IC Inbox

[corkscrewed]

voice || video || text

Comments

[corkscrewed]

[ ... okay, THAT'S a little weird. ]

Jon?

[epistemological]

Yes, Martin?

[corkscrewed]

What's bothering you? I saw you typing.

Was it a bad statement?

[epistemological]

[ He actually has to bite his own hand not to let out the most awful sort of barking laugh.

More ( . . .)'s, this time for almost a full minute. Finally.]

Yes.

Not here.

I'll explain just not like this.

[corkscrewed]

Oh.


Well, I'll be home.

[epistemological]

I'll be home soon.

Don't-

[ No, THAT is bullshit.]

I'm all right.

[corkscrewed]

[ well, now he's fucking terrified. ]

I'll put the kettle on.

[epistemological]

I love you.

I'll head there now.

[corkscrewed]

I love you, Jonathan Sims.

[epistemological]

[ The only bright spot he has is the fact that he knows, at least, that Martin won't change his mind after he knows what happened.

He knocks on the door, even though it's his own flat. He just wants to give Martin a chance to prepare once he's there. ]

[corkscrewed]

[ martin opens the door, sort of assuming that it's going to be a guest, but- ]

Jon?

[ he reaches out, moving to guide him in. ]

[epistemological]

[ Martin knows what it looks like when Jon wants to curl up in his arms. There's a particular lean to him, a way that he seems to try and catch the residual body warmth left behind.

But usually, once they're in their flat, he'd just do it. Now, he holds back. Swallows. Makes sure the door is closed.]

The statement was from Eli-Jonah.

And it was... a trap.

[ Much like the last two and a half years of his life.]

[corkscrewed]

Fuck.

[ whispered, immediate. he's reaching out to take jon's wrists, pulling him closer. ]

What did he want? What did he do?

[epistemological]

[ He doesn't pull away. He lets Martin take them, swaying a little as his eyes close tight.]

What do any of them want, Martin?

Only he... figured out how to do it.

Through me.

[corkscrewed]

[ his pulse is ramping up quite suddenly. ]

He- he tried a ritual?

[ a huge question, because he's still not sure what jon is getting at. ]

[epistemological]

[ He nods. And then, to be honest- ]

Not tried.

Succeeded.

[corkscrewed]

[ and he goes ashen. ]

You're- not making any sense.

[epistemological]

No...

[ He looks over at Martin. ]

I am.

[ He closes his eyes and looks down.]

You brought a package from Basira: statements for me. Some of them were written, some tapes. I settled down to read one and you went to look for some 'good cows'.

[ He glances up.]

Still with me?

[corkscrewed]

[ he is still clinging tightly to jon's wrists. ]

Yeah. And-- something happened after that.

[epistemological]

Yes.

I picked up the first statement.

And once I got started... it ended up being a letter. A statement. From... Elias.

Jonah.

[corkscrewed]

And- that was a ritual. Somehow.

[ his eyes are locked onto jon's, nearly unblinking. ]

[epistemological]

The... capstone. The end of it.

[ He holds up his hands, shows off the worm holes. The burn. Lifts his chin to show the scar from Daisy.]

These were... the rest of it. A mark... from each one of the powers, connecting me to them. Providing them a path.

[corkscrewed]

[ martin's hands fall uselessly to his side. every muscle in his body is tense. ]

What do any of those have to do with the Watcher's Crown?

[epistemological]

A servant of the Eye, connected to each one of the other powers. An Archivist. Or rather... an Archive.

[ He looks to Martin. ]

He put the words in the statement. I couldn't stop reading them aloud. I- I called to them. I called all of them.

[corkscrewed]

[ why did he have to go back. why. ]

What happened, Jon? You called them and what happened?