singillatim | Part Two: The Detective

He tilts his head in a slight shrug. "It's... difficult to say how much these beings understand humanity as a concept whatsoever. Yours because it's- very clearly animalistic, o-or at least underdeveloped, but John was..." His mouth presses for a moment. "He existed in a form that lived outside of humanity for so long, on such a different scale of understanding, that- most of our time is me teaching him what being human even means."

He sighs as he sits up a little more, trying to relax. "That understanding I have of him and his kind actually informs a lot of my understanding of the Darkwalker, or what little I do have on it. Something that- sees us as no different to the leaves on trees, or the way we would perceive an anthill. It exists, certainly - but what does it matter, in our personal understanding of the universe, of our own grand schemes and desires, o-our fates if you want to get theological." He swallows lightly. "John had to learn that. Morality, emotions, for better or worse. And it seems like your- parasite, as well-" though the word tastes bad in his mouth, the edge of a grimace following it. "It's at least making attempts to look after your well being, if only by proxy to its own."

Such things almost breach into.... something god-like, perhaps, or at least — otherworldly. It's difficult for Konstantin, being who and what he is, to wrap his head around it — but he does accept it as reality, even if it's one that belongs to another world. Clearly, such things really do exist.

Whereas his own situation may be unprecedented, but it's still.. something that humans can explain. Alien life is simply life beyond Earth, but it's still.. corporeal, it can be studied and examined.

He nods as he listens, paying attention, though there's a slight wince at the word theological, the concept of fate; it's an unpleasant taste in his own throat.

"I'm sorry you had to witness it for yourself. It sounds like you've had more than your share of.... strange, frightening things." A soft, humourless sound. This is all pretty damn horrific, even if he'd established some sort of peace with the entity sharing his body, the thing that took his sight. Konstantin's disturbed by the thought of all of it.

"It's fortunate it didn't try to attack you. It's intelligent, and unfeeling. No morality, no emotions, it's— ....It's a monster." The words come out darker than he usually lets his tone grow, and with a little shudder at the corners. He can't let himself feel empathy for this grotesque, violent thing that keeps him full of blood. If he could rip it out of himself right now, he would.

Monster.

Despite himself, his own jaw tightens. Still empathy, because God if he doesn't understand Konstantin's situation from extremely personal experience - but sympathy too. For the creature itself.

How many times had he used the word on John, how many times had John made efforts to push past it, to be more than that, than a parasite? Fuck, even through Yellow, he knows what it's like to be denied that chance and fall on old habits and harmful ways.

He's silent, as he processes that for a few seconds. Then a deep breath, bracing himself for what he can only expect will be a bitter rebuttal. "I don't believe that. About your creature. I can't."

The response draws Konstantin into silence for a few long moments, too. There's a kneejerk flicker of irritation, but one he swallows back, at least for the moment. This man doesn't deserve his anger, and it wouldn't truly be aimed at him, anyway. Instead, he pushes that emotion towards confusion, turning his head to face the other, studying him seriously, curiously.

"You've seen it for yourself. How... grotesque it is. What it does to people. Its existence is only possible by feeding from living things. Surely even you must see it as something monstrous."

It's not like his John Doe. It lives only for itself, uses him as its nest.

Faust is still too raw in his heart, the memory too nauseating to bring that up. To tempt the possibility of Konstantin asking a question Arthur can't bring himself to answer.

Instead, he folds his hands again, projecting steadiness and calm. "I won't pretend that its preferred choice of- of meal isn't..." But his voice is tight, still, when he continues: "Distressing. But from its perspective, it's no different to- to a vulture eating a lion, I suppose. And morality is- that's an entirely human construction, one it's not- reasonable, o-or perhaps even fair to assign to something so outside of that."

Now the harder sell: "As for emotions, it certainly feels fear, in watching me try to take away its shelter. I saw it exhibit..." He waves a hand vaguely. "Irritation, petulance." And he meets Konstantin's eyes again, steady as steel. "And I cannot be the first person who have witnessed it, or shown it kindness, because it had to have learned from someone else that the gestures and tone of voice I was using meant I didn't wish to harm it. Most likely someone here, if you were kept under study previously, because I can't imagine doctors showing that level of deviancy any sort of kindness."

Edited 2024-10-25 05:03 (UTC)

The unpleasant thing that he's trying very hard to stave off ripples again. It feels like— anger, though again, it's not necessarily aimed at Arthur. Objectively, he knows everything the other man's saying is true. He knows the creature can't, shouldn't be, gauged by human standards. He knows it's just as much a victim of its circumstances as he is. Earth is... an alien planet for it, and a miserable existence for the being. It can't even survive without his body as protection; it's so sensitive to the world around it.

