John Crichton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ss_buttcrack) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2023-04-03 12:07 pm
ss_buttcrack) wrote in come_sailaway2023-04-03 12:07 pm
April Open - Harvey Comes Out To Play
Who: Crichton + Harvey & Open!
What: After getting a package from Sundries, Crichton is acting a little strange. He's out late at night, acting off character for 'some reason' :]
When: First week of April before the event start.
Where: Various places around the ship
Warnings: Descriptions of gore & brain implants. Harvey is involuntarily taking over Crichton's body, he's also not against getting violent if necessary. Will warn in the headers for anything specific below.
They think I'm crazy but they don't know the feeling:
For some reason, after picking up these packages from the Sundries, he felt compelled to wait until he was alone to open them. He's found a secluded corner in the back of the library to do so now. Boy, is he glad that he is alone when opening the first box reveals a pallid mask identical in every way to the one John Doe on the ship routinely wears.
"Great, what are we forming some kind of fan club together?" he scoffs, setting it aside. Later, he might discover this mask has some special properties. If someone tries the thing on, they'll have quite a startling revelation--that Crichton isn't as alone as he seems.
The next box contains something even worse. Crichton gasps when he opens it. The chip. The neural chip (link is kinda gross, fyi) that Scorpius implanted in his brain. The chip that contained Harvey. How can it be here?!
His stomach roils and he has to close his eyes so he won't continue to stare sickly down at that tangle of wires and chunk of his own brain sitting there in that vial. But, once he's breathed through the first wave of nausea, and opens his eyes again, he's horrified to find the vial empty. What?! What?!
He grabs the empty vial from the box, shakes it like he's hoping the chip is just invisible somehow, hoping he will hear it rattle inside the tube. Nothing. It's gone. It's... gone?
Cold sweat soaks into his shirt as, from somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears horribly familiar laughter. Cold, wicked laughter.
I cannot stop this sickness taking over me
The timing of this could not be better. What luck! Arthur and Crichton are back to sleeping in separate beds--which means Arthur won't be as likely to notice if Crichton leaves his in the middle of the night. He started slow. Getting up and walking around the room, simply reacquainting himself with how a human body moves. This human's strength is so limited; it's frustrating. But, from here, he escalates to rifling through their things. Any time Arthur seems to stir, he mimics Crichton's voice, telling his roommate not to worry. Insomnia isn't really unusual for either of them, is it? No, of course not.
Now is the true test. He pulls on Crichton's clothes and slips out of the shared cabin. It's after midnight. He's purposefully avoiding running into anyone he--or, should he says Crichton?-- knows. His first destination is in the Library. He's snooping through the shelves, but there's nothing besides fiction on offer. It won't help him further his agenda. He does, however, know a few people who might be able to. That's going to be trickier.
He doesn't come home to the cabin that night. Instead, he goes to the buffet first thing. He has to quell these hunger pains if he wants to be able to concentrate. Humans... such pathetic creatures. He's doing his best to impersonate Crichton's nauseating friendliness. He has to wave and smile at anyone familiar while dreading if any of them come over for a longer chat. And so it will go for the next few days. He vaguely keeps up with Crichton's loose schedule, saying hello to anyone who comes by. But, at ever opportunity, he will attempt to cut the conversation short.
Except for conversations with one individual in particular...
[Closed to Ari]
He sends Lieutenant Tayrey a text with Crichton's phone:
I've been giving it some thought. I think wormholes might be the only way to escape. All of these memory cracks gave me an idea. Where can I meet you? It needs to be somewhere secure. Bring your textbooks.
I need your help, I can't fight this forever
Something's wrong. Every day, Crichton wakes up feeling more tired than when he went to bed. How long has it been? A week? Maybe? He feels so groggy, the days are running together. He's losing time. He has been ever since--
What? What was he thinking just now? Damn, he lost it. Frell. He's so tired. Maybe he should just go back to sleep for a little longer. No. No, he'd better not.
And yet, as the days wear on, he looks more and more like a zombie. There's no pep in his step, the dark circles under his eyes getting worse and worse, and he's doubled his caffeine intake. That alone should be worrying him. But, every time he thinks maybe he should call a doctor about it... he just doesn't. He'd hate to worry them over nothing. It's just stress. That's all. It will pass. He'll go back and take another nap. That will help. He'll be fine.
Everything is fine.
