Ekkehardt Gehring (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spelleton) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
datadiving2019-03-15 12:09 am
spelleton) wrote in datadiving2019-03-15 12:09 am
[ The pain of being alive, for a given value of alive, is potent and excruciating. It's a mercy that what few fragments of him are still conscious are numb.
It's a miracle he still remembers anything outside of the red-hot jumble of agony his soul has become.
(It fragments and pulses with desperate energy, a fractured web of nerves tangled up inside themselves. Mangled and raw like the patients he had worked on a lifetime ago.)
But he remembers - something of himself, at least. Enough to follow, enough to use his new powers to defend the person he once tried to protect, in some attempt to make up for what he already failed at once, and that is mostly all. He never speaks, unless the shriek of tortured metal and a once-human voice is speaking.
He follows Avery like a macabre shadow, just watching him when there's nothing else to do. The behaviour is a little like a creature that seems to have no concept of object permanence. ]
It's a miracle he still remembers anything outside of the red-hot jumble of agony his soul has become.
(It fragments and pulses with desperate energy, a fractured web of nerves tangled up inside themselves. Mangled and raw like the patients he had worked on a lifetime ago.)
But he remembers - something of himself, at least. Enough to follow, enough to use his new powers to defend the person he once tried to protect, in some attempt to make up for what he already failed at once, and that is mostly all. He never speaks, unless the shriek of tortured metal and a once-human voice is speaking.
He follows Avery like a macabre shadow, just watching him when there's nothing else to do. The behaviour is a little like a creature that seems to have no concept of object permanence. ]
[There are days that Avery can't even bring himself to look at Ekkehardt, at what he's become (off what he's made him to be). He knows he's there, following behind, loyal even in death for a reason he can't even begin to fathom anymore.
Other days he forgets, tries to spark up a conversation, banter like they used to, only to end up disappointed in the end.
Today is somewhere in the middle of the two. Or maybe he's just talking out loud to himself.]
I'm starting to wonder if we should build a fence. Not to keep people out, of course. I just want to see how many people will climb over it anyway!
[Gruesome and terrible as it is, as it always ends up being one way or another, he always fins himself looking forward to the appearance of a wayward traveler. It's a nice little moment of not quite feeling so alone. It's an even better snack.
Any guilt he should feel about the strangers' deaths fell away easily, perhaps too much so. Perhaps even enough to cause concern. Maybe that was just what not being human anymore was all about.]
Not that I know how to make a fence. Can't remember if you ever had to either.
Other days he forgets, tries to spark up a conversation, banter like they used to, only to end up disappointed in the end.
Today is somewhere in the middle of the two. Or maybe he's just talking out loud to himself.]
I'm starting to wonder if we should build a fence. Not to keep people out, of course. I just want to see how many people will climb over it anyway!
[Gruesome and terrible as it is, as it always ends up being one way or another, he always fins himself looking forward to the appearance of a wayward traveler. It's a nice little moment of not quite feeling so alone. It's an even better snack.
Any guilt he should feel about the strangers' deaths fell away easily, perhaps too much so. Perhaps even enough to cause concern. Maybe that was just what not being human anymore was all about.]
Not that I know how to make a fence. Can't remember if you ever had to either.
[ So far, words have fallen into that endless, swirling darkness he seems to be mostly made out of. They're received with nothing but silence or, occasionally, a rare and flickering moment of what could pass for consciousness in a dim light. A tilted head or a stare that doesn't seem as torturously numb as usual.
Death, too, is something that he might have once cared about in the ashes of his former life and self. Now it's simply a matter of protection, or occasionally feeding - and he does seem to be steered by some impulsive hunger, now and then. He doesn't toy with them, he kills quickly - but a life taken is a life taken.
The words seem to have no impact, as usual. But rather than stare uncomprehendingly, as is his usual response, he...
He just slashes a line in the ground, claws dragging along with the unpleasant sound of chains being drawn taut.
He etches a few more lines, vertical ones to go along with horizontal.
It does sort of look like a fence.
