logsinthenight | From the windows (from the windows) to the walls (to the walls)

Entry tags:

From the windows (from the windows) to the walls (to the walls)

characters: Sora, Crowley, Matt Murdock, Hana, Midge Maisel, and you!
location: Beacon, with a quick detour to the lake post-freeze.
date/time: January 3rd through the 10th! (And one on the 13th if I can get away with it - Sora wants to go ice skating!)
content: Sora is on his grind! Taking names! Making friends! Paying his dues! Having fun! Trying to work so hard that his existential crisis forgets he's there! (Will match tag format.)
warnings: Warning for low self-esteem and, uh, Catholicism?

[ A: A visit to a new friend. Closed to Hana Song (and maybe the other residents of the cabin?) ]

Day three of the convalescence of Hana Song. Sora's in the cabin again, walking to her door with a paper bag under his arm after giving a brief, polite, completely friendly greeting to her roommates. They're very lucky that they took her in, and even helped find them splints and bandages so her arm and leg would heal straight. (That took a lot of reapplications of the Cure spell! It's sort of strange to think it's been reduced to the same effect as super fancy band-aids and anesthetic.)

He'll knock at the door of her room in the cabin. "Hey, Hana? You awake?"

[ B: Bad Catholic checks out a creepy pagan cathedral. For Matt Murdock, but open otherwise. ]

It's Sunday, so it seems like a perfectly reasonable day to check out the little church he saw on his many, many trips to and from the boat when he first got here. Skyler never really took religion seriously, and only went to Mass when the rest of the family did for Christmas and Easter, and even then he only did it because Arielle wanted to go see the lights and hear the music with everyone, Skyler included. If there's Catholic guilt here, it's only here because Arielle managed to make Skyler feel bad for not pretending to give a fuck.

In a lot of ways, Sora has even less of an attachment to organized religion than Skyler did. After all, he was living proof that the soul did not conclusively go to a heaven or a hell. And even if his existence wasn't conclusive enough, the many times he died in all of his lives and the many ways death and the afterlife has manifested has shifted his perspective of an all powerful God who reigns over heaven by just a bit. A church shouldn't change his perspective on that.

But, again, in a lot of ways, Sora is Skyler, except honest. And if he was being honest with himself, he liked the peace and beauty of a church as much as Ari did. He was just curious to see it, is all.

He shuts the tall door behind him and looks around the atrium, lifting his lantern to see as much of the architecture as he can. No clear dedications on his way in. What a weird place.

"Is this place Anglican," he asks, half to himself and half to the darkness of the pews in front of him. His eyes are now more or less used to the constant, overpowering dark of Beacon, but he still doesn't know if anyone else is in here. No nightvision for him.

[ C: Library. Open. ]

Throughout the week during his stay at the library, Sora will slowly, inevitably, grudgingly take an interest in the books around him. He's really not big on fiction - he's not creative enough to make them interesting - but the non-fiction will capture his interest. Practical books on cooking and first aid grab him first, followed by anything else that seems like it could come in handy in the near future - morse code, music, diy and repairs. (He makes sure to put them back in the reshelving areas, not on the shelves - he's not entirely a caveman, and the Elvira person on the network told him to be careful and clean up after himself and others. Which he does!)

Where do you find him? Wandering around with a book in his hand? Reading at one of the tables? Passed out drooling on one of the tables? Were you interested in something in the fiction section, only to find his cot in the way of your books? Is he in the cot? Who knows! I don't know. It's up to you.

[ D: The Invincible, the Kitchen. For Midge Maisel, but open to anyone who can catch him arriving or leaving. ]

Hey, Midge. Remember that teen who shyly poked his head into the kitchen a few days ago and asked in a very, very slight New Jersey accent if he could use the kitchen just to make some things and leave? The kid who proceeded to come back every day, right after the end of the daily meal, to make something to eat before cleaning up (and he always cleans up - maybe not perfectly, with things in the wrong places, but there are no crumbs or stray utensils left out) and heading out again?