And whether some of its 'emotions' are simply absorbed from its host or genuinely felt, he knows it's capable of them. Fear. Pleasure, displeasure. Curiosity. Rudimentary, perhaps, but more intelligent than he knows he's giving it credit for. It's almost... octopus-like, in its intelligence levels.

Arthur's also disconcertingly astute in all of his deductions regarding the creature learning from someone here, too. Konstantin sits there, a little stunned by the truths this man is saying, and feeling that kneejerk push against them. He breaks eye contact, his own jaw tightening as he's quiet for a moment, thinking. When he speaks again, there's no smile in his voice or his eyes.

"Whatever it's learned from people here, it utilises only for its own survival. Perhaps morality is an unfair concept to apply to such a creature," he does agree there, nodding softly. "But it isn't... a dog, or a cat. It isn't capable of true attachment. If you don't want to say it's capable for such a being to be cruel, I understand, but it's cold. Like an insect.

...The best outcome would be to exterminate it. Back in my home, I don't know if that's possible. But here, it's weaker. Maybe here, it can be killed."

Beat, and then something he hasn't said aloud yet, not once. But he thinks it every day.

"I am glad that you've found some kind of... peace, with your John Doe. But I want my life and my body back."

Arthur keeps watching him, and there's an odd sense of triumph in seeing the cheerful facade crack.

But he can't help the light scoff at Konstantin's closing statement.

"And you think I don't?" he asks wryly. "I was blind, and if we find a way to go home I certainly will be again. I had no sensation in my left hand, whatsoever, because that belongs to John. It's true that-" he waves a hand vaguely. "Perhaps I no longer resent him for it, generally speaking - but that doesn't mean I didn't miss my sight. Or that he could survive without my sacrifice."

His tone cools a little. "So... that means I wouldn't have ever gotten them back. Not without losing someone I care immensely about."

That has him looking back up again, and something in his own dark eyes softens once more. Curious, and wounded.

"How did you... manage it? How could you live like that and not..."

Want to die, is the thought that comes automatically, but he doesn't voice. It's what he chose for himself, in the end. There was more to it — the military and scientists were about to capture him again, and this time he'd never escape. They'd continue the experiments, turn him and the creature into their weapon. He had to end it, to keep humanity safe.

But it was also because.... he'd truly rather die than live like that, if there was no hope of separation, if he was only going to exist as a lab rat, if he'd be damned to live this way forever, home to a monster. He's never told anyone here this, either. Not even Vasiliy knows that last part.

"How did you keep it together?" He reshapes it like that instead, staring over at Arthur.

That gets a wry hum, despite himself. "Unfortunately, the answer is largely that everything that kept happening to us was worse than whatever our own struggles were. We learned to... to put aside our difficulties in pursuit of survival. See the bigger picture." He sits back a little, feeling his stiff leg complain at the motion. "Which isn't particularly helpful advice for you, but."

He scratches his jaw idly, frowning as he tries to find better words.

"...when I wanted to kill myself, it wasn't to do with John," he says, frank but gentle. "O-or it wasnt... because of him. It was to do with the situation, of course, but... it's because I was overwhelmed, I was- defeated, and- a-and I couldn't see any other options. Finishing off the job that everyone else seemed insistent on starting seemed like the easiest option."

His hands go back together, playing with his pinky again. "I didn't care who might suffer because of it. I was..."

And he tugs the collars of his jackets down, to reveal a slick, jagged gash across his throat, one that very much looks fatal. "Cutting my throat to spite my face, I suppose."

Konstantin falls silent again as he listens, the words snagging something up under his ribcage and hooking in hard and deep. He stares, horrified and drawn into those words all in the same moment, the way he's been about much of this strange, uncomfortable, revealing conversation with this mysterious man.

Slowly, his eyes lower to the gash that Arthur exposes to him. Does that mean... it was successful? Is he like Konstantin, then? Did he kill himself and then wake up here, somehow, miraculously, horrifically, alive?

There's a round scar in his abdomen where the bullet went in, hard and fast. He knows it worked. It had to have worked. He isn't supposed to be alive.

"Did this place... bring you back?" He all but whispers the question, eyes intense and wounded and breath tighter in his throat.

That gets a soft huff.

