[OPEN] the labour and the wounds are vain

[theotherright]

Who: Arthur Lester and YOU
What: The walk of shame after rafting with two other idiots off the edge of the world
Where: Around the ship
When: The day after the beach party
Warnings: The normal Arthur stuff. Traumatised man hours. Death happened. Sad about blind. Also, the thread with Bash eventually contains a couple references to 1930s homophobia, plus displays of ignorance about queer people.


Mistakes were made. Big ones. For those sensitive to that kind of thing, an invisible death counter has ticked up in Arthur from zero to one.


i. scoops

It's a big ship, but unless you count Tommy Bahamas, it's not infinitely big. Why the hell can't he find Smith or Steve? Particularly Steve-- you know, the teenager he just helped kill?

In truth, Steve is hiding in his cabin and he happens to keep missing 6, but Arthur's brain is pleased to conjure some more unpleasant scenarios, and the effort of talking it down is exhausting. Looking for people while fucking blind only compounds his frustrations, and he's already feeling a few SAN points down after the whole 'fell into the fucking void' fiasco, and he's currently searching on the promenade which is already fucking overwhelming, and so his reaction when he collides with a fucking stool that's sitting outside of Scoops is, as soon as he's regained his balance, to pick it up and toss it as hard as he fucking can across the fucking ground.

"Fuck!"


ii. tauva

...not long after that, Arthur realises that he needs to calm the hell down.

He forces himself to stop pacing and pacing and pacing and pacing. And once he stops, it's like the energy leeches right out of him, both physically and mentally. Part of his mind is still just spiralling down that invisible void, screaming.

The whole raft thing is a part of it, but it's far from the whole. He's so far out of his depth and he doesn't even know which way up is, and he's been holding his breath for as long as he can, focused on the possibility of escape, but now escape has put him right back on the ship and it feels like he tried to take a breath and instead filled his lungs with salt water.

He ends up in Tauva. It's not consciously planned. But he has been thinking about someone else who frequents the place: someone to whom he once again owes an apology.

Arthur's slumped back in one of the leather armchairs, his useless eyes closed. Until now he's perched on the edges of chairs, sat with his feet beneath him, ready to move if he needed to. This time he's just... folded into it. Head tilted down. As still as if he was asleep, or even more so, because even sleeping people murmur or turn over once in a while. The only parts of him stirring are his lips, which move as if silently singing to himself, and his hands, whose long fingers bat restlessly against one another and against the soft arms of the chair.

He is not super okay.

Comments

[theotherright]

It does not sound like 6 is even a single iota less than serious.

Arthur is... suddenly glad he's already sitting down. He's pretty sure the promenade would have spun around him, if he could see it. His fingers tighten on his cane for balance, and the tip of it sways.

His mouth opens and closes a couple of times, but when he does verbally respond he just sounds like he's digesting something mildly surprising. "Oh. All right."

He's pretty sure the entire ship can hear how loud his heart is beating.

"Well, that- that introduces some problems, solves others."

The rocking back-and-forth of his hand would be subtle, were it not for the top of his cane moving exaggeratedly above it. His mouth twitches.

"A copy, eh?"

[be_seeing_you]

The way Arthur sways in his seat makes Number 6 very glad he's told the man to sit. Now, he just hopes there won't be any violent sickness to follow.

"Yes, a copy. It was explained to me thus: the one of us who remains in our world is set upon his tracks, going through life on a pre-determined course. We, however, have been taken from the tracks. We can go anywhere. We aren't destined for anything, anymore. The only thing we can't do is go back to where we came from. That track is occupied."

Now, he just can't help asking, "What problems does this solve for you?"

[theotherright]

"A pre-determined-course," Arthur repeats under his breath, like it's a mocking chant. A brightly unhappy smile starts to creep onto his face.

He's thinking about a book. No, not that book, another one. Lots of fucked-up books in his life, lately, he reflects.

"A man has built a raft on a beach," he says as if reciting, even more under his breath this time, just about audible but clearly not meant for 6's ears. "He intends to use it to escape. Do you join him?"

Oh. Oh haha this is good. Oh, this is a good one.

Smith asks a question. Arthur raises a hand to forestall it, with an ah-d-d-d-d, a casual sound that translates into shut the fuck up. At the same time, a faint scratching sound that he'd been unsure of the source of ends. Of course: it must have been his fingernails on the ice-cream parlour table.

"Who explained it to you? How do they know?"

[be_seeing_you]

Did Arthur just...shush him? The audacity! Between this and the lunatic-like murmuring, Number 6 is beginning to wonder what kind of man he's really dealing with here.

