[ He knew, even as a child, that his grandmother had no interest in him. That she resented his presence. Just like he knows that Elias hates him, and before he hated him, he didn't see him as anything more than a means to an end. And yet- ]
Hardly all that 'bad' when it's not going to kill me.
Oh, she would have taken full advantage of my current state to blind me and ensure that even if I did ever make it back, my connection to the Eye would be permanently severed.
[ He sounds almost fond at the thought of it. You can't help but admire the ruthlessness of the woman. ]
[ He's learned a few things. Not many, but a few. Like not to give away things without at least getting something you want out of it, if not everything. ]
Ah-- [ Elias sighs, sounding more pleased than anything else. ]
Of course. I'll be only a moment.
[ It's more than a moment, of course. Elias isn't sure this isn't a trap-- loathes that he can't know for certain it isn't. But it's unlikely, unless Martin is involved in the background. He had turned out to be much more of a devious thinker than expected, while Jon-- dear, straightforward Jon-- ]
You've learned not to simply give your hand away, Archivist. I'm impressed.
I try not to make the same mistakes more than... a few times.
[ He doesn't look at Elias, he looks out into the space around them, into the darkness and the stars between. He smokes his cigarette for a moment before he finally turns. ]
And my former inmate taught me a few things. Thankfully.
[ A soft chuckle. ]
She probably would have done something horrible to you, so it's for the best that she's graduated.
[ Despite seemingly trying not to look at him (odd, given his request to get him up here), he has his lighter still out and he'll offer a light once the man has his cigarette in place. ]
You would have liked her. She reminded me of Gertrude in a way.
[ He's quiet for a moment. A long moment. ]
There is a part of me, you know. That... longs. To work with you. To gain your approval. That still can't let go of the fact that you... chose me for a higher position.
[ One learns, over time, how not to react to things. Elias is particularly proud of his ability to keep a neutral face through just about anything. To See, without being seen to see.
He'd always been aware of Jon's desire for approval. He hadn't expected it to persist even here. He's careful not to show any reaction to learning of it. ]
Why shouldn't it be there? We aren't servants of the Lonely. What good is it to work towards something if it is never seen or acknowledged? Or in our case, understood by someone who can actually comprehend what something might mean?
[ He studies the cigarette in his hands. His tone is similar to the one he'd used that first day on the network-- neutral and cold. Jon can probably detect the thoughtfulness beneath it. ]
You saw how the majority of the others on board reacted to hearing what I used you to do. Very few comprehended just what it meant, for us or for the world. I suspect you've had as much luck warning others about me.
[ He makes an amused sound in the back of his throat. ]
While I keep being approached by people who'd like to see for themselves if I'm really all as terrible as all that. It's been decades since I've had such an active social life, I really don't know what to do with myself.
Most people here hardly understand anything from our world. They think fear is something they're beyond, something they can fight against with hard words and harder fists.
[ A soft huff and a shake of his head. ]
As I walk around like a cat in a fishery.
[ Fear all around, and a statements. So. many. statements. Thick enough in some that he feels like he can taste them when he talks to certain people. ]
This is the part, I suppose, where I'm supposed to show my hand by encouraging you to simply to take the statements you want from those reckless enough not to be wary of you. To which you'll respond along the lines of--
[ in a passable, though dramatic impressible of Jon: ] No, Elias. I would never do such a morally incorrect thing. It is important to respect the autonomy of everyone, even those who are begging to be taken advantage of. Our patron be damned!
[ He takes another drag on his cigarette, smiling faintly as he watches Jon's reaction. ]
[ That actually gets a short bark of a laugh and a shake of his head, a long drag of the cigarette, a subtle smile. He stares out at the stars. ]
I didn't drag you up here to be a caricature. I know you're not that... inelegant.
[ He lets the cigarette settle between his lips. ]
A ship full of murderers in a place where death has no meaning. But so so many of them are just... drowning in secrets. Fear. Terrible knowledge. [ He closes his eyes.]
[ 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...
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Hardly all that 'bad' when it's not going to kill me.
[ That's not a no. ]
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[ A soft chuckle. ]
Is that a good thing or a bad thing for an archivist?
