come_sailaway | then I found a place, it's dark and it's rotted [memeshare

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then I found a place, it's dark and it's rotted [memeshare - open]

Who: Siffleur and you
What: Memory sharing & an opt-in
When: throughout March
Where: various
Warnings: Body horror, medical gore, cannibalism, death, suicide, suicidal idealization, child neglect, possible discussions of past sexual assault in first prompt, unreality

1) The River

On the banks of a newly defrosted river, a young women who looks to be in her mid-twenties kneels by the ice cold waters. The snow has melted, but there's a chill in the air that can't be shaken. Her hair is dirty and matted, and she's wearing a stained dress that's too big for her. Beside her is a freshly birthed baby, half-transformed between human and cougar, screaming in pain.

The woman isn't handling it well. Siffleur is about 10 minutes old and he's also not handling it well either.

2) The Forest

In an old growth forest in the height of summer, a small cougar kitten has left the den where his mother sleeps to play in the grass and chase the large dragonflies that dart around. Siffleur is very young and very curious, and though he usually avoids other people, today he's feeling brave enough to investigate anything new and novel. He's climbing a old fallen log in pursuit of a particularly shiny dragonfly that's resting on the end.

But he loses his grip when he sees someone new in the clearing, falling back and going head over heels, rolling back a few times before landing paws up.

3) The City

In a rundown city just across the Canadian border, a teen boy sits outside a convenience store. His clothing is dirty and stained, and he hasn't washed in at least two weeks. His stomach growls and he watches carefully as people slowly trickle in and out of the store. Siffleur's shaggy hair hangs in his eyes and he doesn't ask for help - he just watches each person as they exit their car.

There's someone here who wasn't there before. His yellow eyes snap to them, quickly looking them up and down.

4) The Small Town

In a place with a population of less than a 1000 people, less than six half-paved streets and one bar, Siffleur sits at the bar with a beer. His cellphone buzzes now and then but he's left it laying face down, not bothering to check it. There's plenty of empty stools around him - less of an invitation and more of a warning.

On the TVs, Ottawa is playing Anaheim, but from the dour mood of those folks watching the screens, it's clear that a Canadian team isn't going to win this Stanley Cup. Occasionally, Siffleur glances back, looking for someone who isn't here yet.

5) Killing Myself In Front Of You To Change The Trajectory Of Your Life Forever (Opt-In, TW: Suicide)

This isn't Siffleur's memory - it's one of yours.

Perhaps it's something personal, something traumatic and private, the kind of thing you would hate to have seen by anyone. Perhaps it's of better times, good days, drinks, laughter, that kind of thing. Maybe it's just another quiet mundane day.

It doesn't matter. The moment he realizes he's in your memory, Siffleur acts instantly and decisively, and kills himself. There's no hesitation. If there's danger he can use to do it, he does - throwing himself against the obvious monsters, picking a fight with something that's ready to rip him to shreds. Or, if not that, then he'll do the job himself with a kitchen knife if available, or anything sharp.

And in the most dire of circumstances where there's nothing for him to use at all? Well... here's your front row seat to a memory of a complete stranger looking around, grabbing his head between his hands and snapping his own neck.

He'll be back on the ship the next day, carefully avoiding the cracks as he attempts to shuffle away from his cabin and over to the buffet to eat breakfast. Feel free to ambush him for an answer then.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I don't like watching people I know get tortured, and I couldn't kill myself because I had a date." It's really obvious to Siffleur, but to be fair to Crichton, he doesn't really know Siffleur well. Siffleur knows his reputation among some folks on the ship and he's fine with it. There is one more important thing though that will probably make things make more sense. "And if I kept watching, I would learn even more information about your past that I shouldn't know."

A pause before he adds- " I did wonder if I had stumbled into a BDSM scene, but you weren't dressed for that the way the others were."

Well. Guess they have some common ground there. (A small voice in the back of his mind asks how eating people alive isn't torture, but he shushes it.)

"Would you believe they dress like that every day? Welcome to space. The Fifth Element has got nothing on these guys when it comes to questionable wardrobe choices. The leather guy, that was Scorpius."

His ears flip back as he thinks about it. Wearing leather every single day? Siffleur can't imagine many more uncomfortable choices - other than latex. "I suppose once your weapons are powerful enough, you don't worry about running - or chafing."

