singillatim | scene ii | ota

Entry tags:

scene ii | ota | el topo

Who: Tom Zane and anyone he's talked to for more than 30 seconds
What: Tom puts his holiday boar present to use. It's drugs.
When: Anywhere from december to early january
Where: Various places around the Milton area
Warnings: Heavy use of drugs, possible coercion/manipulation to use said drugs, will update accordingly

Tom asks for more than he needs not out of gluttony, but because he feels there's a necessity for it. The world is bleak and cruel, and people here don't know anything about themselves. If Zane can help with that, why not?

There's simply no point in hoarding this sort of stuff. They're all in this together, and that means Tom is going to pitch in the best way he knows how: a little party. Different from the beautiful ones they've been having, more one-on-one, far more intimate. He does his best work like that.

There's also the fact that he just enjoys having fun on psychedelics, too. That's a very big factor. It's not all cryptic poetry and mysterious motivations on his end.

i. Alan, Mr. Scratch, and Dr. Darling

He seeks those from home first. Each one of them gets a visit in their respective homes. Alan he wakes up by simply going to his room in the morning and standing directly over the foot of his bed, patiently waiting until he opens an eyes. Scratch at least gets a knock on his door before he barges in. Darling gets the softest touch out of all of them, Zane waiting until they're both settled in the evening before wordlessly grabbing research notes book out of the scientist's hands. The words are the same to all three:

"I've decided we're going to have fun."

ii. close CR

Next, he seeks those he has a connection with. He's been solidly binging by the time this happens, and he hasn't slept much for about two days. It doesn't bother him in the least. If anything, it fuels him--this is what he's used to. This feels familiar. It's nice to stop drowning and start floating, if only for a while. Who is he not to share this gift?

He brews tea out of the psychedelics, an old thermos tucked underneath his bundled up arms with each visit he makes. He's spent the better half of three or so months observing, so it's not hard to memorize the usual haunts of people he considers friends. Some he even visits in their cabins.

"I have something for you."

iii. OTA - partaking

He's been rolling for an awful long time now, but he still has a mission as well of a few doses left: he'll sidle up to anyone he deems in need of it--the sullen and the moody are definitely high on his list, but he moves to the sunnier ones, too.

The problem with this big pile of snow they're on is that everyone's broken. If this fixes it, all the better. In the community hall, outside, or any area roughly around Milton Zane can be found with a thermos, eyeing people. Staring. Deciding. With a hum, he'll get up and move towards them, delight in his eyes and a soft, mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

"Hey, man. How's it going?"

iv. OTA - observing

Tom Zane is everywhere. He is on a higher level of consciousness, fully in and attuned to his emotions. He is in a state of blissful being, feeling one with the aurora and the land and all that entails. He is art. He is inspiration. He is being. He hasn't felt like pure creation since the Dark Place.

He's calm and anchored, but it's not hard to tell he's going on a bender. Even without looking at his eyes, it's fairly obvious he hasn't had much sleep in the past week or so. He's content, and can be found doing all manner of things: he stands directly on a table in the community hall to frame something he cannot physically film. He wanders out into the wilderness nearly shirtless for the umpteenth time and doesn't seem to notice the cold. He dances. He has entire conversations with inanimate objects. He brings his camera with him absolutely everywhere during the entirety of this, making art despite having no film or power. Occasionally, he'll scribble poems in a fit of inspiration. It's also not uncommon to see him read the same page of a book over and over either, absolutely transfixed. Despite the gloom and the darkness, Tom Zane is having a grand old time.

v. wildcard

[ if you'd like a personalized starter or want to plot a little further as Zane delves into other people's psyches via hallucinogenics, don't hesitate to let me know! hit me up at

whitespire or tortillasunrise on discord.]

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Levi is confused. That's perfectly fine for Zane--he's expecting it, mostly. People here don't feel the same way about things that he does, too far into themselves, twisting their own narratives and justifying things in a terribly unhealthy way.

Tom Zane is built different. And what's why he squeezes the other's wrist in the awkward half-hand hold, heading straight for Doctor Darling's cabin.