It's not really a reply, or an answer, or anything much. But it's activity that doesn't seem to be driven by whatever discarded feeling is roiling inside him today. ]
Death, too, is something that he might have once cared about in the ashes of his former life and self. Now it's simply a matter of protection, or occasionally feeding - and he does seem to be steered by some impulsive hunger, now and then. He doesn't toy with them, he kills quickly - but a life taken is a life taken.
The words seem to have no impact, as usual. But rather than stare uncomprehendingly, as is his usual response, he...
He just slashes a line in the ground, claws dragging along with the unpleasant sound of chains being drawn taut.
He etches a few more lines, vertical ones to go along with horizontal.
It does sort of look like a fence.
It's not really a reply, or an answer, or anything much. But it's activity that doesn't seem to be driven by whatever discarded feeling is roiling inside him today. ]
/uses prince icon because apparently i need to draw a serious surprise one
subconmodo
2019-03-14 02:30 pm (UTC)(link)
[Avery stares down at it, mouth hanging open, and his heart twists and tightens with the faintest shred of hope.]
Yeah.
Yeah, that.
[He sounds like a fool. Very erudite, Avery. Super expressive. Good job.
He eyes Ekkehardt for a moment, then snatches up a somewhat thick branch, breaking it in half over a knee. ]
This is probably too thin to work.
[He sounds almost distracted, playful tone vanished]
Pretty sure the posts are supposed to be more like logs, right?
[He tosses the broken branch up into the air, letting it spin once and catching it. Once. Twice. The third time it hits him in the head.
He curses under his breath, rubbing the spot, an eye trained on Ekkehardt.
He waits--hopes--for dry mockery to follow]
Yeah.
Yeah, that.
[He sounds like a fool. Very erudite, Avery. Super expressive. Good job.
He eyes Ekkehardt for a moment, then snatches up a somewhat thick branch, breaking it in half over a knee. ]
This is probably too thin to work.
[He sounds almost distracted, playful tone vanished]
Pretty sure the posts are supposed to be more like logs, right?
[He tosses the broken branch up into the air, letting it spin once and catching it. Once. Twice. The third time it hits him in the head.
He curses under his breath, rubbing the spot, an eye trained on Ekkehardt.
He waits--hopes--for dry mockery to follow]
[ He's not exactly the same type of being that Avery has become; he's a mixture of his own dying emotions and the result of a contract made. It makes him more perceptive in certain ways, though the haze of pain and torment has hidden it from him until now.
Even that faint spark of hope is enough to wake something else in him.
Normally, cognition is a matter of chance; the swirling chaos inside his form occasionally jolting him from his stasis. The pain is always too much to bear, and it consumes his mind once again.
This time --
-- well, no, it still hurts. Every second is excruciating, even more so when he's conscious enough to really feel it. But he anchors himself by that spark, because it's something he hasn't seen in some time.
(In a way he's always oriented himself by those who shone b̴̸r̸i̧͟g̴̷͡h̨t͡ę̷r͏ ̵ţ҉h̸a̸̧͟n͘͞ ́͟h̢͜im͢ -- but those memories of a time he can't return to are too painful and almost drag him under again.)
He breathes a little, the sound rattling and awful, and tries to focus on what's in front of him. It can't be that hard
"You always say things are easy, Avery."
"Is it really--my fault if--" ]
St--stupid.
[ His voice is rusty and pained; it drags like the chains that wrap his form. But it's there, all the same.
The memories hurt. Every second is painful. But he clings to it anyway. ]
Even that faint spark of hope is enough to wake something else in him.
Normally, cognition is a matter of chance; the swirling chaos inside his form occasionally jolting him from his stasis. The pain is always too much to bear, and it consumes his mind once again.
This time --
-- well, no, it still hurts. Every second is excruciating, even more so when he's conscious enough to really feel it. But he anchors himself by that spark, because it's something he hasn't seen in some time.
(In a way he's always oriented himself by those who shone b̴̸r̸i̧͟g̴̷͡h̨t͡ę̷r͏ ̵ţ҉h̸a̸̧͟n͘͞ ́͟h̢͜im͢ -- but those memories of a time he can't return to are too painful and almost drag him under again.)