"It did, but... not because of this one." As he tugs his collar back up again. "Another being healed that one. I was stabbed by something else just before I arrived." He taps his torso, just shy of his sternum. A blow that certainly would have been fatal. "Run through with a rapier, funny enough. But I fell unconscious, so I can almost certainly make the assumption."

Konstantin's jaw tightens, thoughts racing through his mind. He doesn't know if this place truly brought him back or if it just... stopped him from dying. Kept a final breath going in his lungs, healed him enough to be able to crawl his way along the snow, until he was helped by others' hands. He remembers waking in a puddle of blood.

"....You've been quite the victim of brutality," he offers with a wince. But there's horror lingering beneath. Arthur was healed by another being, before. And then healed again in this place, the same as Konstantin himself.

.....The idea of not being able to die when you want to is.... horrific. Terrifying.

"Are you glad that you've been brought back and healed, again and again? Are you... grateful for a second chance?"

He knows it's a personal question, deep and cutting. Arthur may flinch away from it, and Konstantin would certainly let him. But they've shared much about one another — and he's on the cusp of sharing more about his own scars, just.. He has to ask. From someone else who understands.

"Honestly, at this point I'm probably on something like my ninth or tenth," he comments with grim humour. Easier to make light of the fact than focus on what it actually means.

But his voice drops a little when he continues. "But... still. I'm not upset, no. Not when it meant I got another chance to find out what happened to John and I, to- to solve the mysteries we found ourselves tangled in."

He glances up at Konstantin, but doesn't make an effort to hold his gaze. "I suppose the difference is... we always had something to look forward to. Or at least something to look for, something to keep us from getting lost in the darkness of everything we encountered."

He gives another soft huff, more gentle this time, and his words are measured, intoned. "The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep."

Ninth or tenth... It's almost incredible, in all the most horrible ways, that this mild-mannered younger man has been through such.... tragedy. How is he able to smile at all?

(Is it the same way that Konstantin's able to smile, despite the fact he's lost everything? There is nothing left for him back home. He is nothing. He's able to smile only because he wills it to be, all of the conditioning and training making him a powerhouse in the Art of Playing A Part.)

But no... No, it doesn't seem to be that way for Arthur. It's something much more authentic, more... hopeful. ('it meant I got another chance' — 'always had something to look forward to' — 'something to keep us from getting lost in the darkness')

He keeps staring over at him as he recites those words, the well-known Frost poem. Konstantin doesn't... talk about these things, never too much — only Vasiliy knows most of it — but... here and now, sitting beside someone like this... It feels a little safe to, maybe.

"The facility I was kept in before here... They were never going to let me go. I escaped, but it was only temporarily. They found me again. Maybe I already knew they would." His words come quiet and slow. There was no way he could outrun the Soviet military, the scientists.

"They wanted to make this... creature into a weapon." He glances down at himself, eyes drifting to his abdomen, where the thing curls up and rests, safe and warm from the cold around it.

"Use it for war. It could have had devastating effects for humanity. ....So I killed it, and myself. Shot us both." His free hand drifts to his abdomen, fingers brushing across his shirt front.

"Back where I'm from, I'm considered a Hero. It's a title given. I wanted to sacrifice myself, to save the world. I wanted to be something so... good. But if I'm honest with myself? It was also a selfish act. Maybe mostly selfish, in the end. I didn't want to live like this. I wanted to die."

He looks over at Arthur, aware of how vulnerable he's being, aware of the tremour to his voice, uncomfortable and desperate to share with someone all at the same time. "Waking up here, realising I wasn't... dead.... I don't know how to contend with that. The days pass by, but it can't last. I don't want this to last."

Arthur lets him talk, uninterrupted. This is clearly something he's not spoken of much, if it took this far into the discussion to even bring it up, and he wants to let him get the words out.

And when he's done, he stays silent for a few seconds. Looking down at their forgotten fishing lines, chewing on his words, trying to find something that...

There's no making this better. But at least there's feeling seen. Recognising that your pain isn't unique hurts, but by god is it better than being alone.

"John and I have been in... similar circumstances. Trapped by a higher power, monitored at all times, unable to- do much of anything, besides survive. And even then, it was... difficult. When our captors had no vested interest in my survival. He- they just wanted John. I was collateral, at best. An active a-and stubborn obstruction in the way of what they really wanted."

His hands knot, bouncing gently between his knees. "I don't think it's weak. To want not to live like that. I think it's... human, completely and utterly, to fight against being captured like that. Against being reduced to less than a person. And neither is taking it out on the only thing you can meaningfully impact."

