expiationlogs | [ Trek Crew Catch-All ] And you may ask yourself

Entry tags:

[ Trek Crew Catch-All ] And you may ask yourself

Who: Jim Kirk, Spock, Tendi, Bones & friends.
Where: The Trek house!
What: Catch-all for the month's nonsense.
Content Warnings: Profanity. Potential for discussions of survivor's guilt and Gnosia-related trauma. ~~Old man yaoi.~~

See below for closed starters! This post will serve as a catch-all for the Trek cast~

Contact for plotting:

James "Jim" Tiberius Kirk |

trickster88, PM, Discord by Request/Game Discord

S'chn T'gai Spock |

askefise, Game Discord

D'Vana Tendi |

posolutely, Game Discord

Leonard "Bones" McCoy | PM, Game Discord, Discord: chatnoir

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[ Jim gets it; everyone's been dealing with the infection aftermath of their own accord, and with the way Claude's shop had been destroyed (and how is it that his shop gets destroyed, but other buildings seem to pop right back into existence as they are, completely whole again? Un-fucking-fair, Aldrip) - well, Jim's not taking the delay personally.

Claude looks good, and there's an iota of tension that eases somewhere in Jim's spine, just being able to lay eyes on him and confirm that. His Gnosia memories are blurry with pain and the torment of inescapable voices (add that to the nightmare rotation, you know, just in case his subconscious gets bored), so it was hard to determine just how badly they'd injured Claude during their shared psychosis. Based on the defensive injuries Spock had accrued, Claude hadn't gone down easy; but he had gone down, right into that fucked up little oubliette they'd constructed. Jesus H. Christ.

Anyway, Jim steps back to allow Claude entry, closing the door behind him. He doesn't offer a friendly pat the way he normally does - Jim's all too familiar with how off-balance it could put a person, after a friend becomes a foe. No, it's far better to let Claude determine his own comfort level. ]

Back exactly as they should be. [ Jim is also not fessing up to the weird-ass soulbond bullshit that gave him a direct mental link to Spock, established in the aftermath of everything. Not upfront, anyway; Claude had helped him sort through his own nonsense, but this was...a lot, even for Jim. ] And yourself?

Well, tonight's revelry will be the judge of that, [ Claude says lightly, as though he's joking -- but a part of him isn't. A part of him still doesn't trust them, even knowing that their heads had been tampered with, not due to any sort of misgivings about Spock and Jim as individuals, but out of distrust of what had happened to them. He's aware that this is how this place goes; you are impacted by a curse or a spell of some sort, and a few weeks later, you're back to normal. But he can't help but wonder what effects may still linger afterwards, pathways laid down in their brains, priming them to be the worst selves. Could it really fade away so quickly? He wonders. He knows of this madness back home, of people twisting themselves into monsters, vengeful, corrupted, the way that the only recourse is to simply put them down.

Not that he's complaining about not having to kill his friends, or at least to try. He's no monster. He's just suspicious, as he always is, his sword worn as readily at his hip. Not that that's a warning sign in and of itself; for as long as Jim and Spock have known Claude, he is never without his weapons, a General too accustomed to battle to feel truly comfortable without them. ]

I've gotta say, even after everything, I think the two of you got the shorter end of the stick, [ he says conversationally -- and despite his own death, genuinely. ] It's no fun having your mind scrambled like that. I have no normal to get back to; the powers they gave me didn't exactly change my personality. [ A quick wink. ] Just a title I've never lived up to in my life.

[ Angel? As if. ]

Revelry is my middle name. That's what the T stands for. [ Jim winks, circling around the end of the coffee table to take up on the armchair, and leave Claude the run of the couch. Bones, perhaps in pursuit of treat extortion from someone other than his exasperated owner, rises to greet Claude - giving up the pouting in favor of happy dog smiles and lolling tongue, typical. Jim snorts and reaches for the glasses, pouring a finger of bourbon for them each. ] Oh, don't let him bamboozle you - no, Bones, the cookies have chocolate in them. He's ridiculous.