He breathes a little, the sound rattling and awful, and tries to focus on what's in front of him. It can't be that hard
"You always say things are easy, Avery."
"Is it really--my fault if--" ]
St--stupid.
[ His voice is rusty and pained; it drags like the chains that wrap his form. But it's there, all the same.
The memories hurt. Every second is painful. But he clings to it anyway. ]
[It's as if the whole world has stopped around him.]
You...
[It worked. He actually...
No. No, he can think about this later. Right now he needs to take this moment of clarity and milk it for all it's worth.]
[Avery stands straight and folds his arms under his tattered cloak, rolling his eyes.]
Oh, sorry. I didn't know I was talking with the world's foremost authority on fences.
You...
[It worked. He actually...
No. No, he can think about this later. Right now he needs to take this moment of clarity and milk it for all it's worth.]
[Avery stands straight and folds his arms under his tattered cloak, rolling his eyes.]
Oh, sorry. I didn't know I was talking with the world's foremost authority on fences.
N-n--
[ He makes another awful sound, frustrated and painful. ]
--nnot. What I meant-tt.
[ For once that stare he's given Avery so many times is focused (struggling to stay focused, pupils growing fever bright and fading again and brightening, cycling in and out) and not blank with agony.
Something like a laugh comes out. Broken and mingled with the sound of straining metal. ]
You. H-hh. Hh-haven't-t. C-changed at all.
[ He makes another awful sound, frustrated and painful. ]
--nnot. What I meant-tt.
[ For once that stare he's given Avery so many times is focused (struggling to stay focused, pupils growing fever bright and fading again and brightening, cycling in and out) and not blank with agony.
Something like a laugh comes out. Broken and mingled with the sound of straining metal. ]
You. H-hh. Hh-haven't-t. C-changed at all.
[Avery grins up at him. He sees that struggle, sees the determination behind those fading, brightening eyes, and it only pushes Avery on.]
I wouldn't say that. I could make myself taller than you now if I wanted to.
I've picked up a few tricks.
I wouldn't say that. I could make myself taller than you now if I wanted to.
I've picked up a few tricks.
I r-rr...r-remember...
[ He does. Somewhere.
Everything is such a blur, but he can pick out certain things; he knows, intrinsically, that Avery is different and not human any more, just as the contract that had transformed him had made something new out of his remains and bound his soul inside.
Perhaps if his death had not been for such a specific reason, he would have resented it, or been angered by it. But he's devoid of the hatred that might usually come with someone who was dragged out of death and into a new, pain-filled existence. ]
...Y..y-you're...t-the same h-hh...height. As you w-were...before.
[ He leans down. There's the impression he might be squinting. ]
[ He does. Somewhere.
Everything is such a blur, but he can pick out certain things; he knows, intrinsically, that Avery is different and not human any more, just as the contract that had transformed him had made something new out of his remains and bound his soul inside.
Perhaps if his death had not been for such a specific reason, he would have resented it, or been angered by it. But he's devoid of the hatred that might usually come with someone who was dragged out of death and into a new, pain-filled existence. ]
...Y..y-you're...t-the same h-hh...height. As you w-were...before.
[ He leans down. There's the impression he might be squinting. ]
[He sees that squint.]
If you make a single short joke, I'm taping a "kick me" sign to that mask of yours.
[He doesn't change, however. Not until he's sure that this is going to stick. Until he's sure this isn't some dream he's having or something else in his life that's about to be ripped away from him.]
If you make a single short joke, I'm taping a "kick me" sign to that mask of yours.
[He doesn't change, however. Not until he's sure that this is going to stick. Until he's sure this isn't some dream he's having or something else in his life that's about to be ripped away from him.]
[ Another rattling laugh. It's a precarious balancing act, but it's getting easier to remember how he was, or how he is, or...something. It's hard to know what or who he is any more. ]
Y-you can...t-try.
[ He withdraws again, but it's clearly to keep his mask out of easy reach, rather than the instinctive keep-away he's played in Avery's shadow all this time. (There had been kind of a shame in how he had slunk away, like he had understood the days when his friend couldn't bear to look at him.) ]
Y-you can...t-try.