Yup. Same teen. He's toasting a couple of pieces of bread in butter, layering cheese and some slices of turkey he found somewhere on top. It's nothing extraordinarily fancy, and he's just going to pack it up and leave again, but this time, he's making enough for two. He also has a bowl with him, and inside... that's a fruit salad, isn't it? Slices of apple, grapefruit, orange, peach, and a few more fruits rest inside, dotted with blueberries and grapes. Who exactly is he making all of this for? Why is he making it? Why can't he just eat with everyone else??? It is a mystery.

[ E: Armory. Open. ]

On the third day of the blizzard, Sora gathers all of the clothing he can and some snowboots he nabbed from the general store and hikes the miserable 40 minute hike through driving snow to the armory. He makes sure to go there when the regular lessons with Javert aren't going on - as much as he'd love some company, he doesn't want to risk running into anyone else while he tests out his spells, especially if they make him think about who he is and why he's doing any of this. One thing at a time!

He's tacked a piece of paper to wall. On this paper is a list of every spell and ability he can reasonably test without someone else there to help him. Time to do some experimenting.

Why are you out here? What are you doing? It's so cold! There's so much snow! But if you're in the armory for some reason, you'll see a weird kid in the basement at the range, with a giant key in his hands, casting magic spells that send pinpricks of light spinning at the targets at the other end of the range. How curious are you? (And seriously, what are you doing out there right now?)

[ F: Sora has skates and will now sksksksksk across the ice. For Crowley, but open otherwise. ]

Pretty self explanatory. Granted, the skates are VERY beautiful, made of glassy crystal, with a pair of crystal hand-glove-claw things to match, but they seem to be for aesthetics only. Sora will stay near the edge of the water - he doesn't want to risk falling through for several reasons - and he skates with the comfortable motions of someone who doesn't skate professionally but can and does skate for fun.

But indeed, there he go. Sksksksksk across the ice, his lantern bumping at his hip. He could use some company. He will, in fact, wave and skate over if he sees he has an audience. You aren't getting away without a chat, pal. (Unless you're a Riku or Vanitas, in which case he will seriously consider drowning after all.)

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"The benefit of this one is speed, not strength," the Soldier begins, drawing a knife of their own that's about the same size and shape as Sora's.

Then the Soldier walks Sora through a different way of holding the blade than he's done before: not point first for stabbing, but the point away from his body, for slashing. No touching still, because they're not up for it and maybe Sora isn't either, but with plenty of demonstration and slowing things down for proper understanding. The Soldier is, perhaps surprisingly but perhaps not, a pretty damn good teacher, patient and thorough. They shed another jacket in order to more accurately show body and foot positioning, show the grip with both hands in case Sora is more comfortable with his left, and repeat the slashing motion in slow motion multiple times.

All they're doing now is the new grip and one motion, but they make the kid practice it until he has perfect form and can do it at speed five times in a row.

Sora's a good study and follows the soldier down to the letter! He's rather forward about asking questions about positioning, and his mood lifts quickly and visibly as soon as the technique starts clicking and he's able to work out how to do the forms on his own. These knife lessons are the first time he's ever had anything close to formal combat training in any life, and with the soldier's support, he's showing steady improvement! He's not the best at it, but it's clear that with enough practice he'll be as capable as anyone else.

After about perhaps ten repetitions of the new motion with the new grip, he finally gets the form down five times in a row. He whoops, pumping his free hand in the air! "Finally! Did ya see that?" He spins back to the soldier, a pleased grin on his face. Whatever was on his mind is at least on the backburner now.

He holds his fist out expectantly, but after a second, he draws it back, looking at it. "Wait, sorry, do you know what a fistbump is?"

"I did see-- that." The pause is to twitch at the sudden introduction of fist into nothingness, in their direction. They blink at it owlishly. "No. Fistbump?"

It sounds fairly straight-forward, though, and probably not actually dangerous, so they hold out their flesh hand and make a fist, mimicking Sora's gesture. Not without immediate touching distance, in case it's viewed as a threat somehow. Even though Sora wouldn't really be thinking someone mimicking him is threatening, probably. Better to be safe.

