expiationlogs | Hey who the hell is this guy? (Open & Closed)

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Hey who the hell is this guy? (Open & Closed)

Who: A man who isn't going by "Gogol" right now
Where: Aldrip (now with better accuracy!) The Inn, an abandoned house at the edges of town, at a diner.
What: The assorted shenanigans related to a certain local murder clown who has faked his own perma-death to assume a different identity. There will be various toplevels in the comments. This is "closed-ish" because it's not 100% closed but there's a lot of ooc plotting and scheming going on so please come join in on the plotting scheming instead of blitzing in with a "hey you guys that's obviously Gogol" when other people are investigating.

Getting short-lived CR with the nice, helpful, and well-mannered salaryman is 100% open though because frankly that's funny.

Edit: now including a top level for his sentencing failure.

Warnings: Kidnapping, nsfw dialogue, law advice for the dubious, torture (includes finger trauma).

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[ Unironically he admires the glimpse of the person he sees through the gaps between the curtains that is an idiot's guise. This is a little more than being seen by someone else looking in— ]

Certainly, although if you wanted to be even more accurate you could say that I hate that I'm designed to hate it. I'm guilty of entertaining the thought that we can break free from that mold even if it means cultivating the very worst of humanity.

[ —it's a sudden flash of opening one's eyes to realize that although their paths couldn't diverge more the way this someone else is rationalizing and seeing the world is eerily comparable. It's a belated realization that makes Nikolai's eyes go wide and an involuntary shiver run up his spine. There's an itch to press his thumbs into sha-ming brain to pull it apart to have an even better look—it finds a place to settle and prickle at the back of his own mind. It's altogether a giddy and sickening feeling.

Embedded somewhere deeply within a soul-deep sorrow is an opposing feeling of happiness. Bringing his free hand back down to plant on the counter Gogol rests his cheek upon a palm, his mouth quivers upwards into a wide smile. Now where ever has that mousey persona gone to? It's on a 15 minute unpaid break to make way for a intense stare that surveys the unreadable expression on sha-ming's face. ]

Conversationally, is that better or worse than not knowing how to proceed with escaping those shackles?

[ sha-ming is placid, a man who offers little variety in expression in his most earnest state; electric smiles and shifting saccades freeze over, melting into the primordial soup of his soul. all of his edges sand down, smooth and serious -- it's as if all of that manic energy has evaporated right off of him.

his shoulders are firm, his eyes attentive as he listens. and he thinks, retreating into his mind, traveling from one memory to another before letting the question percolate -- not rot. ]

A long time ago, [ he starts. ] my parents were researchers. Studied intelligence in primates...monkeys: bonobos, actually. I never questioned why. Didn't matter to me. But I remember them sayin' once...that the reason they chose bonobos -- was 'cause even though our thought patterns, behaviors and instincts all originate from primates...

Bonobos were the only ones who predisposed to love and peace.

[ there is an undercurrent of sorrow there, low in his throat. ]

You said you want to be free, even if it brings out the worst in people. Does bein' free to you mean giving into those impulses -- killing, maiming, stealing, screwin' people over?

[ a sip of his drink. his fingers hover over his goggles, as if feeling for their presence. ]

...I wouldn't blame ya for that, even if I don't agree. Sounds fucked up, I know, but... [ a pause, like he's thinking. ] It's hard to spend your life pretending.

...But those impulses are things we're taught: social behaviors developed over history. Humanity'll tell you there's a difference between a serial killer and a soldier. That ain't true.

[ his fingers clasp around the stranger's once more, firm and certain -- suddenly, he brings his hand up, spreading his fingers apart so that their palms are flat against one another. thumb to thumb, index to index. ]

I think all animals are born wantin' the same thing: to live and to be seen. I dunno if freedom exists. I've been chasing after it my entire life. Was... tired of never having control...

[ a sigh, as he closes his eyes. ]

But maybe choosin' to have this conversation at all -- to touch you was somethin' born of my own free will. I'll take that for now.

[ The living atmosphere in the bar around them carries on like time hasn't stopped for Gogol—Someone passes the storefront without a care for the volume they use to speak or how that presses into the space as they pass. There's a moment of stillness at the bar counter and Gogol spends it stunned speechless. The sensation of breath escaping from his chest is felt and not heard. It's all ephemeral save for the faint clamminess growing from the fingertips to the palm pressed against another.

Opposing God's design by fighting to lose sight of oneself... evolving past the simplicity found in the natural world to want more to the point of causing one's own suffering. Both are different ways to frame Nikolai's relationship and struggle with the human condition that have been posed to him. Both succeed in degrees at personifying what he wants most: for someone to understand.

Contrary to the popular belief that he even encourages himself, senseless violence isn't his goal. Killing heartlessly and without reason has always been a mask he wears for the victims. It feels irrational but it still makes sense to them to die at the hand of a madman because then they won't die confused. A very twisted expression of his empathy, in other words... It's easy to reminiscence about things in the past when his conversational companion does the same.

Eventually he finds his words again. ]

Impulses? No. At the end of the day the concept of good or bad don't matter when it all comes back down to the chemicals released by your brain.

