expiationlogs | open 🌌 crime of the day: overworking

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open 🌌 crime of the day: overworking

Who: Altius & you??
Where: clinic; residential district ruins; network; around the city generally
When: immediately after the March event into early April
What: In the wake of monsters, Altius attempts to deal with the consequences.
Warnings: suicidal ideation

⬬ when you lose your self esteem | recovery; mid-late March

[The shade isolates himself as the Black Beast is destroyed—though by that point the wisps of shadow that trail behind him and disappear reveal enough of the man that it would have been obvious, had anyone been there to see him, that the wish to be nothing was losing its hold on him. As the transformation finally fades, Zekarion collapses, burns from light scattered across his body with the most severe of them spreading across his back.

Eventually, someone finds him. After that, he spends nearly a day unconscious.]

A [When he wakes in the clinic it's with panic. A shuddering gasp marks his return to consciousness, and he pays no attention to his injuries as he grasps at his head desperately, as if to make sure it's still there. Amber eyes wide, his sharp gaze darts then to where his mostly-ruined belongings sit on the other side of the room—then, finally, to whoever might be there in the room with him.]

B [Altius politely but firmly declines staying in the clinic more than absolutely necessary, given the circumstances—meaning he isn't there more than a day after waking. Though his burns are unpleasant even after some magical healing, eventually he gets around to convincing whoever might want to keep him there that he's capable of taking care of himself, promising to update anyone concerned about the matter. Really, the thing he ends up more willingly waiting for is a change of clothes—though it's not from his own wardrobe that he ends up dressed. After that, he's taking stock of his salvageable inventory—onyx tie clip, small pouch, wallet and partly-singed notebook—as he prepares to get going.]

⬬ that's when love dies | ruins; mid-late to late March

A [His obvious immediate first stop is... what used to be his house. Or it would have been, had the destruction not been clear two blocks away from it, debris from the collapsed buildings scattered as if from some sort of explosion. His steps slow to a stop before he takes it all in, then—

He laughs. Three seconds of the helpless sound; three seconds of silence as all the energy of it leaves him. His shoulders only sink so far, as if he's holding himself in place, and he only allows himself a brief moment of stillness before he prepares to step through the rubble.]

B [Later, when he's less obviously a mess and more put together, he comes back to continue salvaging what he can. He does more than look through his own home, though; if he happens to spot anyone else also sorting through the destruction, wherever it might be, he's more likely than not to step forward and lend a hand.

And sometimes, in other parts of the city where Altius isn't, a small number of black creatures made of crystal help with the work—though not possessed of any great magic and only rising to most people's waists, their giant jaws of sharp points are good for breaking through debris and making it easier to move.]

⬬ you look like you're bluffing | network, un: altius; end of March

I'm looking into building a new agricultural and general garden space within the city for the Chosen. I have little experience with cultivating plants, so I'm interested in speaking to anyone willing to contribute their expertise or effort. I'll compensate you appropriately.

[It's short and to the point. He doesn't think he needs to explain why.]

⬬ tell me, is it death, you feel | erasure; early April

[Before now, it would have been invisible. But sometimes, as the days go on, he slips.

When will this be over? — I don't want to be here. — What good is any of this doing?

As he thinks this, shadow overtakes whatever he has his hand on—a door, a set of documents, a box, a slab of broken bricks—and before he can register it as much more than a change of color, it disappears entirely, disintegrated into nothing.

Altius freezes. His expression blanks, the only thing remaining there intensity. The tremor in his posture might speak to the internal battle for control that he's waging over himself.]

⬬ that will bring you peace of life? | wildcard

[Altius contacts those he works with in order to check up on them specifically, and those who answered his call for volunteers to compensate them as promised. As for those the shade encountered... he's slightly less direct, seeking them out physically in what he thinks to be their general haunts to test if they're even amenable to his approach. With his home destroyed and the city in some disarray, there's no real guarantee of stopping by somewhere and seeing him.

