fingeronthebutton | Duplicity IC Inbox

[Elias adjusts one of his sleeves while he waits, dusts imaginary dust off of his lap. There's a moment of silence before he starts but it's only a matter of a couple of seconds.]

Have you ever considered why the Eye is so terrifying? Why the Beholding has enough power to be one of the great terrors? Yes, I suppose you have given the terror that grips you when others try to reach out to it. But even that cannot compare to the vast depths of it, Jon. It goes far beyond the nightmares you walk each night.

She was four when she first noticed it. An eye. Singular and unassuming. One might even believe it to be a ball but in her childish mind she knew it to be an eye. Watching her and studying her.

She was five when she first told her father of it. They had been together since her birth had claimed her mother and he would do anything for her. But this was something his mind could not comprehend. He laughed and told her that she had such an active imagination. Of course she knew that wasn't true but her tears simply lead to sweet comfort that did nothing to stop the stare of that eye just beyond his shoulder she now cried on. Unwavering. Unblinking.

At ten she found herself fearing anything round, refusing all objects that could have eyes on them. Bears and dolls were all sure to cause her to scream. They were at a loss and the good doctor finally called in an old friend to the sessions when she was twelve and no progress had been made in two years.

An empty room devoid of glass. All eyes had to be covered with thick goggles with a matte material to avoid a reflection. Anything round? Forbidden. Yet she still shook as the pair of men entered, refusing to look their way. Especially at the guest of the good doctor. Her fear only grew as she slapped her hands over her eyes and kept swearing that the eyes were now all around her. She could see them in every color and the walls themselves were watching her as much as the men were.

The guest requested time alone with her, a request that was granted. There were no cameras now. No secret windows to observe. Only hope that this guest would be able to aid her in her plight. For that reason, there was no clear record of what lead to the tragedy in that room. Word of mouth changed the story each time. To this day there is only one man who can tell you for certain what took place in that room

[He pauses and has a sip of his coffee. He hasn't allowed Jon any room to speak and he doesn't allow it now either despite the pause.]

With someone so close to the eye, so haunted by it, I wondered if I could build something from her. Of course I readily accepted the invitation and watched with wonder as she pressed her hands so tightly to her eyes that it seemed she would push them to the back of her skull. After ensuring that I would have time alone with her, I began to speak and actually convinced her to uncover her eyes.

She told me that every surface in the room including the pair of us was made of eyes. That they all stared directly at her and came from a point in the room. It brought a smile to my lips as I told her to stare back at them. To stand up to the eyes rather than fear them. I needed to see what would happen even though I knew it was impossible for her to have the strength to withstand the full force of the Eye tearing into her very soul. Never the less, she did as I said while I sat there with a notepad and pen utterly transfixed as she attempted to have a stronger will than the eyes around her. This lasted a matter of minutes before I could see the exact moment her soul broke and she screamed.

Without hesitation, she grabbed the pen from my hand and started to stab them into her eyes over and over again until the liquid poured down her face. Even then she didn't stop, still trying to brutally destroy all traces of her eyes when they came rushing in to save her. They tried to save her but in the end the blood loss and trauma was too great and she died on the floor of that room.

Her last words as she rattled out a breath with a smile was this: "The eyes are gone, daddy. It's so dark now."

[With that, Elias falls silent, allowing Jon to absorb his tale as it finishes.]

Statement ends.

[It's like he's a starving man who's just been granted a full, five-course meal. The Archivist closes his eyes and breathes out a heavy, pleasured breath. This is, of course, horrifying. That poor little girl. But... fascinating at the same time. The Eye is rarely so direct with its victims (maybe outside of the Archivist, itself, mentally assaulting people). Or at least, he rarely gets Statements about its victims, likely due to them instinctively avoiding a place like the Institute.

The yawning pit in his stomach is filled for the moment, though, and that's good. It's bad he'd got that from feeding on one of Elias' multitudes of horrors. But... Christ, he needed that. After taking a moment to just relish the meal like a bloody addict taking a hit, he opens his eyes and focuses on the elder avatar.]

Madeline Hayes. [The name comes to him just as easily as her face, whether he's extracting it from Elias' memories or the other man is helping him along by pushing it out.] Why were you called in? Was your doctor 'friend' superstitious or did you insinuate yourself?

[Presumably, most doctors wouldn't have believed in the eye business.]

Edited (i swear i can type) 2020-08-21 21:35 (UTC)

I was another person in those days. The doctor was a friend of that person. Nothing more, nothing less. Really it was to my advantage since it meant I could see one of the times the Beholding reached out to someone so directly.

[He can see how satisfying it was for Jon to have that meal too. It brings a smile to his lips as he sees how settled he looks.]

He felt the incident was unusual and reached out to a friend who had been studying the unusual.

1913. Interesting. I suppose there's some silver lining in young Ms. Hayes's story. She never saw the War.

You said you were thinking of making something of her. one of your Archivists?