[ He withdraws again, but it's clearly to keep his mask out of easy reach, rather than the instinctive keep-away he's played in Avery's shadow all this time. (There had been kind of a shame in how he had slunk away, like he had understood the days when his friend couldn't bear to look at him.) ]
[He glares up at Ekkehardt for a moment longer and then disappears into the earth, a dark blue darting around Ekke and up the trunk of a tree, only for Avery to appear on a branch a little above Ekkehardt's eye level.]
How's this for a try, Stretch? Maybe I'll add a few bows for decoration.
How's this for a try, Stretch? Maybe I'll add a few bows for decoration.
[ Avery burns bright and vivid in his altered vision. His head almost snaps to follow him, a quick and unnatural movement. ]
S-st..ill no s-sign, t-t..though.
I h...h-have a name.
[ If it wasn't for the stuttering and the clear effort he's exerting, he'd almost sound like his old self.
But that last phrase is almost a question; it wavers in a way that his other words have not. It seems to distract him from the present.
(His name, like many other things, is something he has tried and failed many times to grasp. But it's slipped away from him like it's evading him, and so he gave up on it in his exhaustion, and gave up another piece of himself.
Names have power. The power to seal a contract, to complete someone's being, to be the last or first step in someone's creation.
He had been far closer to death, and so a daemon whose face he cannot remember had come to him first; when he refused to say his name, even to save himself, they had laughed.
The thing born out of his remains had his memories and everything that mattered, was a cage for his soul, but he had never given his name and so he had been transformed without his memory of it, as one last trick.) ]
S-st..ill no s-sign, t-t..though.
I h...h-have a name.
[ If it wasn't for the stuttering and the clear effort he's exerting, he'd almost sound like his old self.
But that last phrase is almost a question; it wavers in a way that his other words have not. It seems to distract him from the present.
(His name, like many other things, is something he has tried and failed many times to grasp. But it's slipped away from him like it's evading him, and so he gave up on it in his exhaustion, and gave up another piece of himself.
Names have power. The power to seal a contract, to complete someone's being, to be the last or first step in someone's creation.
He had been far closer to death, and so a daemon whose face he cannot remember had come to him first; when he refused to say his name, even to save himself, they had laughed.
The thing born out of his remains had his memories and everything that mattered, was a cage for his soul, but he had never given his name and so he had been transformed without his memory of it, as one last trick.) ]
[Avery's smile falters.
That wasn't a statement. Not as much as he wanted it to be. He remembers how Ekkehardt never gave a name, remembers how he had taken note and kept it a secret as well. Now there's a part of him that wishes he hadn't. Maybe if he had...]
That so? What was it again...? Tall, dark, and annoying? Nosy? Busybody?
[He laughs, but it's not a genuine one. Not quite.]
Wow, Ekkehardt, you really want to give me that much power here?
Oh! I know! Let's go with... Jerk. Simple, short, and snappy!
That wasn't a statement. Not as much as he wanted it to be. He remembers how Ekkehardt never gave a name, remembers how he had taken note and kept it a secret as well. Now there's a part of him that wishes he hadn't. Maybe if he had...]
That so? What was it again...? Tall, dark, and annoying? Nosy? Busybody?
[He laughs, but it's not a genuine one. Not quite.]
Wow, Ekkehardt, you really want to give me that much power here?
Oh! I know! Let's go with... Jerk. Simple, short, and snappy!
[ He just waits, not responding to any of those names until the one that's his is spoken. His gaze has changed to some strange, unfocused yearning.
Not because being called those things doesn't feel right or familiar (because they feel acerbically, comfortably familiar, feelings from a place he cannot access, because his memories were hidden but his emotions were not), but because one of them is a key to the rest of him. He's not complete without it.
It wouldn't work at any other time before this. He would have torn himself apart in the strain, or irreversibly broken; yet another cruelty, yet another trick. He was brought back, like the contract had asked for, but in fragmented pieces rather than any coherent whole. Forced to assemble himself like an unsolved puzzle.
Compared to all his other changes, painful and slow, this unlocking is so much quicker. He'd been straining to remember who he was before this, to master himself on top of his own agony; everything seems so much clearer now. ]
You remembered all those other ones before my actual name?
