thearena | (no subject)

Who| The Psiioniic + Signless, with bonus Psiioniic and YOU! action
What| The Psiioniic arrives in a less then spectacular fashion, runs into someone he hasn't seen in a really long time, and then ollies out for some private time where he's free to run into some other poor soul.
Where| The Cornucopia, and then slowly shuffling towards the Haunted Mansion.
When| Week six!
Warnings/Notes| References to to body horror, as far as warnings go. Also, I'm starting in prose but action is just as good with me!

He doesn't remember a lot of what happened to him before he wound up at this weird, golden thing. The last thing he could remember clearly before some strange almost-troll stuffed him into clothing and rambled something about honor and death before jabbing him and shoving him into a tube was the battleship. He had been running a mandatory check on system efficiency before he was just...empty. Empty and cold and then the world went dark.

He didn't know what had happened to him. He didn't know who had separated him from the system, and he wasn't sure if he should thank them or despise them. It was strange without the wires under his skin, without the pulse and hum of the ship. He felt like he had lost a part of himself, even though now he was free. Free, and extremely scared. It was too wrong, too wrong to be able to move and to be out of the system.

That, and he really didn't know how his body worked anymore. After so long of using nothing but his mind... Let's just say this isn't going to be pretty. He's already wobbling back and forth, trying to figure out this whole "balance" thing, and then he's tipping forward and yep that is his face smashing into the ground.

Ow.

People are not fun. It's been a thousand sweeps since he's actually talked to a person. All of the communication he did on the ship wasn't through the typical means - every word, spoken or typed, was filtered straight into his brain. Being wired into a system and then being thrust into a world and having to relearn everything over wasn't...easy. It was going to be a long, long while before he would be able to just get out and actual be able to interact. He could walk (even if it had taken him a while to get the mechanics down, and it was really something more akin to hobbling or shuffling), but what he couldn't do just yet is handle all of these new and long-forgotten sensations.

So he shuffles his way away to Signless, shuffles down a deserted street. He has no clear goal in mind, but he does notice something as he follows the street - he's starting to feel just a little bit less empty.

He's still horrendously slow, and he's not even bothering to stay hidden or to the shadows. He doesn't really care about staying alive at this moment. Plus it's too much of a hassle when he can barely stand up straight, and he just knows that if he tried to run he'd just trip on whatever's hiding in the shadows, or over his own two feet. The way he sees it, he has a better chance of surviving if someone can see him being completely pitiful and being overcome with mercy because he's horribly pathetic.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Don't cry," he says, reaching out but not touching, his hands hovering with indecision inches from the Psiioniic's body.

He doesn't want to be touched, but he needs comfort, but he doesn't want it from you, Signless, he thinks you're dead, he thinks he's dead, he probably thinks you're both in some sort of purgatory and you're here to torture him personally.

"Please, Tuna, don't cry." Seeing his moirail like this, reduced to this state, is making him tear up, and he wipes the corners of his eyes a little aggressively to head it off. It's a reflex from sweeps of being terrified of tearing up in public and being exposed for what he was in one of the most visible ways that didn't involve outright being stabbed. "You're safe, with me."

It's not really true. They're in an enclosed arena where people are being forced to cull each other. No one is really safe here. But he wants so desperately for it to be true, still. He's starting to think there's nothing he can do or say to help, and that feeling of failure and powerlessness is not one he likes.

"There has to be some way I can help. Something I can do."

"Don't- Don't touch me." He hiccups, pressing his palms into his eyes as his fingertips keep digging into his temples. Maybe if he can't see the Sufferer he'll just disappear. Maybe this is a hallucination.

He hopes it's a hallucination.

"How can I be...be thafe with you?" The words are bitter and heavy on his tongue, but he can't help himself. "It'th your fault! Everything that happened to me!"

He hiccups again, and he feels like his bloodpusher is going to rip out of his chest, that his airsacks are collapsing and that he's going to suffocate in these feelings. He feels like he's drowning in these emotions and memories he can't completely place, and he knows that without the Sufferer he wouldn't be in so much pain. "You did thith to me!"

That stops him cold. He feels like the ground under him is collapsing. He wasn't exactly happy to see the Psiioniic here, not when it meant him being trapped in a deathmatch, but it had been comforting to think he might not have to survive here alone.

But he's not wanted. He's hated. His moirail doesn't feel safe with him, blames him for... for whatever he went through that did this to him. It's like seeing the Beforan Mituna's horrible decline all over again, except so much worse because he cares so deeply for this Mituna and there's absolutely nothing he can do that won't make it worse, and he doesn't even know why it's happening.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks, very softly. He's no longer trying to stop himself from crying.

A deep, shuddering breath. He doesn't know how to answer that. His gut wants to say no, but that's insane. This is the troll who had so many promises for him, and his mind whispered that it was his fault. This traitor and his promises had earned him a one way ticket to the helm on the Empress' ship and sweeps upon sweeps upon sweeps of pain and torment as he was forced to stay alive as the wires pushed deeper and deeper into him seeking the energy to keep the ship moving.

He should scream yes, demand that the Sufferer never speaks to him again, to demand that the hallucination stops. But he can't. Some small, absolutely insane part of him believes that this traitor can help, and he doesn't know why. Everything is jumbled and wrong and he just.

"I don't know. I don't...I don't know what I want."