[ Jon won't look away either. There's something here, something to this, and he finds the words flowing out of him like water.
This is the only time, the only place, he could ever give this statement.
And to the only person. ]
Most people who come here come have their world, their view... expanded. Multiple worlds, multiple universes, powers, magic, superheroes, cosmic space adventures... and it's not wrong to say that was true of me as well. I've certainly seen and heard of enough things to make Horatio's head pop clean off if he tried to dream of it, quite frankly, and experienced even more in my time on this ship.
That all happened while I was still... me. Entirely me. Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, of course, still- still that, but not- Not quite the Archivist. I ended up pulled back, forced to live through the Unknowing, through Tim's death and Daisy's disappearance, and when I came back I was- I was different.
Everything was different.
You see, when I first arrived, I knew that there were dozens upon dozens of stories to be heard, to be told, to be observed. That the overlap of worlds and the people from them- why, there was nowhere else where these things could happen, where these events could unfold. I was lucky to meet people from movies I'd seen and books I'd read. It was- there was an air of adventure to all of it, despite everything that makes this place...
Well, this place.
But when I came back, it was- it was like the whole placed had been doused in it. I say 'doused' because it's the only comparison I can make. After all, it's not really a 'scent', is it? But language doesn't have a word for what we can feel, what we Know, for what draws our Eye. It's the sense of it, Knowing that there's a statement somewhere. In a bag or in my office. That's where I used to feel it, all of them collected and neat and tidy in their box.
Now? Now, it was everywhere. Every one. Every person, brave or cowardly, vicious and cruel or soft and sweet. I think- I think that if I really focused, I might be able to tell how- how soaked they are, how thoroughly, but I try not to. It's enough of an invasion as is, the way it's just endlessly in my- my nose, for lack of a better metaphor, in my lungs, sweeter and more intoxicating than any cigarette.
[ A soft huff. ]
I smoke so much more now. I think most people assume it's because I know it can't kill me, that my lungs heal as quickly and easily as the rest of me does, but that's not it. No, I smoke because whether I'm starving myself on written statements or drinking in the living, breathing words of terror from people who care about me, care enough to open a once-more metaphorical vein to feed me...
I can always smell it. Taste it on the air. Feel it around me.
So all these witches and heroes and villains and tyrants... they're fantastic. Fantastical. They're larger than life. But I Know, I Know, just how vulnerable all of that can be, just how much pain and trauma and fear is living inside the hearts that beat aboard this ship, just how much every single one of them is a person. A person with fears. A person with reason for fear. And I'm sure any number of people here know that. I'm sure people have an understanding of that, of course they do.
But none of them Know it the way I do, every minute of every day aboard this ship. Every breath I take. Every heartbeat. And none of them know just where to put their hands, just where to reach in, just how, to pull all of it out. No [ a mirthless laugh ] and they'd be horrified at the very idea. I'm horrified by it. And I've done it, albeit not here. Never here.
It would be easy if it just made me hungry. Or sad. Or angry. Or worried. It would be easy if there was one simple emotion around... all of that. But the closest I've got is a certain kind of loneliness, one that [ that laugh comes back, louder now ] you of all people alleviate.
I'm sure you don't have your powers, not the way you used to. That's how this place keeps from being completely insane. But I can't imagine you don't Know. Some part of you Knows. And I hate that it makes me feel...
no subject
This is the only time, the only place, he could ever give this statement.
And to the only person. ]
Most people who come here come have their world, their view... expanded. Multiple worlds, multiple universes, powers, magic, superheroes, cosmic space adventures... and it's not wrong to say that was true of me as well. I've certainly seen and heard of enough things to make Horatio's head pop clean off if he tried to dream of it, quite frankly, and experienced even more in my time on this ship.
That all happened while I was still... me. Entirely me. Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, of course, still- still that, but not- Not quite the Archivist. I ended up pulled back, forced to live through the Unknowing, through Tim's death and Daisy's disappearance, and when I came back I was- I was different.
Everything was different.
You see, when I first arrived, I knew that there were dozens upon dozens of stories to be heard, to be told, to be observed. That the overlap of worlds and the people from them- why, there was nowhere else where these things could happen, where these events could unfold. I was lucky to meet people from movies I'd seen and books I'd read. It was- there was an air of adventure to all of it, despite everything that makes this place...
Well, this place.
But when I came back, it was- it was like the whole placed had been doused in it. I say 'doused' because it's the only comparison I can make. After all, it's not really a 'scent', is it? But language doesn't have a word for what we can feel, what we Know, for what draws our Eye. It's the sense of it, Knowing that there's a statement somewhere. In a bag or in my office. That's where I used to feel it, all of them collected and neat and tidy in their box.
Now? Now, it was everywhere. Every one. Every person, brave or cowardly, vicious and cruel or soft and sweet. I think- I think that if I really focused, I might be able to tell how- how soaked they are, how thoroughly, but I try not to. It's enough of an invasion as is, the way it's just endlessly in my- my nose, for lack of a better metaphor, in my lungs, sweeter and more intoxicating than any cigarette.
[ A soft huff. ]
I smoke so much more now. I think most people assume it's because I know it can't kill me, that my lungs heal as quickly and easily as the rest of me does, but that's not it. No, I smoke because whether I'm starving myself on written statements or drinking in the living, breathing words of terror from people who care about me, care enough to open a once-more metaphorical vein to feed me...
I can always smell it. Taste it on the air. Feel it around me.
So all these witches and heroes and villains and tyrants... they're fantastic. Fantastical. They're larger than life. But I Know, I Know, just how vulnerable all of that can be, just how much pain and trauma and fear is living inside the hearts that beat aboard this ship, just how much every single one of them is a person. A person with fears. A person with reason for fear. And I'm sure any number of people here know that. I'm sure people have an understanding of that, of course they do.
But none of them Know it the way I do, every minute of every day aboard this ship. Every breath I take. Every heartbeat. And none of them know just where to put their hands, just where to reach in, just how, to pull all of it out. No [ a mirthless laugh ] and they'd be horrified at the very idea. I'm horrified by it. And I've done it, albeit not here. Never here.
It would be easy if it just made me hungry. Or sad. Or angry. Or worried. It would be easy if there was one simple emotion around... all of that. But the closest I've got is a certain kind of loneliness, one that [ that laugh comes back, louder now ] you of all people alleviate.
I'm sure you don't have your powers, not the way you used to. That's how this place keeps from being completely insane. But I can't imagine you don't Know. Some part of you Knows. And I hate that it makes me feel...
Less...broken. Less alone.