He gestures to his throat again, just tapping it through his layers. "Perhaps it is selfish. But it's our life, to do with as we wish."

There's a rough exhale of breath after his own words, so much pent-up anxiety and odd emotion. There's more, so much more to all of it, but he's said more than he usually ever has. It's a lot.

It's also a lot to be... listened to. To sit and share with someone else, someone who can relate in... impossible ways. Someone who accepts him like this. Konstantin looks back over at the other man as he speaks of being trapped, monitored, by something that had no real interest in his survival, but the Other Thing's. He nods, soft and sad, understanding what it is to just be a vessel, to know that it's the only worth you have in that sort of situation.

The next part makes everything in him freeze. He's spent so long feeling like his humanity is something he's having to hold onto, desperate. 'I think it's... human'

Konstantin follows Arthur's fingers to the tap against his throat, and then lowers his eyes again. He feels... Seen, which has always been one of the worst thoughts in the world, the most frightening one, and yet... right now, he's drawn to it like some warm, safe place. He's very tired of pretending, of running, of fighting. His eyes are wet, and he blinks against the feeling.

"Even here, there are days I just... want this to end. It's more manageable here, this place weakens it, but...." His mouth curls in disgust, and shudders. The creature is abhorrent, and he's constantly aware of it, of its presence inside of him. Its wet, malleable body, curled into him, writhing, squirming, demanding. If he let himself lose composure, he might dig his fingernails into his skin and tear and tear and tear, trying to get it out.

"I want it out of me. I'd do anything to get it out."

He hums softly at the desperate, tired admission. "I'll admit I felt the same about John, for- most of our time together. When I finally realised that I... that I do care about him, that I can't lose him, it..." His hands knot again, rolling idly. "I won't deny that our circumstances are different. John's presence in me, i-it's not so... visceral."

He shifts to hold his own left hand again, rubbing the side again. "But I still lost agency. Autonomy. Pieces of my body, that I was never going to get back." Before here goes unsaid, because they both know it and it doesn't count. "But if John wasn't tethered to me... he'd be dead. Worse than. And I can't imagine doing that to him, not again."

The other man's situation is just as horrific, even if in some differing ways — as he says, it's still a loss of agency, autonomy. A loss of self. It's... a strange thing to have in common with somebody. Konstantin sits there in silence for a few moments as he listens, processes, fingers rubbing slowly against the slender pole in his hand.

"It must be strange for you, being here without him. You have a relationship. A friendship."

He can understand why Arthur is able to have empathy for the entity, even after everything it's taken from him. This "John" sounds like something that can be reasoned with, and clearly something capable of learning, adjusting, befriending.

"I believe the only reason my... creature is here with me is because it's like a part of my body now. We can't survive without one another. It will die without me, but if it leaves me for too long, I'll die too. It might as well be one of my organs."

"Then perhaps that's another way to look at the situation," he offers quietly. "My belief in John came with his change of character, when he... grew up, for lack of a better term."

He gestures to Konstantin. "Perhaps if you start trying to think of your creature as yours, rather than- than an intruder, a parasite. I-I'm not saying it's not, by any stretch," he's quick to assure. "But if you're stuck with it, then... well, you can hardly hate your lungs or your kneecaps for existing, even if you suffocate or limp sometimes."

He's quiet for a few long moments. His creature. Everything in him flinches at the concept, though he choose his words thoughtfully, trying to keep too much emotion out of it.

"The thing is.... since this place changes the rules, weakens it... it might be possible to actually kill it, here. The bond it has with me isn't so strong in this place."

He has no access to its memory anymore. For all he knows, that might mean they're not as tethered as they are back in his world.

"I just need to find a way to test that out, but I'm rendered unconscious whenever it leaves my body, so that makes it difficult for me to be involved." He smiles weakly. "But there are people with medical experience in this place, and I think I can trust some of them."

Sorry Arthur, he's still stuck on Worm Removal here.

Honestly, Arthur doesn't blame him. And he'd be lying to himself if he expected a single conversation to change Konstantin's mind on something this life-changing, this threatening to his very existence.

At the very least, he can caution him. Advise him in a way that has at the very least merited the weight the topic deserved.

"Medical experience is one thing," he says, calm and easy. No judgement, or at the very least trying not to sound patronising. "But experience with the things we have is another beast entirely. If the creature can exit your body entirely, a-and yet the harm that's done to it still affects you, then whatever ties it has to you are more than biological."