"Why are you so concerned with ulterior motives, man? Maybe I just want to have fun and get to know people here. Maybe I like interesting things, and you fit the bill nicely. Or maybe--" a glance back at him again, "--I have a soft spot for the miserable ones."

Levi's eyebrows rise slightly. He doubts anyone is not miserable in this place, but this feels like he's being singled out. Is it his face? Maybe it doesn't really matter, though he balks at the idea of anybody pitying him in particular.

"I'm not that interesting," he grouses instead, his expression finally returning to it's usual, slightly frowning state, but he still follows along nonetheless, too tempted by the promise of-- well, pretty much anything vaguely tea-like and warm and this point.

"Just so we're clear, I'm not sucking you off for some knock-off herb water." Just making sure their expectations are aligned, or perhaps a crude attempt at humor, it's hard to tell with his perpetual deadpan. "What did you make it from, anyway?"

The sexual comment gets a genuine laugh out of Zane, pleasantly surprised. This is the other reason he wants to hang out with Levi, he thinks. He loves getting caught off guard. Probably, he should hate it, given his past behaviour, but this is a different situation.

"I asked that magic boar for some very specific fungi from home," he answers, and as he heads up the stairs he glances back at Levi a second time.

"You really think I'm luring you into my place so I can trick you for favours? You're very cynical."

"I don't think anything yet," Levi clarifies evenly. "I don't know you."

Which can really go either which way now, and his experience dictates it's best to always be wary and ready for anything.

And of all the things and assumptions, it's the word fungi that seems to stop Levi solid in his tracks. He may or may not be aware that it's also synonymous with mushrooms.

"Fungi," he repeats, his nose scrunching up in open disgust. "Like the shit that grows on smelly feet?"

Levi has a point, and that seems to delight Zane in a way he hasn't felt in a while--since talking with Alan for the first time. There's something about the knowledge that someone operating on an entirely different plane than you is going to eventually be dragged down to your level.

Not literally. Levi is very short. Not much further to go from down there, and Zane practically towers over him.

"Yes. Have you not had mushrooms on your pizza before?"

But how does he know that his level is downwards?

Levi doesn't seem intimidated by their size difference -- there's plenty of reasons for that, of course, though one can't discard the fact that he's also simply used to it because most adult men tend to be taller than him. He just scoffs up at Zane as if he's being purposefully obtuse.

"Mushrooms are different," he decides, then squints a little in what could pass as either suspicion or confusion. "And I don't know what peetsa means."

Oops. There's a lot of room to learn new things here, it seems.

Oh. Oh, dear. Tom's lower lip juts out in a highly affected version of pity, but it's gone almost immediately. He misses pizza. He misses french fries, too, and fresh fruit. He'd probably kill someone for some pineapple.

Does Levi know what pineapple is? What about a negroni? Thoughts spin around in Tom's head, all trite and far too trivial to ask now that they're on the precipice of greatness.

"Mushrooms are mushrooms, handsome. Edible and nutritious. Did you know they're all connected? Just like us. Here--go on, take a seat. Right by the fire. Get comfortable, hang loose."

Levi misses simpler things, like potato stew, apples and tea. He does not, in fact, know what pineapples or cocktails are. He would probably be fascinated by pretty much any warmer climate fruit.

He still has not concluded whether the other man is just one of those weirdly friendly types or is actually trying to get something out of him, but he supposes it doesn't matter too much. As far as he knows, he's immune to pretty much anything one could spike a drink with, so he's not in any danger, and a fire is mighty tempting after spending much of the day inside.

So he just grunts vaguely in acknowledgement and marches over to take that nice, warm seat. If it's something fancy like an armchair, he might even sink into it a little.

"I'll be there, too, man. Right with you," he assures, "You can watch me pour it and everything. Choose your cup. It's all good." He takes Levi kinda sinking into a chair as a good thing and a proper start, and as a gesture of good will he hands the other the thermos.

They've just met, after all. While Tom is totally alright doing copious amounts of drugs in front of and with complete strangers, maybe Levi isn't.

"It's best to chug if you're not used to the taste," he supplies. "And to be honest, you're doing me a favour... I don't particularly like being alone here."

