, of something deep and secret...

Don't get him wrong: he likes swimming. But in the moment, this is nicer.]

( Okay. No problem. Maybe later when Aoba's head doesn't hurt. )

[In a room somewhere, Nirad takes Aoba's wandering hand and pats it before drawing it away from his jaw. He's strong when he wants to be: grip sure and steady, as gentle as he can make it.]

[ For a moment, he grows angry. A spark from a beach bonfire flies off and extinguishes in the nighttime sea. It feels like rejection, as Nirad grips his hands and pushes them back down. He has to stop and process what he says to realize--

Later. Later isn't a total rejection. Later is fine, when it's just them.

He glares at first, yellow eyes pouting up at dark ones. But then they relax again and the thin line of his mouth breaks into a grin. ]

Yes. Don't make me wait long...

[ For one who usually keeps himself mentally contained, Steve is surprisingly good at keeping his and their connections pried open when he wants to. But Sly Blue is done with him, and were he strong enough, he'd sever their connection sharp and abrupt to make a point. Though right now he's at Steve's mercy, and apparently his migraine isn't bad enough to keep him out...

Perhaps something else will make him look away. Though his hands are held captive in Niard's, he pushes down on them. Leans forward, slowly, and presses his lips to Nirad's.

And if Nirad doesn't mind it, he has no intention of stopping there. ]

[B Y E STEVE.]

[ LATER'S NOT WHAT HE MEANT ??

Where that migraine wasn't enough to get him to back off, there's a definite flash of deep discomfort at... whatever... is going on over there and general confusion over Aoba's bizarre shift in behavior.

Now seems like an okay time to back off though, so his grip releases.

He'll uh check on you guys later... ]

[DAY :043]

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