Scorpius - the ringleader. The one who was talking about clones and stuff. Siffleur's tail swishes a few times. "He had an odd smell to him. Not rotten exactly but... something like it. Something off."

There is a natural opening here to ask more - who is Scorpius? What is a neural clone? But he hates that he knows any of this. It doesn't feel appropriate to know. It makes him shift uncomfortably. "I am glad your friends were just outside so they could take you away. I hope the new memory isn't too different from your old one."

"He's got bigger problems to worry about. If he overheats, he dies. That suit keeps his body temperature regulated. He was still pissed at me because I frelled with his cooling rods earlier that day. I was this damn close to frying his brains out." He pinches his finger and thumb together as he says that last.

"Maybe that's what you smelled. But the bastard's a cockroach so of course he didn't die. Besides--hey, wait. I run around in leather all day too, man. I ain't got that problem." Okay, fine, sometimes it gets a little sticky, but it's fine.

"Rorf? He was less a friend more a hired mercenary. But ah... in my original memory, he died. Saving me." He wishes the fake memory could have been the way it really went.

"It is a shame you did not manage to kill him. It seems like something that would make everyone's lives much easier." Siffleur was only around him for a short while, but he seemed like someone who enjoyed making everyone's lives worse but also did not seem like someone who truly had fun with anything. Which was really the worst crime in his book. You should always have fun when you're doing something like that.

As for the leather, his eyes glance down to his leather pants and then up again. "Everyone with a sensitive nose can smell how hot you get in those. But it's not a bad smell on you, Crichton."

Listen, you can get him to have a pleasant conversation, but you're never truly going to get him to stop flirting in a menacing way - especially when it winds Crichton up.

But now he's finding out more information. At least it's by choice this time. He sighs. "I am sorry that he died that way. It seems uncomfortable to have someone die on behalf of you, especially when they are a semi-stranger."

"You don't know the half of it. If I'd killed him then, I would have saved myself years of running and hiding." It's Harvey's damn fault he couldn't do it. He knows that now.

Aaaaaand cue Crichton going red hot in the face. Can you smell that too, Siffleur? He sputters, searching for something, anything to say as a comeback. Unfortunately, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is, "A-Arthur's never complained." Oh God, just kill him. Why is he still like this? It's not like he and Arthur haven't... no. Nope. No thinking about that right now.

He never thought he'd be happy for such a grim subject change. "Uncomfortable isn't a strong enough word. He's not... the first person who's died trying to save me. I don't know how to deal with it. It shouldn't have happened. None of it."

There are so many times when killing someone would have made life better and more tolerable. It's a shame that you only ever know after the time has passed which person really needed to be gutted.

However, Siffleur's more amused by catching Crichton completely off guard. He chuckles to himself, ears swivelled forward. "That makes sense. I would expect a blind man would learn to savour his lover's scents. Were I in his shoes, I'd prefer to keep you a little sweaty all the time."

He glances down one of the aisles, over the racks and racks and racks of floral patterns. "There are many things in life that should not have happened. But unfortunately they do. I have always tried to honor the sacrifices made for me, and to live life to it's fullest. That's what my mother wants from me. I do not know what the mercenary wanted, but I expect he would be glad that his death meant something to you, and still does."

Crichton doesn't quite manage to suppress that full-body shudder. "Guess it's a good thing cougars don't wear shoes." Yeah, he would really like to not think about this anymore, thanks.

But then, that leaves him having to reluctantly identify with Siffleur over what he says next. It's actually profound and... comforting?

"The only thing he asked of us, of me, is that we made sure his mate got her full share of the price we promised to pay. We made good on that. We made sure she and the baby she was carrying would get it. But... I still have to live with knowing that kid won't ever know its father because of me." He's not like Siffleur. He agonizes over every life he takes voluntarily or by association. He wears that debt like iron chains around his neck.

"You know... I saw my own mother in one of those memories. But wasn't really her. It couldn't really be her. But it still hurt to hear what she had to say about me."

"Good." He nods with approval. The man had done his duty to the mother of his child, and to his future child. It's all you can hope for in a terrible situation. "It's not bad to wear the weight of the past, so long as it doesn't kill you. That child will live, and they will miss the father they didn't have, but they will have a mother and a life. It may not be everything, but it is enough for most."

He twitches his ears as Crichton mentions his mother. It sounds like an unhappy meeting. He sighs a little. "Hmm. I take it that she wasn't happy with the paths life took you down. She wasn't much of a mother then. Children will take their own paths, good or bad, but usually between. The role of the mother is to understand that children will become their own people, and that those people will not always be what you wanted."