He may have seemed to have an impressive work ethic before, but at this stage it wouldn't be mistaken to consider his constant movement unhealthy. Even to those who didn't speak to him as a shadow, it's clear that something is off about him, a stiffness in his demeanor, especially after his discovery of his new ability—when he stops openly gesturing and offering the physical reassurance he usually does, and pointedly keeps hands to himself.

ooc: Anything else? Hit me up at

lumieresdedragon or PWM!]

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[The pause before his answer isn't out of any real intent to avoid the question or reply dishonestly—even if his preference might be in that direction. It's simply to quash down every flicker of panic that threatens to arise, locking them solidly under his will as his gaze momentarily seems to look through Dante to—somewhere else.

It's a simple question. He only has to answer it. His focus returns and his tone is flat, obviously forced into evenness.]

It hasn't. [He takes a silent breath.] Not since I was changed.

[That's... certainly some sort of reaction. They cross their arms, head tilting, words accompanied by a slow and rhythmic ticking.]

< So it's something new. >

[He can only do so much, unfortunately, about the way his pulse is racing again, or how his mouth has gone dry. Nevertheless, he holds himself straight, refusing to turn away like a coward, hands clenched in his pockets.]

Yes.

[In a moment, he may recall that others have also been granted odd powers in this place, that it may not necessarily mean he's not his solid, true self. For now it's all he can do to focus on those steady ticks. He times his breathing with them. In... out.

He's fine.]

I don't know what triggered it.

[...Yeah. That's a reaction. Something subtle, but there. He's not usually this stiff or short--and for reasons that aren't very hard to guess.]

< Maybe it's because you managed to come out the other side? It's not unheard of... >

[Not that they can go into much detail.

A pause, and an insistence.]

< And you did make it through. >

[There's a moment where something else comes through—a slight widening of his eyes, a flutter of a blink. The tension in his posture momentarily lessens.

But the gratitude he feels has to be tightly reined in, too, lest the rest of everything follow it, and he remains stiff, for the most part. Still, it... helps, to hear his internal convictions repeated by another. By Dante.

It feels less like he'll fall apart if he doesn't use every bit of his strength to prevent it. This time, when he takes in a breath, he lets it out as an audible sigh. So what, is this his reward?]

As if I hadn't done enough damage. [Sarcasm may not be the most genuine of expressions, but perhaps that's what makes it easier to allow.]

< At least you weren't the only one? >

[Between so much of the city being destroyed and the chaos of that time... Yeah. There's no way Altius wasn't the only one who had to deal with all of that.]

< But don't worry. You'll get the hang of it. >

[They're sure of that. He's been reliable so far, and for the things he has trouble with alone, they'll be here to help.]

[He thinks of Fauna, who willfully left on her own and caused him so much trouble as a result, and is momentarily aggravated—but the idea isn't entirely without a comforting aspect, as much as he obsesses over the idea of being in control. A noise of reluctant agreement leaves his throat.

The furrow in his brow loosens just a touch as he answers,]

I'll have to eventually. [Rather than hopeful, it sounds grimly determined—but it's nevertheless a determination. Speaking of damage, though...]

Was your office affected at all? [Office, home. He supposes it's somewhat lucky he didn't try to go there looking for Dante and leave the building with holes himself. He might have, if he hadn't found them before that.]

[Tock.]

< Uh... Well... >

[That reaction probably answers the question on its own.]

[Ah... oh, no... The sympathy in his deeper frown is clear—though perhaps it would be more apt to call it empathy, in this particular case.]

How bad...?

< Well, I found the binder I store my cards in. And a chair. >

The smallest of blessings...

[More sarcasm, if a bit more strained. It's an eternally useful tool.]

Where are you staying now? Is there anything I can do for you?

< Where I can, mostly. So, uhm, if you've got anywhere comfortable in mind I'd take you up on that offer. A bed's optional even, since I don't need to sleep and all. >

< ...Aside from that one time. >

[He knows immediately what Dante means, of course; the reply comes without any puzzling over it. How could he forget them and that door?]