[ The dog is absolutely turning on the charm in Claude's direction, oh-so-innocently ignoring Jim's laughter. If there's anything that can ease the doubts, surely it's Jim's bright warmth, so at odds with the unhinged, maniacal unpredictability of him under influence from the Gnosia. But Jim doesn't blame Claude for any lingering wariness, and he certainly strives not to take it personally. Claude having his weapon on hand is no tell, not unusual - Jim typically has his phaser, especially recently with the glitches, though he's not strapped in his own home - but Jim's been where he is. He knows how this works, and he knows it's not always linear - or logical. ]

I don't know about that. [ Jim offers Claude the second glass, taking a sip from his own. He can't help it - the apology is written all over his face. ] I doubt the pit we dug was...pleasant.

But no. [ He blows out a breath, shaking his head. ] Not exactly my idea of a fun Friday night. The infection took hold and shoved us down, inside our own heads. Part of us was fighting, though - that's why we didn't, ah, kill anyone, at least.

A halo might suit you, though. Some big, fluffy cherub wings...not your speed? [ Jim's smile returns, one leg hooking over the side of the armchair, because he never could sit properly. ]

Edited 2024-08-23 18:05 (UTC)

[ Claude is quiet for a moment, busying himself by all but flinging himself to the ground to pet him, cradling his face in his hands and giving his ears a good scratch. If there's one thing to help put him at ease, it's an animal; large and small, furry and scaly, Claude possesses a love of them all, and takes a moment to shove their noses together. ]

Ohhhhh, hello sweet thing. Who's a good boy? [ He leans back to really take the dog in, ears still laced through his fingers. ] Is it you? Noooo. Could it be?

[ Back in court, he'd never live this sort of thing down. But back in his peaceful Academy days, he'd spent many a sunny afternoon napping out in the meadows of the monastery, a stray cat or dog coming to share a sunbeam with him or, if he was really lucky, using him as a pillow. Even if the people here aren't real, Claude thinks, the dogs must be.

Still crouched by Bones, he accepts the glass of alcohol. It was poured from the same bottle, some insistent, irritating part of his brain wants to demand that he and Jim switch glasses, and instead he settles on surreptitiously swiping his thumb across the rim, searching for any irregularities, powders, liquids, so quick and subtle that it's difficult to see he'd done anything at all.

(Stupid. Stupid. It's Jim. He knows Jim. He has no reason to doubt him. No reason at all.) ]

I've been in worse spots than a pit or two. [ A coffin, for one. He clears his throat and brings the glass to his nose, breathing in its oaky sweetness. ] And, for that matter, my reputation has always been more devilish than angelic, may the Goddess have mercy on my transgressions.

[ It's said with the sensation of a wink; he is not a religious man, and invoking the Goddess, there's something deeply unserious about it. He gives Bones' ears another scratch. ]

...and I'm glad you two didn't have to give up your good sides. Trickery aside, I'm serious when I say it could have been worse.

[ He's been feeling worse for wear since dying, true. But he can't help but feel that he'd be in an even worse state if he'd killed someone else. If he'd killed someone else not in his right mind, that is; if he'd killed a Gnosia, he knows it would grieve him far less than killing an innocent soul. ]

[ The dog eagerly accepts the pets, tail wagging a mile a minute, clearly completely oblivious to the slight tension in their dynamic - good, Bones continues to act as the world's best icebreaker. There is the question of whether or not Bones is real, part of the fabric of Aldrip, or what. If he's part of the simulation, is he something the AI has access to, in the same way it has access to the tablets, to their private information? Hard to say. Clearly, it hasn't stopped Jim from welcoming the furry friend into his life, and if that's a risk - well, if it isn't blatantly obvious from his choices, risk is something Jim has decided to live with. In no small part due to Claude, their conversation combined with the clarity the Gnosia had given him.