Then, casually, he mentions- "I met my mother in my memories as well, though it was her. I miss her all the time, though she would hate being a passenger here."

"What?" He realizes too late the impression he must have accidentally given. "No, she was proud of me. I followed in my dad's footsteps and she was proud of that. The real her was. But she died of cancer four years before my launch. She never got to see it." In some way, it might have spared her some pain. She didn't have to watch her baby boy get swallowed up by space, presumed dead.

"She was a good mother. That memory version of her was... twisted. It was someone using her to get to me. Try to break me." It very nearly worked.

"What was she like? Your mom?"

Congrats Crichton, you might be one of the first people to ever see Siffleur look embarrassed. His eyes go big and his ears go up, then lie flat on his head. "My deepest apologies then, I shouldn't have assumed the hurt was slander, not the pain of seeing someone you miss dearly. I am sorry that she was taken from you. A mother is precious, especially one who has been a good Mother."

It does fill him with some disgust to know that someone was using the memory version of her to hurt him. He huffs softly. "What a disgusting way to abuse your mother's memories. Whoever did that deserves the worst kind of death. Your mother's love for you should not be perverted by others."

His mom... Siffleur smiles, as much as a cougar can. "My mother is a complicated woman, but she loves me dearly. She's clever and funny, cruel and quick to act, paranoid and protective and she always knows when to run and when to stand your ground. She's sick, so her mind is sometimes clear and sometimes cloudy, but I have never doubted that everything she does, she does to make my life easier. Before I came here, I hadn't seen her in five years and I worried that she was dead as well... but she isn't, and I am so grateful."

He really doesn't know what to do with that apology. God. God. He's actually relating to this cannibal. It's... touching. Frell him.

"Thank you. It was, well, it was torture, plain and simple. I blew the guys head off with a grenade so... he got his." Sad that he can say that almost casually. God knows Crichton's been tortured enough times now, but some things you really shouldn't become this numb to.

Complicated sounds right. Like mother like son? "I'm glad you have a good relationship with her but, hang on. How did you find out she's not dead if you're here? Did you see it in a memory somehow?"

"Good. I hope it hurt very much." Siffleur is not particularly pressed about the deaths of others, especially those callous enough to use someone's beloved mother to hurt them. If you choose to be that cruel, then you better be certain that you will win, because you will reap exactly what you sow.

Siffleur chuckles a little. Yes, he knows it's confusing. "Yes, she is in my memories. I do not fully understand it, but when I came here, I took a part of her with me. She is living in my mind. Mom says that in the place her and I come from, she's a god now. But I don't think she's like a Christian god, or like Creator. But she says she's happy and safe now, and I got to hug her again, so I'm happy too."

"Took part of her?" Maybe it's hypocritical, coming from a guy with an entire other person in his head too, but that sounds insane.

"Help me understand. Are you saying she talks to you in your head while you're here?"

"That is what she says happened. She used me an an anchor because she's not part of regular time anymore, and that meant some of her came here when I was copied." Again, something he doesn't quite grasp and isn't interested in understanding either. Part of her is with him and that's enough for Siffleur.

He sighs a little though, because he wishes Crichton's version was right. "No, she can't speak to me directly. I didn't realize she came with me until Valdis met her in one of my memory cracks. I've spoken to her when I went into my own memory crack, but that seems to be all I can do. I know she's there, but I can't reach her and she can't reach me. If the cracks ever go away, I don't know if I'll have any way of reaching her again."

It's been tempting to go back into the memory location he knows about, but he also knows that's a stupid choice to make. "But it's okay. I know she's alive and safe here and where we came from, and that's enough for me."

"Valdis seems to be pretty good at meeting alter-egos around here..." She's the one who got Harvey to show himself again too.

"I don't know if I really understand it, but I know I'd give a lot to get one more conversation with my mom so... I'm happy for you." Wow, things he never saw himself saying to Siffleur of all people.

"I'm glad these cracks have been good for something, 'cause all they've brought me so far is trouble."

"Did she meet others?" That might explain why she seemed so upset about Siffleur's mother if there are others, and if they're even more upsetting than his mother can be. She was at her best all things considered, but how could Valdis know that? And his mother is dangerous, and she would kill everyone in a heartbeat without blinking an eye. Siffleur did learn from the best after all.