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... I am rather disappointed I missed her.
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[ Very sure of that. ]
She was on the edge of it anyway.
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[ He sounds almost fond at the thought of it. You can't help but admire the ruthlessness of the woman. ]
I can't see even Tim attempting that.
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You’re still an inmate. Whatever else you are.
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[ He probably can't hide the trace of hunger in his voice from Jon. This he wants to know. ]
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[ And he stops. ]
Come up. I'll tell you in person.
[ He's learned a few things. Not many, but a few. Like not to give away things without at least getting something you want out of it, if not everything. ]
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Of course. I'll be only a moment.
[ It's more than a moment, of course. Elias isn't sure this isn't a trap-- loathes that he can't know for certain it isn't. But it's unlikely, unless Martin is involved in the background. He had turned out to be much more of a devious thinker than expected, while Jon-- dear, straightforward Jon-- ]
You've learned not to simply give your hand away, Archivist. I'm impressed.
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[ He doesn't look at Elias, he looks out into the space around them, into the darkness and the stars between. He smokes his cigarette for a moment before he finally turns. ]
And my former inmate taught me a few things. Thankfully.
[ A soft chuckle. ]
She probably would have done something horrible to you, so it's for the best that she's graduated.
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If only I had the words to express my gratitude. Alas.
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You would have liked her. She reminded me of Gertrude in a way.
[ He's quiet for a moment. A long moment. ]
There is a part of me, you know. That... longs. To work with you. To gain your approval. That still can't let go of the fact that you... chose me for a higher position.
I hate it. But it's there.
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He'd always been aware of Jon's desire for approval. He hadn't expected it to persist even here. He's careful not to show any reaction to learning of it. ]
Why shouldn't it be there? We aren't servants of the Lonely. What good is it to work towards something if it is never seen or acknowledged? Or in our case, understood by someone who can actually comprehend what something might mean?
[ He studies the cigarette in his hands. His tone is similar to the one he'd used that first day on the network-- neutral and cold. Jon can probably detect the thoughtfulness beneath it. ]
You saw how the majority of the others on board reacted to hearing what I used you to do. Very few comprehended just what it meant, for us or for the world. I suspect you've had as much luck warning others about me.
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[ Wry, and more bitter than he’s like, but what else is new? Even with a few tricks, he’s still… himself. ]
Then again, I’m hardly charming, so really, I shouldn’t be surprised.
[ He looks out. ]
They don’t know. They don’t care.
But you won’t see half of them talk to me off the network, that’s the funny part.
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While I keep being approached by people who'd like to see for themselves if I'm really all as terrible as all that. It's been decades since I've had such an active social life, I really don't know what to do with myself.
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[ A soft huff and a shake of his head. ]
As I walk around like a cat in a fishery.
[ Fear all around, and a statements. So. many. statements. Thick enough in some that he feels like he can taste them when he talks to certain people. ]
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[ in a passable, though dramatic impressible of Jon: ] No, Elias. I would never do such a morally incorrect thing. It is important to respect the autonomy of everyone, even those who are begging to be taken advantage of. Our patron be damned!
[ He takes another drag on his cigarette, smiling faintly as he watches Jon's reaction. ]
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I didn't drag you up here to be a caricature. I know you're not that... inelegant.
[ He lets the cigarette settle between his lips. ]
A ship full of murderers in a place where death has no meaning. But so so many of them are just... drowning in secrets. Fear. Terrible knowledge. [ He closes his eyes.]
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That's life, Archivist. Dread Powers or no. Terrible fear, lurking in the hearts of all things that have the audacity to draw breath.
We simply don't have the luxury afforded others to keep our eyes closed to it.
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[ He glances over at Elias again, and he wonders if Elias is playing with him or if he really can't- ]
T-the quantity, the density of it. Smelling out a statement in central London is simple enough, but this is-
This is something else entirely.
[ A soft, mirthless sound. ]
I don't want to describe what it feels like. It all sounds... insulting. Juvenile.
[ And it reminds him of something, but he can't quite figure out what. ]
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Tell me what it feels like.
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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.
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