Jim doesn't clock the check Claude does, though the taste from his own glass goes down smooth. Hopefully there's some comfort in that, having seen him pour them both from the same bottle - but Jim's been there, and wisely doesn't say anything about it or draw further attention to it (for the moment, anyway). If Jim acts like they're good and Claude acts like they're good, then they're good - and if there's something else Jim can do to make him comfortable, he'd like to think Claude would trust him enough to tell him. ]

Fair enough. How many of these before we start swapping war stories? [ Jim takes another sip of the amber liquid, letting the heady taste wash over his tongue. He hasn't had decent alcohol in a while - not exactly conducive to recovery - and it's been even longer since he drank just for the taste. ] Aw, well, Hell's where all the fun's at!

[ Surely Claude's contributions to the community at-large are considered a mitigating factor? Hell if he knows; Jim's never been particularly religious, so if there is some big judgement day coming, he's equally as fucked unless God becomes chill with a lot of stuff in a short amount of time. ]

Me too. I'm glad you got away. [ The relief that it hadn't been worse had warred with the guilt, as he and Gwen had set about letting all of those innocent people out of the cages they'd been trapped in. When they'd gone to free Claude, he'd already been on the loose. Still, Aldrip had already proven it could throw more at them; lucky was right. They might not be so well-suited the next time around. ] I can't argue with you there. Some days I worry it could be headed in that direction. The glitches these days...they're definitely getting more frequent, and more intense, too.

[ Claude is quiet, thumb idly stroking down Bones' snout in an even, soothing motion, a practice that makes it clear that he's owned dogs in the past. It almost always works to calm them down, eyes drooping and tail relaxing, much like a mother rubbing one's back. It's more for him than it is for the dog, pleased to have something to focus on, something to look at, anything other than meeting Jim's bright blue eyes for too long.

Everything still feels a bit much. The drink will help -- and to that end, he takes a sip, the liquor burning its way down his chest. Not unpleasantly, mind, but he's less accustomed to it than many would first assume. ]

Yes. Yes, they are. They've only affected me a couple of times, but... [ He swirls the amber liquid in his glass. ]

I remember when this place changed to look -- different, when we were all given different histories, different personalities. When we saw it all break down, we knew when things started vanishing. The second floor of my neighbour's house just vanished into thin-air. So did the people. I don't rightly know what will happen next.

[ He raises a brow at Jim, smiling past the grimness of it all. ]

My world's religions have an awful lot to say about the afterlife but, I'm afraid, very little about being erased from existence altogether. Bit of an oversight, that one.

[ Claude's more withdrawn than Jim has ever seen him, that much is evident. Jim settles in his chair, crossing one leg over the other, and balancing the glass on the flat of his knee. He definitely doesn't begrudge Claude keeping his attention focused; it wouldn't be the first time Bones had functioned as an ice breaker. For the dog's part, he seems perfectly content, nuzzling happily into Claude's proffered hand. ]

I hope to whatever God might be out there that doesn't happen again. [ But how do they stop it? Jeez, Jim only had to live it for a maximum of 24 hours with some of his glitches, and it had driven him nuts. For as long as Claude had? Jim knew it wasn't a comfortable experience, he can't even imagine.

Claude finally looks at him, with that raised brow and the kind of hard smile that Jim is all too familiar with. The one you give because you have no other choice; you have to grin and bear it. ]

There are some out there that don't believe in an afterlife of any kind. [ Jim tilts his head, offering Claude a small smile back. ] Though this sounds more like a fucked up version of reincarnation to me.

We're not going down without a fight. [ There's an edge to Jim's voice that speaks of conviction. Maybe more than he's ever shown Claude, the Captain within shining through. It's well-known by this point what he and Spock are, where they hail from, what it is they do - but a Captaincy is defined by how one purports themself during a crisis, and for all they've faced here, Jim's command instincts haven't had cause to assert themselves as intensely in the day to day here in Aldrip. Up until the Gnosia incident, that is - up until Jim had ordered Peter into keeping it together and complying. ]

I don't believe in no-win scenarios. [ Another sip of his drink, blue gaze steady and sure as he fixes it on Claude. ] No offense meant to your religion.

