Jay Merrick (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
deadeyedchild) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
applesaucedream2015-06-29 02:12 am
deadeyedchild) wrote in applesaucedream2015-06-29 02:12 am
Ark Awaits [open to multiple]
He is awake.
He doesn't have a body, and he remembers dying - again - he remembers slipping out, Tim unable to keep him there in spite of his hardened insistence that he wasn't going to let it happen, he remembers all of that, but he can't account for himself now. All he knows is he's awake.
Jay clings to that awareness as hard as he can. He doesn't know where he is, if it's a where at all, if he's alive or if this is just the suspension of afterlife, but he's still conscious, he's still him. Formless and adrift in the void. No arms to reach, no hands to grasp, but he tries, tries to stretch out fingers and hold onto something, even if it's just the continued knowledge of self, of me, Jay, I am Jay Merrick, and no one is going to miss me.
Even as an abstraction he can't escape his bent toward bleak self-deprecation.
There's something pulling at him - or maybe he's the one pulling, hauling himself into a defined space, someone else's space, still abstract, but not formless. He knows this sensation. A dream. He's dreaming. Or someone else is dreaming. He's just a stowaway.
Easier to hold a shape in a dream, though, and it doesn't take long before the memory of a body fills in the gaps, and there he is again, eyes that see, senses more or less intact - looking down at his arms, his hands, his legs and feet. Hand over his face and through his hair. All here. One piece.
He looks up, focus drawn naturally to the dreamer.
[Jay is free-falling through the dreaming, and if you want, he can get scooped up into your dream! The 21st is the current IG date at the time of post, but feel free to date your entry later as that changes. Will add a closing date at some point, when I have that figured out.]
He doesn't have a body, and he remembers dying - again - he remembers slipping out, Tim unable to keep him there in spite of his hardened insistence that he wasn't going to let it happen, he remembers all of that, but he can't account for himself now. All he knows is he's awake.
Jay clings to that awareness as hard as he can. He doesn't know where he is, if it's a where at all, if he's alive or if this is just the suspension of afterlife, but he's still conscious, he's still him. Formless and adrift in the void. No arms to reach, no hands to grasp, but he tries, tries to stretch out fingers and hold onto something, even if it's just the continued knowledge of self, of me, Jay, I am Jay Merrick, and no one is going to miss me.
Even as an abstraction he can't escape his bent toward bleak self-deprecation.
There's something pulling at him - or maybe he's the one pulling, hauling himself into a defined space, someone else's space, still abstract, but not formless. He knows this sensation. A dream. He's dreaming. Or someone else is dreaming. He's just a stowaway.
Easier to hold a shape in a dream, though, and it doesn't take long before the memory of a body fills in the gaps, and there he is again, eyes that see, senses more or less intact - looking down at his arms, his hands, his legs and feet. Hand over his face and through his hair. All here. One piece.
He looks up, focus drawn naturally to the dreamer.
[Jay is free-falling through the dreaming, and if you want, he can get scooped up into your dream! The 21st is the current IG date at the time of post, but feel free to date your entry later as that changes. Will add a closing date at some point, when I have that figured out.]
no subject
"My failures got people killed," he says bitterly. "And they still could."
no subject
The word sticks in this throat.
Worth is utterly subjective, even in the eyes of the universe.
To be deserving of Ascension is to have that clarity of sight and mind and soul, ontology of the concept be damned.
"And that doesn't mean you're not deserving of a second chance," he adds gently.
no subject
He nods slightly.
"What am I supposed to do now?" he murmurs.
no subject
"Figure a way back," he says easily, as if the interconversion of energy to matter postmortem is a skillset readily accessible to the masses. "I don't think you've Ascended - you don't have the same energy." He watches the other man thoughtfully, inclining his head. "But I don't think you're beyond return, either."
no subject
"I can't," he says softly. "I can't do that to Tim."
Die, come back, die, come back. It's not a pattern he wants to establish, for Tim's sake if no one else's (and when has he ever done anything for Tim's sake? maybe it's not too late to start).
no subject
At least Daniel, being Ascended, can access some of the world and communicate, even if it's on something of a reduced level compared to what he's accustomed to. But Jay is simply drifting, unmoored, and it's a depressingly unattached existence that he seems to think would be better for all parties involved.
"I can find him," he offers dubiously, "if you want. I can - locate people, talk to them. In Manhattan."
no subject
No one does. No one understands what they've been through. He was all Tim had, and he left him behind, once, twice, finally and permanently, except not.
"I don't know," he moans, covering his face back up. "I don't know what to do. It's too much of a mess."
no subject
"You can't stay here," he says, his tone reasonable. "From any standpoint, that's just not sustainable. There's a solution out of this mess - out of any mess."
tw more lateral suicide ideation
He needs something to say, something that isn't about him and his problems. He glances up at Daniel, trying to assess how readily he'll talk about himself. He seems weirdly neutral on all things, so maybe it won't matter.
"How'd you die?" he asks.
no subject
"The Rift," he says easily, the what else? readily implied. "I'm getting it was a day when pretty much everything went haywire - the Rift, uh," he gestures loosely at his chest region, "hit me."
no subject
At least his death had some kind of intent behind it. And it was long overdue.
The implied randomness of Daniel's death makes his heart sink a little. What if this wasn't on purpose, what if it was just a weird accident? What if the rift is killing people off now? What if Tim isn't nearly as better off as he's hoping?
Why can't anything ever just be okay?
no subject
"It likes - experimenting with us." His mouth twists with distaste. "Putting us in dire situations to see what we do. I don't think - well, if it wanted to really kill you, it - "
He makes an abortive gesture with one hand in the absence of wanting to verbally complete that sentence. It's not exactly moving in a comforting direction.
no subject
He huffs out a breath and goes quiet. He feels like he's ranting now, just babbling to fill the space. He doesn't want to talk to this guy anymore, he's so goddamn nice and reasonable and wise, it makes him feel small and stupid. He is small and stupid. He's not interesting. There's nothing here to see, just bones to play with.
no subject
He wishes he could offer more information, or at least something comforting in the way of finding a solution to their very present joint problem.
"I can help you, maybe," says Daniel, tone low and apologetic. "Once I figure out how to descend, it's possible I can - do the same for you."
no subject
No sense arguing. Won't get him anywhere. He doubts, if it came down to it, that Daniel would force him to 'descend'.
He looks around the room, hugging himself a little, starting to feel antsy. "I feel like it's gonna pull me out again," he says softly. "I don't think I can... stay anywhere, I think it'll just... shuffle me around for a while."
Eyes back on Daniel. He feels unsteady. Should he say something before it takes him out? "I'll - I'll see you around, maybe," he murmurs.
no subject
There's no burgeoning wonder, no event horizon of hope nestled in the sentiment. Just loss, virtually endless. Doubt, anxiety, fracturing into different end points whose trajectories he can trace in all their infinite potential but never know, never really know the true pathway of.
Then again, truth is always relative. He supposes he would know.
I don't know.
"I'll be around," he says with a small, tight smile. "If you need anything - anything at all."
no subject
Jay doesn't know, so he doesn't reply more than a very slight nod. And it's just as well, because that's all he has time for before he's dragged out. Daniel's room and Daniel himself disintegrate around him, and he disintegrates, unraveling, back into formlessness, nothingness. Still conscious, floating and lost.
The only thing to think, before he gets pulled in somewhere else, is at least I'm not the only one.