Sora beams. Honestly, he expects that the soldier will never, ever hurt him. (And to be honest, if they did, he probably wouldn't even be mad.)

He holds out his fist, then taps their knuckles together together briefly. "Bam. There. Now you know how to fist bump." Sora sheathes his knife, then stretches his arms up, resting his hands behind his head. "It's like, a handshake, but you can also do it if something good happens. It's like a really short celebration between friends."

That. Is great. Not even sarcastically great. The Soldier starts to smile. "Celebration between friends. ... Bam." They're friends, now, it seems. The Word Has Been Said. Also, that is great. Just the right amount of touch to make a connection but still feel safe. "I'm going to teach that to Misty," the decide aloud. She wants more touch than they can usually give her, but this-- this they can do.

Oh, they like it! Sora brightens, grinning when they repeat the "bam". They really like it!

"You should teach it to anyone you like. Fistbumps are cool. The Librarian likes them, too." Sora will be most definitely be trying this on the Postmaster and Rastus next. Everyone will fistbump in Beacon if he has any say in it.

... Right. Sora looks back at his list, then straightens his back, walking toward it. "I'm done with this," he says firmly, folding it up and sticking it in his pocket. And then, almost like an afterthought: "Sorry about. Earlier." He pauses, collecting his thoughts. "I guess I've been thinking about things more than I thought."

He turns around, walks to the table, and begins to pick up his other four sweatshirts. "I'm really glad I can help around here! I wanna help save people's lives. That's a good thing, and I was glad to hear it." He puffs out his cheeks. "I guess I just felt really grateful to be needed. You know?"

"It's okay. I have shut-downs, too. Not usually over helping people, but your programming is not the same as my programming. So that's fine." It may not register as a shut-down or programming to Sora, but the Soldier only has so many associations they can label things with. It's probably clear enough.

They do take in his actions with approval, though. Time to go, then, good. The Soldier collects their own discarded layers, already plotting their course back to the village. Considering potential detours for hot food and comforting activities before letting the kid go back to the chilly, unfriendly library. "If you have advice for how to bring you out of them better. I'm all ears."

"My...?" Sora hasn't really heard them talk about their past in terms of being programming. He immediately thinks - oh, like Tron - and then. Ah.

He starts pulling on his sweaters, his hair popping through the collar in an even more unruly burst of dandelion spikes, then reaches to pull on the oversized coat he uses to insulate the whole thing. "This was good. I forget what my problems are when I'm doing something else." He thinks for a moment, pulling up the zipper on his coat. "I guess it doesn't solve the problem, but it's good for stuff like this."

When it comes to the problem, though... Sora makes a face, almost like a smile, but with the attitude of someone sticking out their tongue. "I think about things sometimes, but it's never given me problems to just think about them. I know they'll get out eventually. I talk about everything." He thinks about it for a second. "I've never had to... fix something like this before. I mean, I - he, Skyler - had, but I couldn't help him. This is me, though. I've never - for me." Does he... talk about this? It's what he does for other people, right? Let them talk about things, just to get them into the air. He knows he can handle other people's burdens. It's what he's good at. But what if he's the one with the hurt? Who does he talk to?

Donald. Goofy. Riku. Kairi.

Ah. There it is.

"I guess... I don't know who to talk to anymore," Sora finishes, pulling the hem of his coat into place.

It was an important step in the Soldier rediscovering how to interact with people to understand that others are in fact programmed, just not usually via brainwashing or even necessarily abuse, and that others also have a hard time overcoming their own programming. It's not the typical word most use to refer to ingrained or trained behaviors, but it fits their own paradigm too well to not use.

That coat is way too big. The Soldier eyes it thoughtfully while Sora thinks, pondering how best to take it in, then shrugs into their own coat. Which fits perfectly, thank you very much-- perfectly when they're wearing at least three layers underneath, anyway. "There are good people here," they say. "In this place. I'm sure almost anyone would be happy to let you talk to them if it would help." He's already met Aziraphale over the network, after all, that's a good choice. Or maybe they can introduce him to Misty. Rosinante is good with freak-outs, too.