"Her name is Ava Star and she's been here long enough to have collected the evidence for herself. And if you want to know more, then you will have to ask her yourself." Number 6 has no fear for her safety because she could easily take down any man or woman here with her abilities.

"You know what kind of profession I was in. I am not one to be easily swayed, but her word I do trust."

[theotherright]

Well speaking on behalf of the current moment, he's dealing with a man who's only, like, halfway into his own body at best.

"Ava Star. Thank you. And how do I contact her?" Just like that, Arthur is back to sounding like he's holding just the most normal conversation in the world.

A beat. "Star," he says again, a bit more to himself. "I'm sure I've not met her. Why does that name sound familiar?"

[be_seeing_you]

The sudden snap back to normalcy does nothing to improve Number 6's opinion of this man's sanity.

"I'm sure I wouldn't know why a name like that would sound familiar. The word itself is rather mundane, of course. The woman, however, is anything but. If you're going to try and harass her for answers, then I'm not inclined to give you her location." But also this is a closed ship so sooner or later he'll probably run into her. Maybe less so right now because she's been making herself scarce.

[theotherright]

Okay, that's about as long as Arthur can stay seated, when moving around on his feet is so much more conducive to thinking. Up he goes.

"Anything but mundane," he repeats, and that shakes something loose. "Star," he says again, this time with a cold-eyed smile of recognition. Yes, says his mind back to him, yes. "Yes. The friend who helped you with your little elevator problem. I don't intend to harass her, only ask her some questions."

[be_seeing_you]

Number 6 isn't going to step between a potential lunatic with a cane and his pacing. If he falls, he falls. Won't be the first time in so many hours.

"That's right, I did mention her." And now he worries he may have some apologizing to do to her.

"You will have to find her first." She is literally in the cabin across the hall from Number 6 but he's not going to say that. "I suggest you take a little time to get yourself back to sorts before you do."

[theotherright]

Arthur takes that to mean 'stop being upsetti spaghetti' rather than 'stop being literally an insane person'; his response is an unamused noise. "On this ship? Getting back implies I was ever there to begin with."

He turns a look of frustrated accusation in Smith's general direction. "You're -- really going to tell me all of this, and tell me to talk to a woman who knows more, and-- and then refuse to tell me how to contact her? Is this a game?"

[be_seeing_you]

"No. None of this is a game," he says sternly. "Falling into oblivion was no game." Just because he's handling it with an outwardly cool demeanor doesn't mean the agony they all felt going over that cliffside to nothing didn't put deep scars in his own psyche.

"But Miss Starr is in a somewhat emotionally fragile state and I don't want you to go and agitate her. Whatever anger you are feeling, I'd rather bear the brunt of it myself."

[theotherright]

Arthur was all ready to get mad, but that's... actually a pretty good answer. Stonewalling for the sake of fucking with him pisses him off so easily that it's practically cheating, but stonewalling because a friend is in no shape to talk-- fine. Okay. Fine.

Fine.

"Jesus christ," he mutters, "I'm not angry with her. Don't be so dramatic." What do you take him for, someone unreasonable??

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. He goes back to pacing, not moving far in any one direction, his cane's little wheels rattling on the ground.

"All right. All right." He moves a hand over his face, still frustrated, but not feeling nearly as aggressive about it as he was a moment ago. It's hard to resent someone for hiding away with their feelings when you just spent part of the morning having emotional breakdowns. "I'm-- I'm sorry to hear that. I hope she recovers soon."

And when she does, he will get her phone number. Unless he's in a depressive episode and doesn't.

[be_seeing_you]

Don't be so dramatic? It's really a shame Arthur can't see the way Number 6's meaty eyebrow hooks up at that. But there's plenty of incredulity to hear in the way he scoffs under his breath.

"She's more resilient than she realizes. In time, I think she will recover." As long as someone doesn't ruin it.

"Now, as for you? I realize I've given you an undeserved shock. Can I smooth it over with a drink? Do you smoke?"

[theotherright]

"I don't," says Arthur. "And I don't think I'll be stopping for a drink."

His manners have failed him a bit.

"I need to- to find Steve. Say I'm sorry. Make sure he's all right. Do you know his cabin number? Or do I need your permission to speak to him as well?" He doesn't mean to say that last part, but it slips out anyway.

[be_seeing_you]

He does bristle at that final jab, and Arthur is sure to hear his sharp and angry intake of breath. But, after a moment, he blows it back out and lets it rest. He'll be the bigger man.

"Cabin 133." There is still some tartness to his tone, though it's brisk and businesslike. "Of course you're entitled to speak with him. Find me later in Cabin 113 if you like."

With that, he will turn to take his leave, with one parting shot, "The offer for that drink stands, should you ever wish to revisit it."