[ Wryly: ] Who said it was my religion?

[ It is his, as far as he now lives and rules what is effectively a theocracy; he has bent the religious tenets to his will rather than choosing to fight against it. He can fight only so many social mores at a time, and for all that he's sympathetic to Edelgard's anti-theocratic slant, he can't afford to join her in those passions. If he can use it as a tool, then he will, whatever that may say about him.

But a man like Jim, from a world seemingly without bigotry, whether that's against those of a different creed or against men who choose to lay with man as a matter of perpetual commitment rather than a lark before they go off and have children, is unlikely to adhere to most religions. Claude quite likes that idea, even if he is spiritually aligned with Almyra's own religion -- at least that never dictates how it is that Almyrans live their lives. ]

Now, I don't consider going to the afterlife a loss, per se. It's all a part of life, and it's all well and good that people have something to hold onto underneath difficult situations. But I, like you, hope to enter the afterlife only when I'm ailing of old age, harassing my grandchildren into carrying out all of my whims and fancies.

[ He swirls the amber liquid in his glass, staring pensively through it as Jim's visage sways and warps within it. ]

And apparently this place agrees with that ambition. Lucky me, huh? [ He's not ungrateful. He wasn't ready to die. ]

Trust me, I'm not willing to go down without a fight. That other version of me wasn't either. All versions of me seem to be a bunch of stubborn bastards.

It sounds like it might be, culturally, at least. Do you have a belief system you subscribe to, personally? [ Jim smiles, tilting his head in interest. He won't be offended if Claude brushes it off, but he is curious. Jim knows bits and pieces about Claude's homeworld, the war he'd been pulled away from - not dissimilar from the wars for the late 21st century on Earth. But the opinions he's heard Claude express often seem to align with the more progressive thinking that defined the 22nd and 23rd century. A man ahead of his time; so far, anyway, in all of Jim's assessments. ] Grandchildren, huh? A whole horde?

[ Jim had never considered much about whether or not he believed in the afterlife. He thought - there must be something. The idea of his mother being forever separated from her husband, never to see him again - was just too depressing to think about. Lives, cut too short - he'd hope there was something else out there, for them.

And then, the question of the eternal soul? Another thing he'd never thought much about, until Spock went and handed him empirical evidence. Yeah, don't even get him started on that one.

Jim's head twitches slightly as Claude contemplates his glass, brain whirring with what it is Claude just said. Which - did he hear that right? He contemplates it for a second before he decides it's probably better to just ask, straight up. Slowly, Jim inquires: ] What do you mean, 'Aldrip agrees with you'?

I think at that point, you get to claim stubborn bastard as a core personality trait. [ Jim makes as if to toast, lips curling at the edges. ] Good. They picked the wrong lab rats for their experiment.

[ There's a lot that Claude could say to all of those questions -- while he keeps the truth of his own religion a secret, he's more than open about its philosophies. And his religion is more a philosophy than an organized religion anyhow; everyone in Almyra seems to adhere to it in some way, but it's less baked into their governance than a theocracy like Fodlan. It had taken an awful lot of getting used to when he'd first arrived, frustrated at how everything was dictated not through logic, reason, facts, but by an adherence to the Goddess' teachings.

But then he's distracted by Jim's question. He wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't think Jim had already known. Say what you will about that - he's aware that some would have harsher words with him for wanting to keep something like that close to his chest - but Claude doesn't really think it's anyone's business. It didn't stick. It survived. So at the end of the day, it doesn't matter too much.

He lifts the glass to his lips, thinking about the most delicate way of putting it. ]

Ah. Dreary subject matter for an evening in, [ he says, smile tight-lipped. ] I thought you knew. The fellow who got me was clearly working strategically with others.

[ But then, Jim and Spock hadn't killed anyone. So perhaps they were on their own team. ]

Technically, I died. But I popped right back a few days later, so I hardly think that counts.