What: After getting a package from Sundries, Crichton is acting a little strange. He's out late at night, acting off character for 'some reason' :]
When: First week of April before the event start.
Where: Various places around the ship
Warnings: Descriptions of gore & brain implants. Harvey is involuntarily taking over Crichton's body, he's also not against getting violent if necessary. Will warn in the headers for anything specific below.
They think I'm crazy but they don't know the feeling:
For some reason, after picking up these packages from the Sundries, he felt compelled to wait until he was alone to open them. He's found a secluded corner in the back of the library to do so now. Boy, is he glad that he is alone when opening the first box reveals a pallid mask identical in every way to the one John Doe on the ship routinely wears.
"Great, what are we forming some kind of fan club together?" he scoffs, setting it aside. Later, he might discover this mask has some special properties. If someone tries the thing on, they'll have quite a startling revelation--that Crichton isn't as alone as he seems.
The next box contains something even worse. Crichton gasps when he opens it. The chip. The neural chip (link is kinda gross, fyi) that Scorpius implanted in his brain. The chip that contained Harvey. How can it be here?!
His stomach roils and he has to close his eyes so he won't continue to stare sickly down at that tangle of wires and chunk of his own brain sitting there in that vial. But, once he's breathed through the first wave of nausea, and opens his eyes again, he's horrified to find the vial empty. What?! What?!
He grabs the empty vial from the box, shakes it like he's hoping the chip is just invisible somehow, hoping he will hear it rattle inside the tube. Nothing. It's gone. It's... gone?
Cold sweat soaks into his shirt as, from somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears horribly familiar laughter. Cold, wicked laughter.
I cannot stop this sickness taking over me
The timing of this could not be better. What luck! Arthur and Crichton are back to sleeping in separate beds--which means Arthur won't be as likely to notice if Crichton leaves his in the middle of the night. He started slow. Getting up and walking around the room, simply reacquainting himself with how a human body moves. This human's strength is so limited; it's frustrating. But, from here, he escalates to rifling through their things. Any time Arthur seems to stir, he mimics Crichton's voice, telling his roommate not to worry. Insomnia isn't really unusual for either of them, is it? No, of course not.
Now is the true test. He pulls on Crichton's clothes and slips out of the shared cabin. It's after midnight. He's purposefully avoiding running into anyone he--or, should he says Crichton?-- knows. His first destination is in the Library. He's snooping through the shelves, but there's nothing besides fiction on offer. It won't help him further his agenda. He does, however, know a few people who might be able to. That's going to be trickier.
He doesn't come home to the cabin that night. Instead, he goes to the buffet first thing. He has to quell these hunger pains if he wants to be able to concentrate. Humans... such pathetic creatures. He's doing his best to impersonate Crichton's nauseating friendliness. He has to wave and smile at anyone familiar while dreading if any of them come over for a longer chat. And so it will go for the next few days. He vaguely keeps up with Crichton's loose schedule, saying hello to anyone who comes by. But, at ever opportunity, he will attempt to cut the conversation short.
Except for conversations with one individual in particular...
[Closed to Ari]
He sends Lieutenant Tayrey a text with Crichton's phone:
I've been giving it some thought. I think wormholes might be the only way to escape. All of these memory cracks gave me an idea. Where can I meet you? It needs to be somewhere secure. Bring your textbooks.
I need your help, I can't fight this forever
Something's wrong. Every day, Crichton wakes up feeling more tired than when he went to bed. How long has it been? A week? Maybe? He feels so groggy, the days are running together. He's losing time. He has been ever since--
What? What was he thinking just now? Damn, he lost it. Frell. He's so tired. Maybe he should just go back to sleep for a little longer. No. No, he'd better not.
And yet, as the days wear on, he looks more and more like a zombie. There's no pep in his step, the dark circles under his eyes getting worse and worse, and he's doubled his caffeine intake. That alone should be worrying him. But, every time he thinks maybe he should call a doctor about it... he just doesn't. He'd hate to worry them over nothing. It's just stress. That's all. It will pass. He'll go back and take another nap. That will help. He'll be fine.
Everything is fine.
might be a good place to start to wrap
"I think we already make a good team. And, don't you worry, I'll tell you. I've got no problem letting you know."
sure!
'Meet you back here tomorrow, and we can get started then?'
thanks!
"Sounds like a plan to me. I'll be looking forward to it." Too bad things are about to go south for him, but he can hope for the future.