No. She wouldn't have been suited to that given her avoidance of the unusual. Not enough curiosity. But she would have made for an intriguing subject if she'd survived that day.

[On some level, Jon recognizes just how horrible this conversation is, how detached they're being. A little girl stabbed her eyes out, and they're discussing how she might have been turned into a puppet. The Archivist finds that he's more intrigued by the situation than anything else in the moment. He'll feel bad about it later.]

Did you ever find out why it targeted her in the first place? Just unlucky?

It would seem that is the case. My further research following that day didn't provide further evidence to suggest she might be special in any particular way outside of being a victim.

Pity. End recording.

[He presses the button to stop the recorder and considers the man across from him for a long moment.]

Tim isn't going to like me methods for fixing his memories. I'll have to find something gentler.

[But at least he knows what's real now.]

I think that's all. Unless there was something else you wanted to talk about?

[He lifts a brow at that.]

There is no gentle method for fixing a memory, Jon.

[He waves to the tape recorder.]

You have the evidence of that right here. Tim will be better off without you trying to fix everything.

There's no gentle method in our world.

[Magic is horrible and earned from Eldritch fear monsters, after all.]

I'm exploring possibilities outside of it. And he wants to remember the real Sasha.

[Would Tim have been better off if Jon had never told him the truth about the photo album? Probably. But he's not the avatar of gentle white lies.]

Edited 2020-08-26 14:01 (UTC)

Well that will be fascinating to watch the fallout for. Really, I must thank you for the constant entertainment you provide me, Jon.

[As he just...casually sips at his coffee. Perfectly confident this can ONLY go terribly like everything else Jon tries to fix.]

[That comment earns Elias an irritated glare.]

I don't intend for this to be entertaining. I'm going to find a way that won't hurt him.

Jon, when has you saving anyone ever resulted in no one being hurt?

[There's a long pause.]

Morrigan. [He regrets the saying the man's name to Elias almost immediately, but presses on.] I led him out of a den of silver-tongued backstabbers when this place went to literal hell.

Nothing bad happened.

Edited (Thanks autocorrect) 2020-09-04 13:42 (UTC)

Oh? Tell me all about it.

[He might allow this exception but only after he hears the story from Jon's own lips.]

[Jon's well aware that Elias could just pluck the information out of his head. Asking for it seems to be an actual courtesy... even if the implicit threat of taking it more or less overrides any actual choice Jon might have in sharing the story.]

It was before you arrived one year ago. The 8th of August. We woke up covered in fingerprints with some sort of 'sin' scrawled on our bodies. [His had been 'ALOOF' back then.] The city was warped into a hellish place with different domains people found themselves trapped in based on those sins.

[Jon had started in the lowest level of that hell... treachery. The shades of his victims, of Tim and Sasha, of the boy who'd bullied him and lost his life when it should have been Jon to die to the Web.]

I was exploring each domain, observing it. [Archiving like the good little living recorder he is.] I found Morrigan in Haven Hospital, a maze of confusing corridors and charlatans promising salvation. I owed him a favor, so I stepped in when I saw a pair of people trying to trick him. It was easy enough to compel the truth from them, their plans to steal his things. I told him to follow me if he wanted out, and he did.

I have my rib here with me. [Jon reaches down to touch one of his desk drawers absently. It has his rib and Raymond Fielding's disembodied, perfectly preserved hand hidden within it. Thank you, Agnes.] I focused on it and led us out.

I admit I was... very hungry after. It was like trying to find my way through a weaker version of the Distortion's corridors. But I didn't feed on Morrigan, just sent him on his way. I told him how to escape the hellscape, too. I still had a few more domains to visit... but I knew he'd want out as soon as possible.

And how did you feed?

[Yes. That is indeed his next question.]

There was a tavern spawning creatures from our own worlds. I ran into the Boneturner there. I took another Statement from him in return for one of my kidneys.

[And then Hawke had freaked out and intervened before Jared could take out his appendix in return for letting Jon and Hawke go free. Much more trouble than it needed to be.]

Which then led you to causing someone to panic out of concern for you. It led to injury and emotional suffering. One action trickled down into others that day. Something bad did happen from a result of your own actions, Jon. that is the point you wish to ignore but the one that stays relevent.

He wasn't- The only thing hurt was Jared. [Physically. Mostly. Jon had been hurt, of course, but nothing lasting. He expects he could lose quite a few of his organs at this point and still function. Somehow. But Hawke had escaped physically unscathed.

But horrified.

The Archivist could have fed on that encounter as a Statement.

Jon's expression falls.]

Get out.

[One time. Just one time he wanted to help someone without horrible consequences. Why can't Elias let him have that?]

Pain is not always physical, Jon. And self-harm is also a consequence.

[But he's not getting up to leave. After all, Jon has ordered him and he needs to understand where the power rests here.

Spoilers: It's not with Jon and never has been.]

Like you care if I self-harm.

Duplicity IC Inbox

cw: self harm, eye gore, death

cw: continue from above + reference to addiction and drug use

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cw: mentions of self-harm