[ He's on the branch in an instant, now just as fast, but the second before he actually touches it, he changes, and now he has absolutely no hope of matching Avery's height right now.
It's not exactly the same; he can't be as he was. But it's very similar, and very familiar. ]
I don't know why I expected anything else.
[ Ekkehardt crosses his arms and stares and if not for everything else that's changed, it could almost be something approaching normal. ]
Not because being called those things doesn't feel right or familiar (because they feel acerbically, comfortably familiar, feelings from a place he cannot access, because his memories were hidden but his emotions were not), but because one of them is a key to the rest of him. He's not complete without it.
It wouldn't work at any other time before this. He would have torn himself apart in the strain, or irreversibly broken; yet another cruelty, yet another trick. He was brought back, like the contract had asked for, but in fragmented pieces rather than any coherent whole. Forced to assemble himself like an unsolved puzzle.
Compared to all his other changes, painful and slow, this unlocking is so much quicker. He'd been straining to remember who he was before this, to master himself on top of his own agony; everything seems so much clearer now. ]
You remembered all those other ones before my actual name?
[ He's on the branch in an instant, now just as fast, but the second before he actually touches it, he changes, and now he has absolutely no hope of matching Avery's height right now.
It's not exactly the same; he can't be as he was. But it's very similar, and very familiar. ]
I don't know why I expected anything else.
[ Ekkehardt crosses his arms and stares and if not for everything else that's changed, it could almost be something approaching normal. ]
Edited 2019-03-14 16:43 (UTC)
[There's no reply. Not at first. Avery keeps hiss head turned away, his hands clenched tight astound the worn and dirty fabric of his cloak.]
Heh. Maybe they just seemed to fit better.
[His voice is rough, a crack and a showing of weakness that might have been unacceptable if it weren't for the near-overwhelming tidal wave of relief washing over him.]
... Took you long enough.
Heh. Maybe they just seemed to fit better.
[His voice is rough, a crack and a showing of weakness that might have been unacceptable if it weren't for the near-overwhelming tidal wave of relief washing over him.]
... Took you long enough.
[ It's painful to hear, but in a more normal way than what threatened to tear him completely to pieces. It's not like everything doesn't hurt, but...
He can manage. He'll manage.
He might have said insufferable as ever but it doesn't feel right, so he settles for something else. ]
I will admit I was, perhaps, a little slow.
[ And more hastily, like he's trying not to overcomplicate or overthink the words or make them more formal to suit himself: ]
I'm-- sorry.
He can manage. He'll manage.
He might have said insufferable as ever but it doesn't feel right, so he settles for something else. ]
I will admit I was, perhaps, a little slow.
[ And more hastily, like he's trying not to overcomplicate or overthink the words or make them more formal to suit himself: ]
I'm-- sorry.
[And now he had the gall to make him feel guilty. Avery reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, then leans back to hang upside down from the branch by his knees, arms stretched out toward the ground.]
Don't be. It's not like it was actually your fault. And... you were still there, I guess. Making sure no one who wandered in here got too high and mighty.
[keeping watch as he always did.]
Don't be. It's not like it was actually your fault. And... you were still there, I guess. Making sure no one who wandered in here got too high and mighty.
[keeping watch as he always did.]
Considering I was terrible company, it was the least I could do for you.
[ The words are too heavy, maybe - but they come out before he can stop them, because Avery isn't the only one who feels guilty.
He could try to laugh it off, but he's never quite had the talent for it. Too serious, too straightlaced in his own way - though he'd gone along with Avery's bad ideas more than once, even if it was just to keep him out of trouble, because he was one of the two people in his life that could have ever convinced him to do things that nobody else could get away with.
But those days are gone and past and all of them have changed too much to ever go back.
He sits, and doesn't look at him. ]
[ The words are too heavy, maybe - but they come out before he can stop them, because Avery isn't the only one who feels guilty.
He could try to laugh it off, but he's never quite had the talent for it. Too serious, too straightlaced in his own way - though he'd gone along with Avery's bad ideas more than once, even if it was just to keep him out of trouble, because he was one of the two people in his life that could have ever convinced him to do things that nobody else could get away with.