Point is, there's options, and probably a bunch the Soldier won't even think of. It doesn't occur to them that Sora might choose to talk to them. They're not a person, after all. Missing pieces of their heart, or whatever Sora's heart talk actually refers to.

Yes, this coat fits like a tent, but it also! Holds! All four sweaters Sora's wearing right now! (Really. He may be from the mid-Atlantic, but he's also from a tropical island. Just because he can handle a little cold now doesn't mean he wants to.)

Sora thinks about it, then slowly shakes his head. "This... is a little complicated. I don't know how to explain things well." Maybe that's the reason why he never talks about what he's thinking - he wants to make sense, so he holds it in until he has something that makes sense, or it's important to say it because someone else needs it.

"I think you're the only one who knows most of the story, and that's because... You're. We're sort of in the same boat." It's been easier to explain.

"... Is it okay? If I tell you things?" Sora is pulling on his gloves and doesn't look up. "I guess it's kind of weird to ask." Not that they'd know that. Not that they'd judge him. They have, in fact, done the opposite of judging him. They just let him... say things. And they agree and get the ideas that Sora's always sort of felt like were too weird to talk about, even in Locke City, where a lot of people were also, technically, in the same boat.

There's a distinct hesitation, but one of confusion rather than distaste. Uncertainty is clear on their face. "Me. Kid. Literally anyone else would probably be more helpful to you."

It doesn't help that they've had... bad luck, lately. With actually helping people with emotional problems. Particularly people like themselves. If there's a physical need, they know how to handle that. Protection, instruction, providing food and shelter: those, they're okay with, maybe even good at. But the rest?

"Not saying I wouldn't want to help. But kid. I'm not even a person. What good am I gonna do you?"

For a second that could slice through concrete, Sora's heart drops to hear their tone - they're going to say no, they're going to walk away like Riku did - but then steadies, then sort of jerks in their direction as they explain themselves. His own problems simply vanish. What did they just say?

"How...? Huh?" Just complete bafflement. "I don't understand. How are you not a person?"

"I'm a weapon," the Soldier explains patiently, and without any particular distress at the words. Maybe some regret that they have to tell yet another person who's probably not going to take it well. (One of these days, you're gonna actually stop telling people. Not gonna let anyone get the wrong idea, Sergeant.) "I take orders, I have handlers, get worked on by technicians. Like you said, like your world's Heartless-- emptied out. Except I only kill what I'm told to kill."

Sora's frown deepens. It's not as though he's never met anyone who doesn't have a heart before - he's met plenty, actually, with different personalities and a shocking amount of personhood for people who felt nothing at all.

(A soft pang of guilt he wills away. He did end up murdering them. Some of them more than once. That's... something he did. Before he knew. After he knew. If only not being Sora could also exempt him from the guilt.)

It's just that it's the first time that someone has ever told him that they couldn't do something for a lack of a heart besides not feel. Which is honestly the most confusing thing that has ever happened to Sora in thirty odd years worth of memories.

Sora tilts his head, measuring his words for a second. "Okay. Weapon thing aside. Did you think, all this time, you haven't been helping me?"

Uh. Blink. Brief replay of their conversations, today and in the past. Actually it felt more like they were just dumping their issues all over the place, rather than giving Sora any kind of actual support. They're not honestly sure what support looks like, beyond what they've gotten from others here, and that's not usually a brand of support they can manage. Thinking "what would Misty do" doesn't apply when one is not actually Misty. So they settle for, "No."

They can, however, take a hint from that question and guess, expression going a bit rueful, "I was wrong?"

That timid admission makes Sora's face crumple up with exasperation. And laughter, and joy, and dismay, and all kinds of feelings that he wishes that he could share with the soldier, because they're terrible and wonderful at the same time. They really had no idea, huh?

"I've only known you for like, what, a week?" He sticks his hands in his pockets, really digging them in for extra warmth. "I've been able to tell you things that I've never been able to tell anyone else. I feel happier after I've talked to you - not because you fix anything, but because you listen to me the way I listen to you. You make me feel less alone." He snorts. "I don't know what being a weapon has to do with it, but if it were up to me, I'd say that's what helping looks like."