Konstantin certainly doesn't disagree. There's a reason he hasn't pursued something like this yet, taken... months, almost a year in this place. He knows it's risky, and... he has to be cautious. The last thing he wants to do is cause some irreparable damage to himself. There are people relying on him, here.

There's Vasiliy.

"It's definitely symbiotic in a way that no creatures from Earth seem capable of being," he nods. "But I'm thinking I start small. Someone forces the thing to stay outside of me for longer than an hour, just a little. See what happens. And maybe we can eventually test what happens if it doesn't get any food. If I stop being a good host for it.. maybe it will let me go."

There's an irony here that he's willing to let himself be a lab rat again, but... if there's even a chance the thing could be separated from him here...

"...I have a child, back home. A son." He stares at his hands for a moment. "If I manage to make it out of this place... and if I'm somehow still alive back home... I have to find him. Help him. I can't do that if I have a dangerous monster inside of me."

"...I have a child, back home. A son."

He rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together over his mouth. Somehow the news is equal parts completely shocking as it is... well. Of course this complete stranger with a dozen other parallels to him has a fucking child as well.

He just has to breathe through that for a moment, as his chest tightens with heartache.

And then a deeper one, steadying himself to keep talking, and he clears his throat gently so it doesn't crack. "I want to be there. W-when you do it." He sits up again, and the look in his gold-cracked eyes is a challenge. "I'm not any sort of medic, I'll admit that. But it-" with a gesture to Konstantin's stomach. "Regardless of anything else, it clearly trusts me, at least to some extent. And I think you'll need someone there with that ability, someone willing to pull the plug if this goes south sooner than you're expecting. If you can't survive apart, I will make sure you survive together."

His eyes only soften then, sympathetic. "If nothing else, it's the only way you'll get to try again later."

Konstantin looks back up at him, perpetually struck off-guard by things that Arthur Lester says to him. 'I want to be there'

He wants to help him. Him, who's still practically a stranger (even if, after all that's been shared between them now, Konstantin feels some bond to this man, something deep and desperate and yearning). Him, who could be a danger to the other man who's already known such horrors through his life. Arthur doesn't owe him a thing. And yet here he's offering to... make sure he survives, during this (a thought that Konstantin initially kneejerk flinches from, because some deep shameful part of him would still rather die than exist like this, sick and weak and in so much pain. He doesn't have the medicine from the facility here to keep him from feeling the nausea, the ache. Every day he feels it. The thing, wet and coiled inside of him; his body protests its presence, again and again, he fucking hates it—)

...But Arthur's right. Surviving is the only way he can try again later. So Konstantin bows his head for a moment, sighing slow through his nostrils, deeply considering all of this. Eventually, he nods.

"I don't suppose there's any sense trying to convince you that the last thing you of all people need is to get closer to my trouble." This particular man has every right to turn away from Konstantin. But he doesn't. He won't. He's kind, and brave.

"...Thank you." A softer exhale, a shudder of breath. "It can form.. trust. It's happened before. It understands when people help it, and.... I do think it might be less likely to harm someone like that." So it's... a good thing, ultimately, if Arthur does continue to befriend his disgusting little passenger. Maybe it won't hurt him. Maybe it might even protect him if it's ever necessary, the way it protected Tatiana.

"But I want you to do what you have to do. If it ever approaches you again in the meantime... if you feel that it's becoming a threat... I don't want you to get hurt for me."

Edited 2024-11-11 03:14 (UTC)

It's a rush of relief, when Konstantin relents, lets him help, and he finally smiles, a more natural and genuine one as his tension settles a little.

"Don't worry. You're actually not the first possessed person we-" ah, the automatic 'we' makes his heart hurt. "Th-that I've helped, in- in this way. Perhaps not quite so literally, but... we find we have a sense of duty, John and I, in- in being like this. Being aware of the wider world, the unnatural and surreal. To help those who are in over their heads when they discover it, to try and prevent any more loss or pain that we can manage."

It wasn't a perfect science - it wasn't even that, it was just two assholes trying to be better than the world that dragged them through the mud and helping other people escape it. But Marie and Hattie were better, and Oscar was...

...he was better without them, at least.

"And I'm certainly not afraid of pain, so." He gestures to his face with a wry grin. "You'll have to do worse than that to scare me off."

Part Two: The Detective

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cw: suicide things

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cw: continued suicide things

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cw: suicide things yet again boyos

Re: cw: suicide things yet again boyos

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