The dreaming. [As an idle remark he adds,] Another friend of mine who doesn't sleep didn't avoid it, either.

[He's almost inclined to ask them, too, what it's like—but he already almost knows at this point. He's not allowed himself much rest and what little he has allowed has been disrupted, although most of the physical indications of it that might have arisen he's erased with his healing magic.]

I'll talk to Richard and we can set you up with a room at the inn, if that sounds reasonable. [Even if Richard didn't plan to waive the cost—unknown to Altius currently—he'd gladly pay for Dante to stay there as long as they like.

... He would offer his own house if he still had it, but.]

< Guess that's a simulation for you. If they really want to, they can just make you do what they want, even if it isn't normally possible. >

[Which is an unsettling thought, the more they think on it. So they decide not to pursue that thought any further.]

< But I'd appreciate it. I should be able to pay you back here and there, at least for a little while. ...The way things are going lately, work hasn't been as steady. >

That does seem to be the case.

[Unsettling is putting it lightly. Zekarion has been on edge practically since he got here over precisely that concept. Given the loss of control, it might be a miracle that the damage he caused wasn't much worse... Will there come a day where he himself is the catalyst for Aldrip's woes? He lets out a silent sigh.]

Don't concern yourself with that. [It's a gentle rejection, though; if Dante really feels as if they must, he won't refuse. But he pauses for a moment, considering.]

You know... I did lose a manager, recently. If you're interested in a change.

[Their flame flickers for a moment as if blown by the wind]

< Wait. Huh? Uhm, not that I'm not interested, but... A manager of what? >

[A shrug.]

< You've... kinda got a few things going on right now. >

[And they're still reeling from being offered a job out of the blue]

[With a faint chuckle:]

Sorry—you're right. I was referring to my medical company, but I'll certainly need new help for my next venture, as well. I wanted to set up another space to help grow food within the city, since we seem to get cut off from the outside at times. I'd welcome you wherever you'd be inclined.

[First medical, now food. Sure brings up a few unpleasant memories...

At least Altius sees them as a person, rather than as an ambulatory clock to throw thoughts at.

Still.]

< I'll give it some thought. Again, not that I'm not interested. It's just that if I'm gonna help out, I want to make sure I'm actually useful. >

< Most of my experience is with combat and strategy, after all, and I can't see that being much help unless all your plants suddenly come to life and start attacking people. >

[Ha, he breathes. Hopefully that won't be happening. Don't speak it into existence, please, Dante.]

Hm, well...

[Altius himself has considered in the past how he's utilized the skills he gained in his role as the leader of his own team through his much more mundane career. Certainly, the specifics may not carry over, but perhaps he can give them something to consider?]

Strategy is really just about understanding the strengths and weaknesses of your people and resources, versus the problems you're facing, isn't it? I think it's more widely applicable than you realize.

< That's... true. >

[Hm...]

< I guess I could give it a try. I'll have to start paying my own way at some point. >

[As much as they appreciate Altius's kindness, they can't live off of it forever.]

[The smile he gives them is tired but nevertheless sincere.]

Wonderful. I'll let you know when I have a few more details sorted, and we can formalize things then. A few days, I hope.

[But the adrenaline from earlier has worn off completely now, and he looks down at his watch, whose leather band has turned black in spots along one edge. With a faint sigh, he continues.]

I should get out of your—fire, and let you get back to what you were doing, I suppose.

[They should probably be more annoyed that he put it that way, but considering they do the same thing...]

< Mn, I'll probably just take a break the rest of the day. I've gotta start studying all over again tomorrow, after all. >

< And, um, thanks. >

[What's he supposed to do, refer to their nonexistent hair?? He's trying to appreciate them as they are :(]

Of course, Dante. I'm glad to help. I hope you can get some rest.

[Far be it from him to encourage them to overwork themselves. But as much as his instinct is to give them an appreciative pat on the shoulder as a way to mark their parting, he stops himself by stiffening for a moment and simply returns his hands to his pockets before turning to go.]

Until next time.

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open 🌌 crime of the day: overworking

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