But those days are gone and past and all of them have changed too much to ever go back.
He sits, and doesn't look at him. ]
Yeah, you kind of were.
[It seems harsh, even to him, and so Avery frowns and continues on.]
You didn't even react when I gave you pigtails that one time.
[Whether or not he really did so and when, he's not telling.]
[It seems harsh, even to him, and so Avery frowns and continues on.]
You didn't even react when I gave you pigtails that one time.
[Whether or not he really did so and when, he's not telling.]
[ That gets a little self-deprecating laugh. I know, it seems to say.
He remembers everything past his revival as a jumbled mess of light and sound, but sorrow and guilt; that had been clear. He hadn't been entirely clear whether it was his own, or Avery's, and that told a story all by itself. ]
Surely you had better things to stave off your boredom. [ His voice is a bit dry (even if he has to force it). Pigtails, really? ]
He remembers everything past his revival as a jumbled mess of light and sound, but sorrow and guilt; that had been clear. He hadn't been entirely clear whether it was his own, or Avery's, and that told a story all by itself. ]
Surely you had better things to stave off your boredom. [ His voice is a bit dry (even if he has to force it). Pigtails, really? ]
[He swings back and forth for a moment, and then his body flows like water, melting into shadow and twisting around the branch until he's back in a sitting position.]
Probably. But I wanted to see if you still looked creepy with them. Turns out the answer was yes.
[He snickers]
It was still pretty funny.
Probably. But I wanted to see if you still looked creepy with them. Turns out the answer was yes.
[He snickers]
It was still pretty funny.
[ He watches, red light flaring in the eyesockets of his mask in clear curiosity. There are many things he missed, it seems.
(It had been a party trick, something he did for effect or for his own amusement, when he was alive. For scaring people, because he wasn't above that.
It's part of him, now. He doesn't know what to think.) ]
Well, at least your sense of humor hasn't changed. Still as questionable as ever.
[ He can't quite keep the fondness out of his voice, though. ]
(It had been a party trick, something he did for effect or for his own amusement, when he was alive. For scaring people, because he wasn't above that.
It's part of him, now. He doesn't know what to think.) ]
Well, at least your sense of humor hasn't changed. Still as questionable as ever.
[ He can't quite keep the fondness out of his voice, though. ]
[Of course it was. Now more than ever. After everything has changed, after the world's been turned upside down, when the woman he loved (loves?) most has ripped his and Ekkehardt's life to tiny little pieces, something in his life needs to remain the same.
And maybe if he jokes enough it'll become a little less real, a little less painful. Something normal, background noise in this strange, new existence.]
And what about you? Coming out of your silence after all these years to call me stupid?
[There's clear, genuine amusement there. Honestly, he couldn't think of anything more fitting.]
You're just as uptight as I am hilarious.
And maybe if he jokes enough it'll become a little less real, a little less painful. Something normal, background noise in this strange, new existence.]
And what about you? Coming out of your silence after all these years to call me stupid?
[There's clear, genuine amusement there. Honestly, he couldn't think of anything more fitting.]
You're just as uptight as I am hilarious.
[ Time was something he was unable to grasp, when he was in the grip of his own pain; he doesn't know how long it's been since he died. All these years, his friend says, and the shock (somewhere between surprise and horror) shows on his face before he can stop it.
(He'd already suspected, but it's one thing to suspect and another thing to confirm it.)
Since they're already pretending anyway, he speaks normally and pretends it didn't happen. ]
What else was I supposed to call you, hmm?
I can't very well call you a genius for hitting yourself on the head. That would just be rewarding you for idiotic behaviour.
[ Like he hasn't technically rewarded him already..... ]
(He'd already suspected, but it's one thing to suspect and another thing to confirm it.)
Since they're already pretending anyway, he speaks normally and pretends it didn't happen. ]
What else was I supposed to call you, hmm?
I can't very well call you a genius for hitting yourself on the head. That would just be rewarding you for idiotic behaviour.
[ Like he hasn't technically rewarded him already..... ]
Page 1 of 8