[ The matter drops in favor of the far more immediate question, and Jim blinks, caught off guard. Of all the things he might have expected Claude to impart - well, suffice it to say, that wasn't really on his list. It does move the goalpost of addressing the elephant in the room closer, however, so at least that's something. Jim still doesn't know how Claude escaped the oubliette, and for a moment he has to wonder - was he found there? Had Jim and Spock accidentally left him a sitting duck?
Christ, he hopes not.

Jim leans forward, forearms braced on his knees, one hand dangling his drink below them. He's heard of people coming back to life here but - Jim's never met anyone in specific that's been upfront about their personal experience. He himself died and came back, during a mission back home - but there were extenuating circumstances, and he doesn't exactly talk about it much himself. ] Spock and I were alone. We were - trying to curb it, trapping people instead of - yeah.

[ If they had been completely untethered, let loose to kill indiscriminately...Jim doesn't even want to think about it. It wouldn't have been pretty. Spock took Peter down with a single touch, and anyone solely human? It would have been utter carnage. ]

From one necromancee to another, it definitely counts. [ Jim's gaze falls over Claude, unable to stop himself, but Claude doesn't have any visible injuries Jim can detect. ] I'm so sorry, Claude. What happened?

Mmh.

[ He doesn't like the implications there. That it was possible to fight, provided you had a powerful enough backbone for it, or provided that you didn't go after people that you had any regard for. He and Miller aren't what anyone would ever call friends, but he thinks he's a fine enough fellow, and intelligent besides. The idea that he simply didn't try hard enough puts a sour taste in his mouth.

He can't believe that. Not of all those poor people who were out of their wits. He refuses to. However Jim and Spock were able to fight it, he won't put that on anyone else. ]

You know, I'm finding out more and more that everyone around here has died at least once -- and had been brought back, to boot. [ He gives Jim a crooked smile. ] It's quite bizarre. I had only known death to be a temporary thing. You'll have to tell me all about it, sometime.

[ He's dodging the question, though. He leans back a little. ]

You can still count it, if you like. But as long as I'm still standing, I don't. [ That's how he's dealt with it; just push it aside, out of mind. To dwell on it when it didn't even hold, when everyone else here seems to have no difficulties moving forward? That just makes him feel pitiful. ] It's not a very long story. One of the kids came to my door, asking for help -- poor thing was strangled half to death, had seen things he shouldn't have ever had to see. But he was followed. And only one of us was going to be able to walk out of that place alive.

[ He grins at Jim, a touch ruefully. ]

Good thing my enemies aren't here with me. I've gone soft.

[ Jim definitely doesn't mean to imply that, and frankly, there's a lot more to it. The fact that Spock mentally linked them before they were too far gone, that they had this deeper bond which was (now) solidified - well, there were other contributing factors. Having to survive that on his own? With no one else literally in his head, to help draw him back? Jim can't rightly say he would have fared much better on his own.

And, of course, it only got them so far. They still hurt people. Trapped them, hunted them for sport, lured them in with an evil version of a honey pot trap - yikes. The things he said to Gwen, when she caught and cornered him - what they did to Claude, in the end. Nothing was strong enough to stop all of that. ]

First person I've met. You're telling me there's a club? [ Jim tilts his head to the side, studying Claude's smile with a flicker of evaluation. ] Temporary? How do you mean?

Fair enough. [ If repression is the name of Claude's game, Jim won't push it. Well, not at the moment. He's been there, he's been king of that game. Still is, in some respects. ] Though if you don't count it, you don't get to say second time's the charm.

[ Jim sips his drink, listening to Claude's recount. He shakes his head in disagreement, shifting his body language to something more relaxed - maybe intentionally so, just a little. ] Helping someone in need isn't soft. Even when you have to pay for it, in the end - that's something that's worth paying for. Did the kid get away?

...yeah. Yeah, he did. Zaffy was in the stables just outside, so I told him to grab her and get the hell out of there.

