Sixty-Fourth Theory [Action/Voice]

[i_speak_softly]

((First part is backdated to yesterday, November 10.))

[Would it really be so difficult for John's droids to just bring Don home?]

[Apparently, because they instead leave him in a side room of the barracks. On their way out, they drop his journal on the floor, just beyond his reach.]

[He can't feel his legs.]

[He woke up this way on John's table, and while part of his brain tried to assess the situation rationally and offer the mitigating factors that it's just for a week, thank goodness he didn't get this as his death loss, the rest of his brain was screaming too loudly to notice or care.]

[And now he's back in the village, half-paralyzed, still uncertain of his speech, and completely alone.]

[It takes a while, but he pulls himself together, drags himself a few feet across the floor, and painstakingly constructs a filter in the journal.]

Voice to Beast | Unhackable

Help. The barracks. Please...

[He closes the book when he's done. Beast won't get any reply from him through the journals, but will find him prone on the floor of the barracks, just wanting to go home.]



Voice for Everyone, November 11

[By the next day, Don has rediscovered his voice, and wants everyone else to hear it too. Being couchbound, he has nothing better to do than broadcast his every thought over the journal system.]

EVERYONE. Citizens, denizens, residents and inmates of our village of Luceti. Those of you who have just arrived, please find adequate shelter, because this is miserable weather to be out in. You're fortunate, though, to have missed our recent tornado. Also an infestation of ghosts and some messy business involving zombie viruses. Never a dull moment. I advise reading the guide, which can be found in your journal.

Those of you who are already jaded by such events, please entertain yourselves on this dreary day by suggesting a topic of interest: a fascinating subject, an intriguing project, or a hypothetical occurrence that you would find truly surprising. Jokes and stories are also welcome.

[He'll stop there. Finding words is still difficult and tiring, and like exercising any other faculty that hasn't been used in a while, he should take it slowly. Full recovery will come from patient practice, not from exhausting himself all at once.]


((Initial action is locked to Beast. Friends of Don are welcome to handwave hearing of his return and come visit, yesterday afternoon or any time during the week. Today's voice post is open to all.))

Comments

[semper_cogitans]

[Robert doesn't look away. His gaze patiently seeks out Don's.]

Neither am I. I... presumed that this was well-established knowledge.

[i_speak_softly]

[Still determinedly not looking.]

I don't think you know how much my brothers did for us.

[semper_cogitans]

[At this, Robert's expression grows more melancholy.]

... Perhaps not, but... I am g-grateful for it regardless.

And... whatever they would have done... I will try my best. [He can't stress enough how much he'll try.]

[i_speak_softly]

[He rubs the ridge between his eyes. Someday, maybe, they won't have to have conversations like this anymore.]

I can't ask you that.

[semper_cogitans]

[To Robert, it's a strictly pragmatic statement.]

Who can you ask?

[i_speak_softly]

[With a certain degree of anguish:]

I don't know!

[semper_cogitans]

[Robert tries for a calm, reassuring tone, but the anguish in Don's voice has visibly upset him.]

This is why I... am offering to d-do so myself. Or, something. I know I cannot replace them - never could r-replace them - but...

[His shoulders slump just slightly. Is he ever going to truly be enough?]

[i_speak_softly]

[Softly, almost guiltily. He knows it isn't fair to ask Robert to do these things, but the fact remains that someone needs to do them.]

You can't do what they did.

[semper_cogitans]

[Plainly:] No one person here can do what a Terran could do for me. I have... learned to compensate, and you have been quite the assistance in that r-regard, but...

... it is not the same. And I know your brothers are more important than that. I know I am... not the same as them, in... in any way. If it were up to me... you would be with them.

[His tone implies that he would be there too, or so he would want it to be.]

... But... I c-cannot do this. All I can do is... try to give what they did...

[i_speak_softly]

[This hurts to hear. Robert has been alone, in his own way, for the entire time he's been in Luceti. He fell in love with the antithesis of some of his most closely-held beliefs. And he has changed so much, striving to be what that person needed and wanted him to be. How can Don complain, or ask for more?]

[Very, very quietly:] Please don't.

[semper_cogitans]

[Robert wrings his hands, his expression some quiet, pained mixture of emotions. If he can't help you, Don, then who can?]

Don, p-please...

S-Surely I can do something? [Anything, really. He just doesn't want Don to feel the pain he must be feeling.]

[i_speak_softly]

[It takes a minute, but Don regains his composure and answers calmly.]

I don't want to talk about this today. Let's just watch a movie or something.

[semper_cogitans]

[Robert's expression is strained and sad, but - after a moment where he looks like he might object - he just sags a little and nods.]

... a-alright.

[Never mind that this is the last thing he wants to do right now.]

[i_speak_softly]

[If you wanted to talk about something, you should have said so five minutes ago.]

[... Or right now, if you want to impress Don with your assertiveness.]

[semper_cogitans]

[It's more that this situation is worrying him a lot more than he can articulate. Well, that, and the commentary about being bad at relationships is now making him wonder if he feels that way because Robert is bad.

But, he doesn't have the assertiveness to push any of those lines of conversation right now, or even a different one. Besides, it's clear Don doesn't want to talk.

Instead, he gives an uncertain look towards the movies. Did you really want to watch one then, Don?]

[i_speak_softly]

[Mostly he wants anything that will serve as a distraction. If his attention wanders to his legs for more than two seconds, he'll lose it.]

[semper_cogitans]

[Makes sense.

Well, is there a particular movie he likes? Because Robert's going to go over to the shelf.]

... Is there a movie you are... th-thinking of, perhaps...?

[i_speak_softly]

Not really.

[Also, he's still having noticeable trouble with proper nouns. He's not in the mood to try to remember the name of any movie he might think of.]

[semper_cogitans]

[Then it shall be a science documentary.

Robert selects an astronomy one - interstellar objects, with a focus on nebulae and quasars - and puts it in their player. It always gives him an odd nostalgia to do this; it's like a lower-tech version of the years he spent as a child watching holovideos about various science topics.

When he's done, he reseats himself next to Don, close enough to be companionable but not quite touching. He doesn't want to crowd Don.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Don laboriously slides down into a more horizontal position, making himself as comfortable as he can. If he's lucky, he'll fall asleep during the movie.]

[semper_cogitans]

[As much as Robert wants to be in rapt attention, he keeps either wincing at the outdatedness of the science or looking worriedly over at Don every once in awhile. Probably both.

In a way he kind of hopes Don gets some rest too. After the crap that happened today, he needs it.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Something about the way Robert keeps glancing over really bothers him. After a while, he has to say something.]

What?

[semper_cogitans]

... I am worried. [It's a small, simple sentence, but Robert's expression makes it a lot more than that. Worried about what Don said, worried about their future, worried about his health. All sorts of worries.]

[i_speak_softly]

[Don's most obvious response to this is an irritated sigh. Somewhere under that is a sinking feeling, and even further down a sense of being very loved.]

[semper_cogitans]

[Hopefully the sinking feeling is not the most overwhelming of those feelings.

Either way, Robert tries to stop looking at Don, wincing away shamefully. But he's clearly still anxious, and keeps rhythmically wringing his hands.]