Jack (
biotic_psychotic) wrote in
fandomhigh2019-01-17 06:57 am
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Office #2 at the school, Thursday mid-morning.
[CW/TW: Jono's thread goes some dark places. Torture/etc.]
Jack had decided on office hours so once she hit the coffee shop for the largest to-go cup they had she went and camped out in her spartan school office. After about twenty minutes she became bored and out of coffee. Examining the lock on her door, she pulled a multi-tool from her pocket and began disassembling it. Once it was off the door she took pictures of the whole rig and reassembled it. It was tossed carelessly into the bottom desk drawer.
The door was propped open with the wastecan. From another pocket came a tennis ball. Leaning back in her desk chair, she began doing a slow bounce with it from floor to wall and back to her hand.
The teacher is in.
[Open office hours!]
Jack had decided on office hours so once she hit the coffee shop for the largest to-go cup they had she went and camped out in her spartan school office. After about twenty minutes she became bored and out of coffee. Examining the lock on her door, she pulled a multi-tool from her pocket and began disassembling it. Once it was off the door she took pictures of the whole rig and reassembled it. It was tossed carelessly into the bottom desk drawer.
The door was propped open with the wastecan. From another pocket came a tennis ball. Leaning back in her desk chair, she began doing a slow bounce with it from floor to wall and back to her hand.
The teacher is in.
[Open office hours!]
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A hand waved lazily at all the empty nothing, "I put shit in here I only have to pack it all back out again at the end of the term so what's the point? Ah, fuck it. How's your travel class going?"
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He shrugged. It was Fandom. These things happened.
//Class seems to be going well, at least. I leave Hannibal to book the portals, we end up in some take on Earth that doesn't seem to notice that half of us are on fire or blue or whatever the hell else. From there it's just a matter of playing tourist for an hour or so.//
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The tennis ball rolled back and forth between her hands on the desk. "Sounds like a fun class," she offered, "Gotta be a nice break from some of the other heavy shit."
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It wasn't exactly an uncommon name.
//And...// He paused a moment. //Yeah. Can't complain about an hour of peace here and there. Home's got more than its fair share of heavy and life around the island doesn't generally lean much lighter.//
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Until Balak and whoever his puppetmasters were had found themselves a nice damp grave to rot in.
"Island seems pretty damn quiet right now," she offered. Leaned back in her desk chair and kicked her feet up on it. "So what do you do for fun around here when it's this boring?"
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//Fosse,// Jono repeated. //Janitor, maintenance, actual, literal Troll, I think.// And a shrug. //And me? All my favourite vices aren't exactly an option these days, but I keep busy. Write music, play music. Run. Train. Run more...//
He shrugged.
//I split enough time between here and New York, boredom isn't usually a concern.//
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Pulled a face at him. "You guys and your damn running. That ain't a hobby. That's some sort of masochism bein' expressed or some shit. My vices run out I just go down the list and find new ones. About the only one I haven't tried yet is smoking but that's because I don't need any more cancer risk than I already got."
Jack paused and then squinted at his flames. "Can you make smoke with those or is it just color and heat?" She didn't mean cigarettes, no.
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//... You know, never asked the moose if he has a name.// Jono sounded faintly sheepish. //Ought to do that at some point.//
There was another pause, and then he added, //And I can make smoke, but smoke requires something to burn. The flames aren't actual physical fire, technically, but they've eaten away at me before.//
There had been a time, once, when he'd been certain they would gradually just burn the whole of him away.
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"No good if it hurts you," Jack mused, "but they make little packets of stuff for fires that makes sparks and colored flames and colored smoke and stuff."
A beat.
"Not that you need to be festive and sparkly. It was just a random thought."
Jack had a lot of those.
"Asshole pointed out I stuck my hands in, y'know, you, so sorry if I gave you a headache or whatever."
She wouldn't want to be a telepath anywhere near her.
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Jono hiked a shoulder up a little.
//Wasn't anything I've never felt before,// he replied. //And I said you could.//
There had been a lot going on there.
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Jack sucked her teeth and clicked. "I can see why you like the quiet." A small pause. "Asshole also you reminded him of me if I was tired of all the shit."
She had no idea where she was going with that. It was going somewhere. Jack just wasn't real clear on where. It had caught her attention when Kaidan had said it. The way he said it.
"Which he probably meant as a compliment and not because I'm a bitch on wheels."
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Well. That earned a thoughtful headtilt.
//Did he say how?// Because really, that was an interesting assessment. Not wrong, necessarily. But interesting.
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Sure was gonna now though.
"Got a lot of shit," she admitted, "None of it I'd say I'm tired of yet. Think I'm still in shark mode."
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//Shark mode,// Jono echoed, looking thoughtful. //I used to have my fair share of sharks. Mostly they'd just chew at the insides of my head.//
They liked it in there.
There was a lot of meat to gnaw on, most of it well-cooked by now.
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Well they were. Still, she preferred them to the whispers. The weasels hurt but at least they were quiet.
Usually.
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Jono fell silent for a few moments.
//Nothing worse than stagnation, is there? Feels like you'll die or crawl out of your own skull if you don't just act?//
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That earned a nod.
Yeah. Jono knew those bugs all too well.
//Too much ugly lives in the shadows, and it's better to let it out on your own terms than let it claw its own way out,// he noted. //At least when its on your own terms, odds are better it'll be you in control when you come back out the other end.//
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//Well, then I'm glad you've got the means to keep it there.//
Jono had been stripped of too much of his own mind to always have that choice.
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A brief pause. "Anger's a helluva motivator and I am almost always angry."
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//Anger's a helluva motivator,// Jono agreed, his own words gone hollow. There was a sort of distant quality to his voice, then, as his focus drifted away from forming words. //I cut mine clean out of my head, not long ago. The anger. The shadows are still there, but the anger is nothing, is a fragment in a cage, enough left burning to remind me of what they made me do.//
Tired. When you took away the anger, what was left was... tired. Which was almost ironic in its own way. The anger had been plenty exhausting all on its own.
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And.. it mattered. Being able to care about her family. Being able to recognize they cared about her. It mattered and she didn't want it to stop mattering.
It would if there was nothing left.
She looked at him and said even more quietly, "That's what he meant, huh? By tired?" She could see it. She would have called it fatigue. Tired was when you slept. Fatigue was when you sat there and stared at the wall because there was no energy to even lie down and try to sleep.
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They'd tortured her to make her what they wanted her to be.
For that, he could still be angry.
There was still enough of him in his own head for that. Good to know.
//If it's what you have, you hold on,// he said, finally. //Empty's not a good place to be, either.//
Empty was almost as bad as too full to cope. He wasn't proud of who he'd been, when that had happened.
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She looked at him. "That's what they wanted me to be. An empty little murder machine they could point at what they wanted dead. The pilot project for what they wanted to do to everyone like me. Subject Zero."
Took a breath and said calmly, "My name is Jack. I'll be angry because right now that's mostly all I got. Someday, maybe, I'll be more but fuck if I'll ever be what they tried to make me."
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