[ If it had all happened outdoors, the ending would have been a very, very different story. Miller's bullets wouldn't have done nearly as much damage to Zafeera's hide, and one well-placed bite from her mighty jaws would have been more than enough to ensure that Miller had died rather than the other way around. Claude is not so altruistic that he doesn't wish that were the case - even if it hadn't been Miller's fault, better him than Claude - but the good part about dying is that you can keep your lips fully sealed and play the willing martyr instead of the curmudgeon who's willing to do whatever it takes to survive.

It's not a view others seem to share. Others - Jim aside, though he won't voice his appreciation for this perspective aloud - seem to see death and their subsequent rebirth as being no big deal, simply a fact of life in a place such as this, and certainly nothing anyone else should linger on. Claude is well-practiced in the art of managing others' expectations. He's been fighting against accusations of weakness his entire life, and knows better than to show weakness now. That doesn't mean he doesn't still feel that sting, though, that comes with the knowledge that acknowledging how monumental this felt to him will do nothing but prove a certain frailty of his spirit, some lack of resilience in his resolve, that something so many here have gone through having any impact on him would make him somehow lesser.

So he shoves it down, even here, accompanied by a sympathetic ear. It's the only thing he can do. His image is everything to him, even if he's sitting alone in an empty room; once he tears down that artifice, he's not sure what would be left. ]

I don't have the luxury of death back home. But here... well, I suppose it matters less here. [ He flashes a grin at Jim. Back home, he probably wouldn't have taken the same actions. But dying here? Even without being brought back to life? His impact on this place is small, at the end of the day. It would sadden certain individuals, but the course of history would keep marching on. It's how most people feel about death, he supposes, though he's not sure he can say the same for the good Captain before him. Jim knows a thing or two about his position being larger than himself, he'd reckon. ]

If you ask around, you'll find out that several people here have died at least once. To monsters, to some madness that overtook them all, to each other... but very rarely do people stay dead here. Even so, I wasn't about to take that chance with the kid. He doesn't even know what happened, afterwards.

[ Claude taps the side of his nose. ]

And I'd appreciate it if it stayed that way.

That's good. I'd consider that a win, in the grand scheme of things.

[ It's about all you could ask for, all you could do when the situation went sideways. Maximize chances of survival, even if you weren't reaping the benefits. Claude knows this - as someone in charge of troops, of course he does, and it's a quality Jim recognizes and admires in him. Making the sacrifice play isn't something that should be taken lightly but sometimes it's the only move. The difference between a check and mate. While it's true that Jim doesn't believe in no win scenarios, it's equally as true that sometimes, the win conditions aren't ideal.

Regardless, Jim can't fathom death being commonplace like that. It was so momentous, so earth-shattering when it happened - and, granted, he had (reasonably) thought it the end for him - it's a little nauseating to think that it could get to such a desensitized place for people. Moreover, what one person might consider to be no big deal didn't define it for the rest; it didn't make Claude's experience any less valid. In fact, admitting to vulnerability is a strength, not a weakness. It took time for Jim to learn that himself, but even so; courage is not the absence of fear, but the ability to act in spite of it. ]

It matters. It always matters. [ Jim shakes his head, offering Claude a reciprocal smile. Pressing, perhaps, but not too hard, he hopes. ] What we do to ourselves, and to others. Whether or not it leaves any lasting damage...our experiences leave scars. It's how we know we're growing.

[ Claude's impact would be wider than he thinks. Trust him, Jim knows. He's lived this. There's no one he's met in Aldrip with a bad word to say about Claude - and hell, Jim knows for sure he'd miss him. Spock, too, even if he'd never say it. ]

Of course. [ Jim wouldn't betray his confidence. Even keeping things from Spock isn't impossible - difficult, sure, but not impossible. And Claude has been kind enough to keep Jim's medical issues to himself, too. ] I had no idea. This is the first I've heard of this place bringing people back like that. It really makes you wonder what we are.

[ Stuck in a simulation? Iterations on iterations? Thank God there's booze. ]

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[ Trek Crew Catch-All ] And you may ask yourself

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THE TEMPORARY THING WAS MY OWN TYPO LOL I meant permanent.... shoves that away

LOL MY B I WASNT SURE