I resent being controlled by anything resembling an impulse.

[ An affable correction as he commits to a new change in their point of contact. Shifting his hand to the side and curling his fingers inward he lightly captures the tips of the younger man's own in his to use as a means to bring the flat top of the hand up to his mouth. There's a complicated cocktail of emotions that flitter through his eyes as Nikolai looks through his lashes at sha-ming. A brief kiss is pressed in between the index and middle knuckle.

Barely lingering on it he soon draws away entirely. He's gay-coded and European so have fun deciphering the exact meaning of that one. Maybe the following words help? The ones he offers after a visible swallow. ]

Although we don't agree on the best way to prove that freewill—this conversation means a lot to me.

[ All of the sincerity previously worn on the sleeve evaporates in an instant. There's the sound of senseless mirth in his tone now. ]

That's why it's so tragic I might have to kill you later! Like seriously, I wasn't planning on it 'cause I'm really preoccupied with something else right now. But what are the chances you're not going to get all chatty about this to someone else as soon as I leave, riiight?

[ He chirps. In a furthered act of defiance to the vulnerable feelings a moment ago he also winks in a way that comes off as pretty malevolent given the words coming out of his mouth. ]

[ to be trapped by biology — the fundamentals of the body and psyche, the very things that have written you into existence. it’s a compelling dilemma, an eternal question even amongst academics. he’s caught in the past for a fraction of a moment, the hushed murmurs of his parents weaving through the leaves of the forest. ]

You’re limitin’ yourself. [ he counters calmly — and he realizes how much he sounds like them. ] Those chemicals exist ‘cause somebody told ya they did. Yer awareness of how they work all comes down to that. Science was created ‘cause people took the risk of wantin’ to understand what it means to be alive.

…But there are things we can’t put into words. Things we can’t test or quantify. The brain’s one of ‘em.

[ “so lighten up — there’s more to it all than you think.” is on the tip of his tongue before it dies. good and bad were subjective standards, constructs created by people who wanted to control human behavior to their benefit.

but the heart acts of it’s own accord. fights reaction responses and instinct. will forfeit survival and reason, drive you to things that make no sense even within the realm of your own mind. doesn’t that mean something? ]

[ what happens next — supersedes any expectation that might have been roiling in his mind. his fingers are wound around his, and he lets him have his way, morbidly before lips press into the hollows of his knuckles.

sha-ming opens his mouth like he wants to say something. it closes promptly. his tongue dries, and his cheeks flush hot, red dappling his skin. ok. this is fine. what the fuck. ]

…H-huh.

[ ??????? ]

[ THAT he expected. alright. this makes sense. it‘s fine! it’s fine. he’s definitely not still flustered. sha-ming heaves out a sigh before leaning in again, expression muted and calm. ]

Wouldn’t be any point in tellin’ someone. This was a risk for me too, yanno?

[ what in the world he has gotten himself into… whatever. ]

Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re the predator and I’m the prey. I’m not gonna make it easy for you, ‘kay?

[ there’s a flash of a grin there, sharp around its edges. ]

Why don’t we smooch on it? Keep whatever came out of these mouths in between ‘em.

Haha WOW. No one, uh,

[ They're taking turns being flustered it seems. Although he is a bit of a professional so the stutter that's allowed to come out is pretty calculated. The warmth fanning across the tips of his ears is really the only thing giving him away in a more sincere way. ]

...this is usually where people stop the flirting if they even were in the first place! Guess you really were telling the truth earlier huh?

[ Problem is it's a lot of trust to let this guy off because he's being cute about it? Realistically he should kill him. ]

[ ... ]

[ or something...? ]

[ ... ]

[ The salary man slips his arm through Sha-ming's and inclines his head towards the exit. Then meekly: ]

Not here, okay?

[ Because the dark alleyway right outside is the perfect spot clearly. It's exactly where he's going to lead Sha-ming to if he doesn't resist. ]

[ for a man capable of scientific breakthrough, he sure is stupid! and that’s precisely why despite every instinct in his body telling him this was undeniably a bad idea, the prospect of getting a kiss is just too tantalizing.

so he smiles — his sharpened canines poke out proudly, and he cants his head, leaning in even closer. ]

If it’ll help ya save face, Mister.

[ an alleyway, huh? this would be an opportune time to kill him. or maim him and leave him to rot on the concrete jungle.

oh well. he’s here regardless, shadows bleeding long and jaundiced, enshrouding the two of them. ]

Well? Not gonna chicken out, are you?

[ For a time Nikolai actually commits to the idea that they might make out in this dirty alleyway. Wears a matching grin as he plays along. He presses in close enough to start counting the hairs found in an eyelash. ]

Chicken out? No. But I am so very sorry Sir,

[ Until the very moment he twists the younger around to face the wall violently. With some of the other methods of knocking people out being quite violent indeed he resorts to a rear-naked choke to... gently... persuade Sha-Ming to pass out. ]

...but you shouldn't walk down dark alleyways with strangers.

[ Did you know? This exists for whenever you might want it! The more u kno ]

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