... huh. A surprise, but a good one. The Soldier digests that for a moment. " ... good." Not a hard decision, that. They like to help, they're just not very confident about things that generally require acting like a person. "That's good. I didn't know, but I'm glad I am."

And they pull another one of those little rubies out of their pocket, to offer him. That plus the first one they handed over should mean one for each hand. It's not much, but the weird warmth produced by even one is still better than nothing, in that blizzard out there. "Nobody should feel alone. That's the worst. So if you feel like I'm helping, then you can tell me anything you want."

Oh, the ruby! He'd forgotten to give it back. He gets his own out from his pocket, but is a bit perplexed when the soldier hands another one off to him. He holds them in both palms, thinking through this action. Two rubies... one for each hand? To keep both hands warm.

Oh! It's a present!

This plus the okay means Sora is a delighted teen. He knows better than to go in for a tackle hug, so instead he'll grip one ruby in each hand and hug himself violently, spinning for good measure. "You're the best! We'll get you where you wanna be together! I promise."

Weren't they talking about Sora, not the Soldier? They watch his excitement with a kind of amiable bemusement. Cute, if baffling. "More thinking about where you wanna be, buddy," they say, sounding vaguely amused. "Come on. Let's get you home, before we disturb the psychic floating cat enough to come chase us out." Mewtwo is probably around here somewhere, since going out in the blizzard when you have no clothes let alone a proper coat would be very very dumb, and is possibly only leaving them alone because the Soldier is here keeping things under control.

Sort of. Things are only sort of under control.

"Yeah, yeah, one thing at a time." Sora has no idea how to think about himself in the best of times, it's true. Maybe they'll both learn about that someday.

The exhortation to get them both home gets Sora to stop spinning, at least, but the psychic cat turns Sora around, looking back at the soldier, quizzical. "The what," he asks. He's obediently moving toward the door, but that is a very strange notion. "... Can we meet the cat?"

"No. If they wanted to meet you, they would have come out. They came to stay out here to be further from humans." Look, the Soldier is absolutely uncertain of Mewtwo's gender, and they've been told in no uncertain terms that "it" is completely unacceptable when referring to sentient beings. So "they" it is. They usher Sora up the stairs to the main level without actually touching him, following him up the stairs. "Also, they're very large, so don't expect being able to. I don't know. Pet them." And not really a cat, but they're not sure what else they are.

A giant talking psychic cat. Sora allows himself to be ushered out, but he is looking back down into the dark corridors wistfully, trying to catch a peek of a gigantic kitty right up until they reach the doors.

"I'm coming back here," he says, firmly, as they step out into the cold again. "I'm going to make friends with the giant cat."

"Good luck." Only now, at the last minute with the door swinging shut behind them, does the Soldier wrap their scarf back around their face. This, they can bear better than a hat, but it's still not pleasant. "Just be kind to them, and if they ask you to leave, please do it. They have had a life a little like mine, and deserve to have their wishes observed now." Plus, that will probably help Sora win its trust, proving he won't be a jerk to it.

Sora listens and nods solemnly. He will, he will; he knows better than to follow something that hurts that much. He's not much of a once burned, twice shy kind of guy, but following a severe hurt to its epicenter has burned him down to the quick. He knows. He'll be careful.

"I guess if we're all gonna be dead, we're all gonna have to respect each other's wishes. It's not like the living can do it." He thinks about it. "I wish... more of us lived in worlds where we could have had that kind of thing when we were alive."

"I do, too," the Soldier agrees in a barely-audible mutter. Then they huff a breath against the stupid scarf, and start trudging out into the dark swirl of wind and snow, orienting off the building and their clear memory of where to go, at what angle, for how many steps to get back to the village. Otherwise getting back might be tricky.

Sora is automatically put into the space just behind and to their right, blocking the worst of the wind with their own much larger body.

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arsarcanum - 2020-01-18 22:19 (UTC) - Expand

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From the windows (from the windows) to the walls (to the walls)

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!!!! he said it. he said the f word

it's official they are Friends

\(;A; \ ) BRO!

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