What does he mean, here? In his home? Does he normally have a roommate or something?

Levi scoffs a little and opens the thermos he's been handed, leaning in to sniff the contents. It doesn't smell feet-disgusting, fortunately, but it's definitely a bit weird and unlike anything he's tasted before. Mostly it just leaves him more confused.

"You said it's tea?.." he grumbles, perhaps trying to coax some more information, and pours some into the lid-mug, holding it out toward the other man. You first.

"Yeah, man!" Tom is beaming. "It's a real party thing, it'll get you in the spirit for some transcendental inspiration!"

That's Tom's version of information--he takes the mug, umurmurs a very quick kippis, and proceeds to down what is given.

"I've been riding this whole wave for a few days now, it's been great! I feel like my old self. Maybe you'll find some stability, huh? Maybe we can peel back some layers, together! You and me! Or we can just hang out."

Well. It's clearly not poison, considering the other man's eagerness, though Levi is still perplexed by the thing apparently being such swill that he's supposed to swallow it down without savoring the taste. The promise of warmth in his belly is too tempting, however, so he pours himself a portion too -- using a different mug if one is available, or if only the lid is within reach he'll just make sure to put his lips on a different part of it.

It tastes about how it smells; odd and a little unpleasant, like medicine, but not gross in a way that would make him spit it out. It's also nice and warm, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand once he's done, closing the thermos.

"I'm keeping my layers, thanks," he mutters, scowling and tucking his scarf in tighter into his coat. Hearing his own voice feels a little weird, as if he's just listening to it, but it's probably just because this has to be the most talking he's done in weeks. "What old self are you talking about?"

"Before all of this I dove into a lake, right? And the lake swallowed me up, man. I drowned, but then I started to float, and after years of floating and breaking off the pieces of me that didn't matter, I started to see everything." He laughs again, free spirited, pleased.

"My old self, my new self, my past self, my other selves, it's all connected, but I like the feeling I get when I go back to how it was before I swam, sometimes. Like this, right here, now, with someone else. With you. Connecting." Levi is keeping his clothes on, but Tom is unbuttoning his shirt as he speaks, laying on the floor to stare up at the ceiling and letting the drugs wash over him.

"Hey--do you think you're real?"

Edited (wrong black haired titan attacker, forgive me) 2025-05-22 15:44 (UTC)

"That might have been the lake monster," Levi says flatly, even though there isn't one on Milton's side and the man might be talking about events before he came to Northern Territories rather than before their little get-together just now.

He does a little double-take when the other man apparently starts undressing, though he has to admit it doesn't seem like a terribly bad idea at the moment. It's getting pretty damn warm, and he has to consider whether he wants to stubbornly keep his coat on or not. He's definitely not losing his own shirt, though he might look, just a little bit.

The question feels like it punches the ground from under him, his form sinking a little deeper into his seat. It's not something he's considered before, and for some reason, right now, he's not sure how convinced he is of a positive answer.

"I'd better," he grumbles, "or someone has a really fucked up sense of humor."

There's a lake monster? Tom's head lifts up in mild surprise. How had he not heard this before? Surely no one has told him and it's not that he's spend literal months inside his own head and refusing to ask for much help beyond tools for survival?

Well, shit. Interesting. He keeps his head up long enough to keep looking at Levi, lower lip jutted out into a half-pout as he considers what the other's saying. Is the grumble good? Bad? Levi's interesting enough that Tom wants to find out.

"Humour, yeah." Tom's smile fades somewhat, and he props himself up on his elbows to better look at the other, squinting slightly.

"You think the world's one, big cosmic joke, then?"

Levi stares back, having seemingly forgotten how to blink. The warmth is making his cheeks flush and he feels a little light-headed, as if the world is slowing down around them. Somehow, he doesn't find himself particularly alarmed.

"Sometimes," he says, surprised at his own honesty. He can think of at least one recent time when he's had that exact thought, when he'd first contemplated that his subordinates' sacrifices may have been for nothing. "What's cosmic?"

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scene ii | ota | el topo

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lolll damng

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