"Thank you. I know it's unlikely, but I hope someone finds a memory with your mother in it, and helps you find it. It was good to speak to my mother, and I hope you get a chance to speak to yours." Mothers are sacred, and a mother passed is so sad. He would go looking if he were nosey like the others, but Siffleur has already learned too much about Crichton by accident. He doesn't need to see what might be some of Crichton's worst days.

"I am glad to know my mother is well, but I wish the cracks were gone. I worry about what I might see by accident, what I might learn or intrude on. A few people have been upset when I killed myself in front of them, but I think that is still less upsetting than me seeing someone's most personal secrets laid out. And this ship likes to tempt people into learning things they shouldn't." He can only assume something like this has also happened to Crichton. Clearly someone has been in his memories making changes and learning what they shouldn't.

"Ah... well..." He should tell Siffleur, shouldn't he? Siffleur is exactly the kind of person who wouldn't hesitate to put Harvey down if things go wrong. He might need someone like that on standby. Dammit.

"You keep saying you don't wanna learn things about people that you shouldn't but I... I have half a mind to tell you another one of mine. I just don't know how you're going to react to it. I don't have a right to ask you any favors, but this one might be a favor you don't mind doing."

Siffleur's ears slowly descend until they're lying flat. He hates any conversation that opens up with 'I have a favour' when the favour is clearly going to be one that the person hates to ask him.

"It's... not as bad if the person tells me. I just don't need to know most people's personal business." There's a line here, but John's mostly right anyway - he's not excited to learn this stuff. "I'll keep my reaction calm. What favour do you need done?"

He knows cats well enough to know he doesn't love seeing Siffleur's ears go flat to his head. But it's a little too late to turn back now. Harvey, if you're in there listening, you brought this on yourself.

"It will make more sense after I explain." Which begs the question... where to start? Maybe with the head gear Siffleur saw or the reason behind it? No. Need to go back further than that. To the basics.

"I have a second personality in my head. I named him Harvey but he's not a friend. The creepy guy you saw in black leather put a computer chip in my brain. The chip contained a clone of his own personality. Its job is to try and get information out of me. The kind of information locked behind some mental firewalls even I can't get past. When he couldn't torture that information out of me, this was his plan B. That's why I had that thing on my head. He was using it to communicate with the chip. With Harvey."

Huh. Siffleur's ears perk back up as he realizes what this is. Crichton has his own roommate, but his sounds painfully invasive and unwelcome. "Mmm, I understand. If I had known how invasive he was, I would have killed that man on the spot."

He tips his head. "I assume the chip is set too deeply to be pulled out of your brain without killing you?" Because that's the obvious solution - extract the chip, and Harvey, and make sure that Crichton's privacy cannot be violated again.

"That would have been a great memory to hang onto... Asshole is worse than a cockroach." Crichton's tried and failed so many times to put Scorpius in the ground. It would have been glorious to watch his walking nightmare get torn limb from limb. He doesn't even feel bad thinking that.

"Actually, I did have it removed. That's the kicker. I lost an entire chunk of brain matter and it still wasn't enough. Neural bleed the surgeon called it. Harvey's just... stuck in there now. He's got less power over me without his chip, but he ain't gone."

Truly worse than a cockroach. To have the chip taken out, but to have that invasive force stay in his mind is troubling. Siffleur swishes his tail a few times, the thought alone agitating him. "I see... unfortunately, I do not think my mother can leave my mind to enter yours and kill that man, though I am sure she would enjoy doing so if she could. She would tear him to pieces."

Because obviously, this is what Crichton was going to ask - to pit Siffleur's mother against the monster in his own mind.

"That would'a been more than I can hope for." Part of him is still hoping maybe Valdis might have a shot of doing something, but he's not holding his breath for that either.

"But that brings me to the favor I want to ask you. After everything that's happened here, the possessions and all the other ways we get messed with... it has me worried. If Harvey does manage to take me over again, he'll hurt people. He used me like a meat puppet once already and made me kill my own..." What is Aeryn? What was she? Lover? Girlfriend? "He killed the woman I love. And I cannot let him do that again. I'd rather have you rip my throat out then let that happen, you dig?"

Oh! Finally, a favour he'll be happy to do. "I dig. I will kill you without hesitation, Crichton. If Harvey takes over your body, will he know we had this conversation?"

then I found a place, it's dark and it's rotted [memeshare - open]

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