deercountry | (no subject)

Few people would think that the end of the world was easy, surviving it or not, coming back from it or not. Sacrifice is in and of itself a word that implies hardship. Despite those logical reasons, Martin's words ring more personal than that. More true than that. It's not a club Duty wants to welcome people into, but he's long known his world's experiences are not fully unique.

"No," Duty says, voice softer. "It never is."

He's not a touchy person, but Duty lifts one hand to rest on Martin's shoulder. The omen is not there to imply intent to squash. It's a measure of understanding and support. In the dark, two men alone but observed, as ever in Gaze.

The weight of the hand on Martin's shoulder is an appreciated comfort and show of support, and a solid reminder that even here, he's still connected to others, and the world around him. The little spider, still perched on his opposite shoulder, peers around behind his back at Duty, quiet and contemplative.

Martin swallows; unsure he really wants the story, but he still feels like it's important to ask, to see maybe just how much they have in common. "How, uh, how did it end for you? You don't have to answer. If you don't want to."

It's ironic Duty may have learned as much about how he died the first time from someone born a myriad later as from anyone there at the time. "Fire, fear, rage," Duty answers. Does it matter that the fire came from nuclear bombs? Not much. Only that it was quick.

"You?" he asks in turn. Whatever a good end may be, he doubts either of them saw it.

"Uh, fear," Martin answers, taking a deep breath. "All kinds of fear. And bending of reality. It's, uh, well. It was the kind of thing that gets kind of hard to describe?"

It's less that it's difficult to describe, and more that he'd rather not go too deep into the details, and the memories. Not here, and not right now, at least. It's easier to focus on their survival, and that they, as far as he can tell anyway, managed to put a stop to it.

"I think it's okay now, though. At home, I mean. I think we stopped it. I think that's why we're here."

Duty raises an eyebrow slightly. He doesn't doubt that it was fear, nor that it bent reality. Hard to describe, however, feels like a term coming in sideways. It's hard because Martin doesn't want to do it. Or— it's hard because he just got the memories back. Or— it's hard because Martin doesn't trust Duty. Or—

You get the idea.

Duty hasn't forgotten the little spider omen, but he lets this question drop. He gives a nod, though stopping anything, a good end, has nothing to do with why he's here, save to build toward a good end for Trench in Trench. "That's good," Duty says. "This world needs help too."

The spider doesn't have the same reservations Martin has about sharing what happened at home, so she crawls across the back of his neck, closer to where Duty's hand rests on his shoulder. "It isn't always easy to talk about these sorts of things," she supplies. "The memories are new - or they feel new, and they truly are awful. As, of course, one ought to expect from such things."

He isn't sure how he feels about his Omen weighing in, but at least she's trying to be helpful. It's still odd, though, like another part of him is speaking up on his behalf, but independently. Still, he nods.

"Yeah, I've kind of gotten that impression so far," he answers. "We'll try to help as much as we can."

As is so common in Trench, Martin's omen acts on its own, a sign of a person divided within. The omen acts with the freedom or degree of separation or permission someone does not feel themselves. A level of deniability. It's the omen, not them.

If Martin needs his omen to speak for him, that is fine. It's hard, when first getting memories back, to speak of them. Duty knows that. A nod recognizes the spider omen's words. No need to draw out and emphasize the pain in those memories.

"There are many ways to help this world," Duty comments, "How are you inclined to help?" There's no wrong answer. Trench needs help more ways than any one person could give. Let everyone help as best they can, and they will accomplish more together.

How can he help? He's not entirely sure, not just yet, at least. Everything still feels far too fresh and new. He rubs a hand across his forehead as he considers the question.

"I don't know. I was a researcher at home. I guess it's probably best to stick with what I know?" Does Trench need people who can research the things that happen here? Maybe? Probably? Gaze feels very much aligned with Beholding, and there's more than one entity - Pthmuerian, whatever, here dedicated to knowledge. "I'll help however I can, really."

"There's many ways," he says, calm and sure of himself, "Knowledge matters." He motions toward whence they came. He dispatched the draugr easily because he knows precisely what to do.

That's not all, however. "Self-awareness, self-care," Duty says, "are serious business." Taking time to eat a fresh cooked meal, to bathe, to meditate, to enjoy a drink with a friend, it all can help.

Martin nods at the affirmation that yes, knowledge is important. It makes sense. You need to know what you're facing to be able to defeat it. His main focus since his arrival has been on helping Jon, but realistically, given this is the type of threat he suspects they'll see more of, it's probably time to expand a little.

At the mention of self-care also being important, a small chuckle escapes him. He's far better at looking after others than himself, and it's the sort of thing he would get after Jon for. The irony is not lost on him. "Yeah. I think I've heard that. The corruption thing, right?"

Duty nods. Corruption. It's a hell of a way to live, but it's one way to force people to take better care of themselves. Larger consequences.

"Lots of options," Duty says, "Nightwalkers are the pros." Literally, it's their job. They come in every form one can think of and then some. Oh, they're not all for everyone. No one could be.

"Even this," he motions between them. A simple conversation between strangers. Duty's corruption levels are fairly high, even if they aren't visible. He feels the paranoid watchfulness around someone he doesn't know, unable to be disarmed by how seemingly harmless he is. That's one way to end up dead. Appropriate wariness and unwarranted thoughts mingle together, making it harder to tell the difference.

There's something about going to nightwalkers to keep away corruption that makes Martin feel a little uncomfortable. It's not easy to open up to a complete stranger, even if they're supposed to be professionals. More than likely, he's going to rely on the people he knows, and trusts. Like Jon.

"Yeah. There's, uh, other ways too, aren't there? Incense, and some kinds of mushrooms, and whatnot. I think I remember reading something about that before." It doesn't feel completely clear yet, but it's been a long, overwhelming few weeks, so perhaps that can't be blamed entirely on the draugr.

"I'm Martin, by the way," he offers finally by way of an introduction.

Duty nods. He doesn't go to strangers either, but meditation and time at Sanctuary are in his daily routine. Most of the time, that alone is enough. Incense and mushrooms are good in a pinch, but they aren't always on hand. Handling it himself is ideal. Next comes moments like these. "Even this," Duty motions between them.

He notices because his levels were so high when they started talking. Consequence of dealing with the draugr.

"I'm Duty," he says, using the extra word to ensure it's clear Duty is his name. People have all kinds of norms. For some, his name strikes them as odd.

"Nice to meet you," Martin answers with a nod. He doesn't judge the name. People call their kids all kinds of strange things, and really, it says a lot more about the parents than the child. Besides, Duty's from who knows where, and maybe it's a perfectly regular name from there. Or a nickname.

He scuffs his bare feet on the concrete under the bench. He's cold. He's tired. If Jon's awake, he'll probably be worried, but Martin is hopeful he may still be asleep. "I should probably go home. But thank you. For helping me."

Duty inclines his head in agreement. He's glad their paths crossed. In a city like Trench they likely will again.

"You're welcome," Duty says, "I'm around, if you need me."

With that, he gets up to leave, so the energy burst of the battle carries him home without passing out.

(no subject)

no subject

no subject

CW: references to manmade apocalypse

CW: Apocalyptic discussion continues

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject