wilderlogs | Cold be hand and heart and bone... [closed to Jon Kent]

Entry tags:

Cold be hand and heart and bone... [closed to Jon Kent]

Who: Closed to Seamus Harper and Jonathan Kent
What: A little side adventure intro
Where: A little bit aways from the main quest
When: During their travel to Weathertop
Warnings/Notes: Mention of mercy killing, body horror

What the hell...?

[Seamus Zelazny Harper, super genius extraordinaire, lead engineer of the glorious (and babealicious) ship the Andromeda Ascendant, was no stranger to weirdness. Every since he'd joined Dylan's merry band of idiots and tried to help him restore order to the universe, his life had taken a sideways step into the strange. But this was high octane, A-grade weird in a way he wasn't used to.]

[To go from standing there in front of the tesseract device to falling through some weird tunnel of leaves surrounded by whispers, to being surrounded by grassland and scrub and hills...]

[Well, at least the scenery's nice, even if it's a little dim and misty. It looks like Earth the way it used to be in pictures, before it was ravaged by the Long Night. The mudfoot in him can't help but revel the feeling of dirt and grass under his boots, and the air... God that smells good, way better than the sterile, stale recycled air in the Andromeda and Maru, or the nasty-smelling air of Earth, tinged with fallout, death, and decay. Somebody could make a killing bottling the air of this place and selling it.]

[In fact, it's so good it clues him into what happened. He'd been about to shoot the tesseract device - his only chance at survival - to save Hohne, he'd asked Dylan to kill him and Tyr had volunteered instead...]

Oh, I get it. Tyr must've taken the shot after I turned my back so I didn't see it coming [Since one of the others could've turned off the tesseract generator. Harper had made his final decision.] That was kind of almost considerate of him.

[He didn't even remember any pain so he must've made that one hell of a head shot. Quick and clean.]

So what is this? The afterlife? [No, he doesn't really believe in an afterlife, or the Divine, or anything.] Or maybe it's just my brain just trying to make sense of things as I die.

[Which would explain why his subconscious had given him the happy idea of the Magog larvae being kept at bay by something. His hand briefly goes to touch the rabbits' foot on its chain around his neck.]

[Then he holds up his hands and talks to the sky, walking along, trying to figure out where to go.]

Alright, brain, what magical revelation do you want me to have before I bite the dust? Or is this just going to be an epic thrill ride of fever dream weirdness? If I'm allowed to, uh, put in any requests, I'd rather it be some kind of psychological journey or crazy acid trip instead of watching my life flash before my eyes. "Harper's Greatest Hits" ain't so great if you consider all the early stuff.

[A part of him wonders if he should be sad or scared - he's dying, after all, but he's already grappled with the idea of dying more times than he can count. What he'd been afraid of most was dying horribly by getting eaten from the inside out and if Tyr bypassed that and gave him something gentler, well...he can live with that. Or, y'know, die with that.]

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[The last thing Jon had known, he was being forced through a portal to go back home, before it had... twisted, somehow, turning into leaves and and falling, quiet words spoken to him. And then, well.

He shoves himself up into a sitting position and looks around. Wherever this is, it isn't Yggardis or Metropolis, and Damian isn't anywhere nearby that he can tell. All the superpowers he's developed over the last several months seem to be gone, but he can still see a normal yellow sun. And the niggling feeling it might have to do with some of those words he heard.]

Da- Robin?

[Nothing. With how obnoxious the older boy can be, the near-slip would have caught his attention if he was around at all. Jon stands up, checking himself over. Cape is still there, jacket's still zipped up, his jeans don't have any new holes in them, and his Converse are still on both feet. Pulling his phone out and turning it on doesn't show any signal, either, so with a sigh he turns it back off and shoves it back into its pocket.]

Hello? Anyone hear me?

[He can't get in trouble for falling into another dimension, right? He hopes not.

After a while, he shrugs, and picks a random direction to start walking in, cutting across the grass towards the slope of a hill. If nothing else, maybe looking from somewhere with a view'll give him any ideas.

Adventures, it turns out, are a lot better with someone else along for the ride.

Once up the summit of the hill, he scopes around.]

Wow, this is empty.

[There's nothing to watch except the wind occasionally winding through the grass and scrubby brush. And then, someone comes into view, their hands raised to the sky.]

Hey, mister! Hey!

[And so begins the waving as Jon begins running- well, more like taking long bouncing strides and managing to not trip over himself and crash- in the man's direction.]

[Harper just keeps muttering to himself as the kid bounces his way.]

A kid in a...Superman outfit?

[The kid's in jeans and all that but that sure is a Superman outfit, complete with cape. Harper definitely recognizes the symbol. Superman's one of the classics, and for good reason; there's just something timeless about that kind of story to Earthers. The idea that a man would grow up human, find out his secret heritage of being something more powerful and perfect, and decide he's going to use his newfound power to protect others -- and, most importantly of all, that he's still no better than everyone else? It's the kind of story that sticks in the collective memory.]

[Harper's always preferred some of the other classical lit heroes more (like Green Lantern) but it's a very solid Earther fantasy: an uber deciding he's only human and that the best thing he can do with his specialness is constantly play to his own better nature.]

What is this, some kind of meditation on my lost innocence or something?

[The kid does look a little bit like Declan. (Poor Declan.) Maybe that's for a reason, maybe this is something where he's supposed to confront...something. Something with his broken childhood and innocence lost young yada yada yada.]

[Then the kid is finally close and Harper has no idea what to do because 1) death dream (what do?) and 2) kids, how do they work? Even before he left Earth and stopped being around kids altogether, from his teens to age twenty, he'd been a little punk running around with his cousins causing trouble for the Nietzscheans, too busy to bother with any younger members of the gang. He hasn't really hung out with any kids for years.]

Uh. Hi?

[He waves awkwardly, a subtle flick of one hand.]

I'm not sure how this all works but I'm guessing we're supposed to go on some kind of life-changing journey together? You tell me.

Uh, hi. [Jon blinks at the man for a second. Honestly, this is not the sort of reaction he expected. Even the awkward hello was at least in that range.

But still! The man's question reminds him of the words he heard, before ending up on the grass here.]

You heard the message from the Green? It looks that way.

[Even if Jon doesn't have his powers and this guy looks kind of twitchy in the sort of way that'd have his mom starting to make comments he's supposed to pretend he didn't actually hear. It's probably the hair.]

I'm Superboy.

Superboy. Right. Of course you are.

[Wow, his brain sure is cooking up something weird.]

I guess seeing as you're a superhero and all that you should be in charge of this little venture. Time to get into a largely pointless adventure that teaches me a not-so-enduring life lesson about honesty or something.

[Harper gestures magnanimously with a flick of his wrist.]

Lead the way, kid.

[And that's how Harper accidentally puts the ten-year-old in charge, thinking he's a psychological psychopomp spewed forth from the depths of the subconscious of his own dying brain. Whoops.]

Edited 2018-04-26 09:30 (UTC)

[He's in charge. Honestly, the rest of his comment goes in one ear and out the other because Jon is still focused on those oh-so-magical words. This adventure is already amazing- and it's turning out to be a good thing Damian isn't here, because he would have scoffed and insisted on being in charge on account of being Robin.

Jon huffs his chest out slightly, and leans back to push his shoulders out and make himself look as tall as he can.]

Sure! Let's go... [There's a second as he pauses for a bit, concentrating as he looks around. Just ignore the fact the tip of his tongue is sticking out a lil' bit. Something feels... different, one direction over the others. Even though there isn't anything obvious just looking around. He scuffs his heel against the ground before looking up at Harper.] This way.

What's your name?

Edited 2018-04-26 12:00 (UTC)

[Harper feels that vague tugging too and follows along. When Jon asks his name he gives him a flat stare.]

Is that how we're playing this? Where you pretend to not know me?

[Harper rolls his eyes. Silly brain, trying to mess with him. Maybe it's trying to make this little adventure feel real so it's all meaningful. Harper decides to play along. If it's some kind of escapist fantasy, he may as well commit until he fades out and his neurons stop firing uncontrollably. It's not like he can do anything else.]

Seamus Zelazny Harper, lead engineer of the Andromeda Ascendant. Also, it's only engineer. Also also, technically now I'll be its ex-engineer since apparently I've run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible.

As you know (even though you're pretending not to know) [Silly figment of his imagination.] I'm pining for the fjords now.

[He sure is saying things that probably make no sense. Have fun with that, Jon.]

Uhh.

[He might be young, but between two journalist parents and all their friends it doesn't take that long for Jon to realize something's amiss here, if those references mean what he thinks they're supposed to in this case.

Part of the problem is he hasn't actually been taught what to do in this sort of situation, beyond having the suspicion that the 'Gotham' way isn't it. Plus, Harper looks very alive and healthy, and the sort of decision Damian would make would probably change that second one.]

You aren't dead yet.

[There. What a good job he did. He's still taking the lead for now, anyhow.]

You work on a ship? That's cool.

Of course I'm not dead. Technically, that's still true. Technically.

[He's just dying. Not quite dead.]

[But if his brain is playing things this way it's playing things this way. It's not like he can control this. This is all random neurons firing off in their electrochemical swan song and his brain trying to make sense of it and rationalize it into something logical, trying to make it into a narrative.]

Not just a ship, the ship. [Harper gestures emphatically.] The best, the boldest, and definitely the most beautiful.

[If he sounds a little lovestruck? Well...he is.]

Uhuh. Right.

[That definitely didn't work, and on top of that he isn't sure how to prove he's right without doing anything mean. Maybe he should just give up on that for now unless Harper does anything dangerous. It's definitely not something Damian would do, so it's the right call.

At least wherever it is they are is kinda nice, reminding him more of the open areas around Hamilton County. Even if he doesn't see any tells of a town or farm anywhere nearby.]

What kinda ship?

[He thinks he's asking what kind of spaceship rather than what kind of ship, because what other ships are there anymore?]

A Glorious Heritage Class warship. I'd say she's packed with all the bells and whistles, but to torture a metaphor: if they're bells, they're more like church bells, and they're not so much whistles as 120 decibel fog horns.

We're talking EMF launch systems, Point Defense Lasers and antiproton cannons, OM-5 offensive kinetic kill missiles and DM-5 Defensive kinetic kill missiles (among others), heavy sensor/attack drones and slipfighters, a state-of-the-art GFG Mark VIII slipstream drive, a top-of-line - and very sassy AI - she's got the works, including one very curvy -

[Crap, this is a literal child. Time to self-censor basically his entire personality. (God, he sucks at this.)]

- uh. Hull. A curvy hull...

[He goes back to being a nerd again.]

...with five different kinds of armor. And a whole bunch of systems I designed or redesigned, like the AP converters. [He says it very proudly, because if he's dying he's going to be cocky a few more times going out the door.] As far as starships go, she's the cream of the crop, the pièce de résistance of the Commonwealth's starship engineering.

[He gestures towards himself with a thumb.]

And I was her engineer.

[Was. His expression falls a little.]

[Okay, that stings, the thought of someone else taking over, poking their rotten fingers into all her nooks and crannies. Even Andromeda herself is picky enough now to prefer his gentle touch and she deserves someone with that much creativity and finesse. He hopes whoever she gets next treats her the way she deserves to be treated. She's not just a good ship, she's a good friend, and that means her next engineer should be a good friend back and make sure she's well taken care of, the same way she takes care of her crew.]

More than anything else, she's good people. [A slight shrug of one shoulder as he picks his way over some wobbly scree.] She's my friend.

[Jon has been to the moon at this point, which is still incredible to him. A spaceship is Something Else, even in a world where alien invasions aren't counted as impossible. That, and the fact that about eighty percent of the rest of what Harper said flew over his head, enough that the almost inappropriate comment also was missed totally.]

Wait, you mean like a spaceship? So you're an astronaut?

[Jon really likes space. Even if he's missed the point there.]

"Astronaut." Now there's a word nobody's used in a couple thousand years.

[There's something about the kid's enthusiasm that's infectious and Harper gives him the smallest little smile, surprised anything could coax it out of him right now.]

[Maybe that's the point of this, reflecting on things with new eyes.]

I'm an engineer. On yes, a spaceship. But nobody's been called an 'astronaut' since... sheesh, pre-first contact with the Vedrans, at least.

What year do you think it is?

Edited 2018-04-27 10:52 (UTC)

[Jon is very good at that sort of thing. Even if the fact that Harper's asking about the year and is implying he's from the distant future makes him want to ask more questions.]

It's 2017.

[Pause.]

At least back home. Who knows what it is here.

[Because apparently alternate dimensions don't always match, even if they have the same dating system.]

What do you think it is? And who're the Vedrans?

The Vedrans are the aliens that formed the Commonwealth, which Earth was a part of until it crashed and burned harder than a malfunctioning grav speeder doing a daredevil routine, around 300 years ago.

[The date Jon provides gives him pause because that's a really weird curveball to have thrown his way.]

[2017 CY would be a strange, random time for the kid to claim to be from. The Superman costume, however, makes Harper wonder if it's 2017 AD, back when the classical hero was still being written about.]

CY 2017? Or 2017 AD, as in Anno Domini, as in the Gregorian calendar, as in ho-ly crap, are you saying you're from ancient Earth?

[Wait, 'ancient' earth? He doesn't know what 'CY' means, and 'Anno Domini' probably means 'AD', and isn't fully sure on the Gregorian calendar for that matter, but 'ancient'?]

Ancient? That's like, the Greeks.

[Even though Wonder Woman would probably not be completely on board with her culture being called ancient by him or anybody, since hers is very alive, and included bringing a dead boar to the house for dinner. Once.]

The Greeks would be more appropriately classified as "stupid old." They're extra extra ancient. 2017 is just normal ancient.

[Harper outright stops in place, no longer picking his way through rocks and scrub and grass.]

Kid, I'm from CY 10088. Going by the old Earth calendar that's [He looks upward, mentally doing the calculations] 5168 AD. So you're looking an awful lively for a fossil.

[Why 2017? Why the Superman outfit? Why the claims he's "Superboy?" This is feeling less and less like some hallucination dream and like...something else. Something Harper doesn't understand, something new.]

[He's wearing that symbol when even in Harper's time it means something, and the air smells green and clear and crisp and realer than real, and even in the half-light of the mists and fog, the hills and mountains beyond are looking startingly solid. There's an ache in his heart as he takes it all in. Yes, there's fear of the unknown, but he wants this to be real even if it's strange and difficult to understand. Real means he's got a chance, real means there's something deeper going on. And deeper means... something. He's not sure what.]

You said you're Superboy. You're just... playing pretend, right? Imitating Superman from the old comics. You're not trying to say you're an actual factual real-life superhero.

[A kid in his subconscious running around pretending to be a superhero is one thing, that's grounded in some kind of reality, grounded in things he and his cousins did in childhood, but the more bizarre this gets, the more it feels strangely concrete.]

[Jon twists and turns, cape snapping from it, once he realizes Harper isn't walking anymore.

5168 AD? That's ages from now. As far away from Jon's time as the Ancient Egyptians and Greeks are, just in the opposite direction.

It's a lot to take in, even for a kid starting to experience a much bigger, weirder world than they were used to, with bigger risks, on a scale different than most his age are adjusting to (if they ever do).

And then there's that question, if he's just playing pretend. He doesn't know what's going through the man's head- Jon doesn't know everything, just that Harper thinks he should be dying, or is gonna be dead soon, instead of being here- but even then it's an out of place question unless he's changing his mind on that, or something.

He looks up at him earnestly, red cape pushed back and to the side a bit by a slight breeze, and shakes his head. At no point has he gotten tangled up by it or had it twist on him like it might have if it was something he wasn't used to wearing it. Bright blue. Bright yellow. Bright red.]

I'm not playing pretend. I'm really Superboy. I'd normally be able to prove it real easy, but I can't here. Not really sure why.

What, you forgot to pay your superhero utility bills and got the power turned off, I guess? [It's a little too mean to say to a kid but he's confused and frustrated.] And this isn't in my head, and I'm not dying, and we're really some random ass place that looks like Earth. After falling through a tunnel with sentient topiary.

Right. Sure thing. [This is really stressing him out now.] This is making my head hurt.

[He passes a hand over his face.]

I was dying. I was about to be dead. But you - you don't fit. This is too weird to be some kind of crazy death hallucination. It doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel like my brain. If it was my brain having some kind of happy thoughts while it had a nuclear meltdown, there'd be way more beautiful women. [He gestures at their surroundings and the lack of hotties.] Not a half-pint with delusions of grandeur and a fanboy predilection for classical Earth lit.

[Harper's an engineer and his first instinct is to test his new reality.]

The voices, they said - they said I needed this to survive. To avoid dying the way I was gonna die. [His hand goes to the rabbit's foot on the chain at his neck, and after brushing his thumb against it for luck, he lifts it off his neck -- fingers shaking because of the dangers of this little experiment -- and drops it on the ground, trying to test his new reality.]

[Then he feels a familiar stirring in his gut, disgusting as always -- and a familiar pain -- as his bouncing bundles of joy perk up and make their presence known. He suddenly bows over with a groan, dropping to his knees.]

Edited 2018-04-28 09:39 (UTC)

[Harper's words do, for better or worse, kind of sting, and Jon can feel the tears well up a against his will as the future engineer rants.

He's had a really long couple of days, a decent chunk of which wasn't even spent on Earth, much less the right dimension, and this isn't exactly on the top of the things he wanted to do, even if the idea of saving the Green is cool.

And about when Jon's almost ready to yell back, because it's not his fault Harper's life sucks, the man says words that even he can tell is going to result in something really dumb, if he were to go with how Damian would see the whole situation.

And then the rabbit foot on the chain comes up and drops onto the grass, and Harper is groaning in pain before ending up on the ground himself.

Jon is already rushing over the same second, imaginary what-if snark (Damian) and reassurance on what to do (his dad) rattling in his head as he tries to not panic too much.]

Hey! Hey! Are you okay? Hey! Mr. Harper! Don't die! C'mon!

[Where's the rabbit foot, where's the rabbit foot, he does his best to search for it on the ground below; something that would've been easier and faster with his Kryptonian powers, but he's still small and deft enough that getting into a grown man's space to find something that small isn't that hard of a task.]

[His fingers scramble for the rabbit's foot so fast he gets dirt under his nails. Jon tangles out the chain from the grass first and Harper snatches it out of his hand. The moment his fingers touch it again, the painful stirring in his gut stops cold. He puts the chain holding the rabbit's foot back around his neck again, his hands shaking.]

Too many rules. This place is weird in all the wrong ways and there are too many rules. It's too...consistent for something my brain would randomly be spewing out from my neurons singing their swan song. And that actually hurt.

[It had hurt too much, too solidly, with the kind of sharp pain you can't feel in dreams. It's not something where maybe his dying self is having his gut pop open and he's feeling it distantly as he dies - Tyr wouldn't let that happen. He'd kill him cleanly before they hatched, and be a good friend in his weird, murderous way.]

And I sure am taking a long freakin' time to fade away.

[Oh God.]

It's real. This is actually real. [He suddenly looks at Jon as if seeing him for the first time, eyes popping open wide.] Which means you're real. I don't know if the superhero part is - you could just be completely delusional, but you're real.

[He pokes Jon's shoulder to test out that hypothesis.]

You're a real little kid.

[A pause, and then he peers around them.]

A real little kid that doesn't seem to have any parents or guardians around.

[Pure raw horror.]

Oh no, that makes me responsible.

Edited 2018-04-28 10:12 (UTC)

[Maybe he should have taken the Damian route after all, if pain was what he needed to knock him to his senses. The whole thing was pretty scary, and he'd have preferred to skip the 'adult in terrible pain on account of doing something really stupid to themselves'.

But on the topic of 'little kid'...]

I'm not that little. I'm ten and I'm allowed to actually do things by myself. I go out with Robin all the time. [Twice. So far. Three if you count him and the Titans coming back and asking for his help after curfew. But it still counts! This would be a totally different story if he was eight, Harper.]

You don't actually hafta be responsible for me.

["Robin" rings some bells, too, but he's too distracted to place it right now.]

Yes, I do. Ten's ten, even if your superhero thing was true.

[He'd have protested at that age, too, though. He'd already been a little scrapper then, stealing from the Nietzscheans under pain of death and fixing up junk tech, enough that when his parents were killed two years later, he was ready to survive the mean streets of the Boston ghetto without his parents.]

[Harper's not exactly great at empathy and feelings talk but he is at least capable of offering respect, so he offers it, hoping it helps pave things over and make them easier.]

Look, kid, obviously you're pretty brave if you're not freaking the hell out right now - the way even I want to. I remember being your age and I wasn't exactly a slouch in the taking-care-of-myself department.

But even if you having superpowers wasn't pure delusion, you're powerless right now, we're God knows where, and we have no clue what brought us here, where here is, or what could be out there. [He looks around at their surroundings like he's now expecting enemies from every direction.] There could be some very bad people behind this. There could even be Magog prowling around, for all we know.

[He stands up and grabs Jon by the arm, a little too roughly, like he doesn't know how to handle children the gentle way most people do, and starts to lead him again in the direction that was...calling out to them.]

[With his other hand, he pulls out a gun from his belt, not knowing it's useless, and it powers up with a little whine.]

So stay close, okay?

[He has no idea how to handle kids but kids are... they're a precious thing. On Earth. He doesn't need to know how to babysit to protect one.]

Hey!

[Getting grabbed like that actually hurt- not a lot, but still. It's not like he's become completely impervious to pain or even as invulnerable as his dad, but it's been awhile since being grabbed too hard by a normal human being has been a serious contender.]

Leggo of me!

[He twists and yanks, doing his best to work his way out of the grip on his arm.]

Don't drag me around, dammit!

[Eventually, he will apologize for the swear, but not right now.]

Edited 2018-04-28 10:57 (UTC)

Not a chance. Every experience with kids I've ever had - including back when I was one - has told me that kids are squirmy and good at disappearing at the worst time possible.

[Declan and Siobhan had disappeared, panicked and run off into the night, during that one Magog attack, and then...]

[...]

[The kid really does look a lot like Declan. Declan'd had the darkest hair out of all of his cousins, many of whom were blonde like Harper.]

[He relaxes his grip a little, because he doesn't want to hurt the kid, but still keeps a solid hold.]

Look, we're going the same direction anyhow. I just want to make sure we don't get separated, okay? I don't like look of this fog. There's something...freaky about it.

[The fog feels like it's starting to close in, in a way he doesn't like, slowly surrounding them like a trap being sprung. The air is silent, heavy, and chill. His instincts for danger are very finely honed and this whole thing is starting to reek of it.]

Have you heard many scary stories? There's a whole lot of 'em that start with people getting separated and end with some of the characters finding the other characters in parts.

We don't know what kind of story we're in yet.

[He notices something, realizes what has him on edge. There'd been light noises earlier: the chirping of distant birds, the wind through the leaves, the chittering of some kind of bug. But now...]

Listen. What do you hear?

[There's only one possible answer: Nothing.]

[There's dead silence around them. Even on Earth, with its blasted landscape and decaying environment, there are still crickets, still a few birds. And other worlds that are still thriving with life are usually noisier. Even when there aren't the sounds of human suffering, there's always noise when you're planetside. And on ships, there's the constant hum of different systems.]

[Pure and total silence is unnatural. This is the kind of silence that happens only in vacuum, sealed in an EVA suit, and only if airflow and scrubbers are silent enough.]

[Even as Harper is trying to cajole him into obedience, Jon isn't quite a step behind him in catching on to something being off. A place like this isn't supposed to be silent, and if it weren't for the earlier squabble, they would probably have noticed the quiet setting in before this.

Jon's hands ball up into fists, no longer trying to fight against getting loose. At least for now. His shoulders move back a bit as he stands taller, looking around warily.

The fog continues on its encompassing grip on their surroundings, misting and grey.]

This isn't right. We should get moving.

Edited 2018-04-29 05:26 (UTC)

[Harper tugs him along, but it's even gentler now, his way of making sure the fog doesn't separate them. It's even a little...protective now. An unspoken 'I've got you.']

[The kid's...scrappy. Pretty brave for his age. The way he'd jumped to help, scrabbling in the dirt, when Harper'd taken off his rabbit's foot earlier was pretty telling, when it came to his character.]

[Harper stays quiet, listening carefully as they move. The sound of their foot falls in the dirt and grass and gravel seems muffled somehow. It's maybe late afternoon or early evening, judging from where the sun had been before the fog rolled in, but it looks darker with the sun shrouded the way it is. The mist gets colder and damper and before long, their hair is lank and dripping on their foreheads. Harper's clothes start to feel as if they've been misted by a light rain. His face feels sticky because of the hair gel running out of his hair, but he does nothing about it, refusing to let go of either the kid or his gun.]

[They seem to at least be making progress. Whatever unseen force is calling to them makes it feel as if they're getting closer, as if they'll find safety there and they seem to be passing through a valley between the hills. Even in the mists they can see a notch in the hills up ahead, a low-lying path that may let them pass into a place beyond the downs around them. Harper starts tugging Jon along faster, knowing instinctually that that's their way out. But then dark shapes loom out of the mist and Harper looks up in alarm to see that, without realizing it, they've passed beyond two standing stones, like pillars of a headless door.]

I don't remember seeing those before.

[He takes another step forward and darkness seems to fall around them suddenly, making the fog even dimmer, and the stones seem to get swallowed into the fog. Breathing harder, frightened now, Harper tugs Jon along and the ground seems to go uphill, when it'd once been flat. Then the fog opens slightly above them and they can see... stars? There are stars in the inky blackness above, between the tatters of fog and clouds, even though it shouldn't be night yet. The light of these stars is unnatural and cold and the sky is is an inky black that's somehow too dark.]

How's it night-time already?!

[An icy, biting wind suddenly batters them, chilling them to the bone. Then off to the side, they see the fog clear just enough to see a raised mound of earth and stone: a tomb. A burial mound, looming against the unnatural stars.]

[A voice suddenly comes to them, out of the ground, whispering from every direction at once:]

I am waiting for you.

[Harper turns, wheeling himself and Jon around, to try to run back the way they came, to try to find safety back beyond the standing stones, where things had been more normal, but they see a tall dark figure suddenly before them, like a shadow against the stars. They're pierced by two eyes, very cold and lit with a pale light that seems to come from some remote distance].

[Harper tries to shoot the figure with his gun but no bullets come out and he looks at it with horror when he realizes it's not working. Tossing the gun away, he shoves Jon behind him and... ]

[Something deep inside him tells him he can do something else besides shoot bullets. He tries thinking of something warm to fight the cold, one of the warmest things possible: lying sick in a bunk on the Maru, half in Trance's lap with her tail curled around him, wrapped up in warm blankets. She always chattered at him when he wasn't feeling good, and pet his hair, making him feel warm and safe even despite the irritation crawling in his chest or gut or over his skin. Something made of light bursts forth from his fingertips, but it's thin and ephemeral, barely solid. It only briefly puts something between them and the thing.]

[Harper shoves Jon to get him moving. His mouth can be seen moving, like he's shouting, but the words come across as a whisper, from across a great distance.]

Run, kid! I'll hold it off!

[A grip stronger and colder than iron seizes him. The icy touch freezes his bones, and he's gone, falling in Jon's direction, still held partly upright by a death grip on his arm. The figure looms, reaching for Jon next.]

[The whole situation is off-putting, spooky and unsettling, and reminding Jon far too much of the nightmare situation he and Kathy ended up in in the swamp, where while it was happening they weren't sure what was real and what was their imaginations taken for a ride, enhanced by gases coming up from decay under water, and their rescue by Kathy's grandfather answered the question, but in that definitive way grown-ups use to tamp down on questions that didn't leave any room for arguments.

Jon isn't old enough to really have any solid footing for the whole 'metaphysical versus reality' sort of argument yet- he isn't Damian, who would probably boast something about how he already understood this kind of thing when he was six- but he can and does still have an opinion, which is that he doesn't like this sort of thing. The world shouldn't do weird things like that based on people's imaginations or change that way.

And then, the fog isn't so overwhelming, and the sky opens up a bit, and while Harper's question might be about how so much time slipped them by, it's a view that is completely foreign for a kid who's spent his whole life on Earth, a few surprise trips aside.

The sudden wind only compounds on the feeling in his chest, before things bloom into full horror.

Harper's gun doesn't work against the whispering, menace figure in the dark.

Jon can't fight against some kind of terrifying monster, without superpowers he's just a normal kid. He doesn't have that sort of training yet. But he's the one who's supposed to be the superhero, not nervy-seeming Harper who is trying hard but looks like a stiff breeze would knock him over, who shoves himself between Jon and this creature with icey lit eyes, who pushes him away to give Jon a chance to escape, before passing out right in front of Jon when a boney hand grabs the man's arm. He can't even process the Harper's whisper, just staring in horror and guilt.

It feels for a short instant like something warm and bright fizzles just under his skin before flickering out, before a second hand reaches for him, too, and grabs his shoulder, immensely cold even through his jacket and shirt, and it is the last thing he knows before losing consciousness.]

[When Jon awakens, with his back to the cold stone ground, they are underground, in a small tight tomb, with stone walls and tunnel openings that lead off into the dark. There is an eerie, pale, greenish light around them, seemingly coming from nowhere.]

[They have been placed side by side, wrapped tightly in white burial shrouds, adorned almost lovingly with gold and jewels. Circlets ring their heads like they're honored royalty. Around them are mounds of gold and jewels and other grave offerings. A sword lies at each of their sides, like they're fallen warriors, buried together, and a shield lies at each of their feet.]

[A long, cold, unsheathed sword has been placed across both of their necks. Waiting.]

[Harper lies cold and deathly pale next to him. Only the lightest stirrings give clues that he's still alive. His eyes are flickering around under his eyelids, like he's deep in REM sleep, and his lips occasionally move with unspoken words. His dreams are blending things that were and things that weren't together. He sees the enemy coming at night, dreams of having a spear pierce his heart - except it wasn't his heart, was it? He thought it was a pain in his gut instead.]

[They worsted him and pierced his stomach, the men of Carn Dûm - no, the Magog. The Magog of Carn Dûm, screeching in the night, serving the Witch-King and the Dark Lord.]

[His lip move as he tries to call for the warrior that was supposed to be at his side, but two names are on his tongue: Tyr and the name of another, someone he's never met, one of the Dunedain. He finds a name that's true, one he can actually untangle from his dreams of fighting the Witch-king's men. It's almost inaudible, him rasping out:]

Rom. Rommie.

[He has no mother to call for like many dying men do, because he watched his die a long time ago in a pool of her own blood. But Rommie, she's protector, friend, healer, the air he breathes, the embodiment of home. She'd come for him when he'd been stuck to the wall of the Worldship like a prize. She'd come for him and carried him away, and brought him back home where he was safe inside her walls.]

[But she doesn't answer. She isn't coming for him this time.]

[Tears stream from the corners of his eyes as he dreams of Men - Magog - Men of the East crowding him, biting him, clawing him, spearing him in the gut, dragging him back down, down under the Earth, just like before.]

Edited 2018-04-29 12:05 (UTC)

[Coming to is like the aftermath of a nightmare, except in this case, instead of his warm bed, familiar sheets mostly under him, posters on the wall and solar system hanging up above, there's a cold stone beneath him, he's wrapped up, cold gold resting lightly on his head, and a sword at his neck.

Fear and panic hit him in a start, and are just as immediately squashed by a desire to not die and not let Harper die, despite somehow being stuck and he yells in frustration. As he does, he feels that inner warmth and brightness again, and instead of letting it fizzle, he focuses on it with a push and-

A solid golden arc of light pushes outward, loosening the shroud as it flings out, shoving the sword away and a good bit of gold, jewels, and other assorted ends and pieces in its wake.

It doesn't take long for Jon to wriggle out of the shroud, and begin shaking at Harper as hard as he can, trying to unwrap the linens wrapping Harper in the process. Escape now. Figure that out later.]

Wake up!

[That wakes him up. He sits up with a start, squirming free of the remains of the burial shroud, yelping.]

Aah! What? What? Where? Where are the - ?

[But they're alone here. He holds a hand to his stomach, as if feeling for a wound there, and then the hand goes up to the rabbit's foot on its chain, rapidly feeling for it. He lets out a sigh of relief to discover it's still there.]

[Then he sucks in a breath of alarm when he actually looks around to see where they are.]

Uuuh, this is a tomb! We're in a tomb! [There is no universe ever where being put in a tomb by a ghost is a good thing. He pops up to his feet.] We're in a tomb where we were gift-wrapped for death, all nice and pretty. We need to get out of here.

[He starts knocking on the walls, feeling along them, trying to find the one that seems to have the least depth to see if he can start trying to dig them out. They've got swords here, to use for leverage to start moving stones out of the way. He's an engineer. He can figure something out.]

There. This side. This side is the thinnest, probably opens to the outside. You can feel a breeze through the cracks. We just have to damage it enough to get out.

[The stones are piled up in a way that makes it seem like they were the last things piled in to close up the tomb.]

[That's when the singing starts. It's otherworldly. Unworldly. A cold murmur, rising and falling, sometimes high and tired and thin, sometimes like a low murmur from the ground. The words are unclear at first, barely shaping themselves out of the music, but the general impression comes through without them.]

[The night is railing against the morning that forced it away; the cold is cursing the warmth that could replace it.]

[Then the song turns into a chant.]

Cold be hand and heart and bone,
and cold be sleep under stone:
never more to wake on stony bed,
never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead.
In the black wind the stars shall die,
and still on gold here let them lie,
till the dark lord lifts his hand
over dead sea and withered land.

[Harper freezes in place, ice running down his spine. His voice is high and thin.]

I've heard that before. Where have I heard that before?

[But he doesn't have time to worry about it. Around the corner that led into a nearby passage, there's a scraping sound and then a hand walks into the room on its fingers. The arm is thin and pale and the fingers are far too long. It's moving towards the long sword that was laying across their necks.]

[Harper reacts quickly, reflexes honed by years of dodging absolute bullshit, and grabs the sword, bringing it down on the being's arm, chopping off the hand at the wrist. A loud, inhuman screech rends the air and the sword splinters up to the hilt. The decapitated hand twitches in place like a dying spider and the rest of the arm retreats.]

Okay, that was all the heroics I had in me. I'm tapped out!

[There's no way he's chasing after that thing. Harper tosses the splintered sword away and then...something happens. He does something on instinct to try to get them out of this. His body collapses and something blue and translucent and glowing bursts out of it. For a moment it has a vague human form that looks like Harper himself and then it changes to look like some kind of alien manta ray creature. The form fills the room with slightly brighter light than the eerie green, and starts slamming into the wall Harper indicated. It does it carefully, trying to direct all the force to the same point in the center.]

[Harper's body is left on the stone floor. Small gestures, movements like he's trying to get up and look around give away that he's still alive, but he looks like he can barely see what's going on, or do more than move a little bit, like someone barely conscious.]

[It's hard to decide which creeps him out more- the terrible song and chant that made the little hairs on the back of Jon's neck rise up or the horrible skittering hand that went for the sword that was probably supposed to kill them before Harper chopped it in two.

What doesn't help at all is Harper apparently decided to pass out before the glowing thing appeared out of his body and starts smashing itself repeatedly against the wall. He crouches down, shaking Harper, again, before beginning to drag him against the wall farthest from the passageway the hand just came from, without interfering with the glowing magical space manta's work.]

I don't know if you did that on purpose or not or something but passing out again isn't a good idea!

[His spooky magic tolerance has officially been reached and surpassed, and it's starting to become really clear why his Dad isn't fond of the stuff. Punching aliens and bad guys is more straightforward when it isn't a disembodied hand.]

[He blinks his eyes rapidly, like someone that can barely stay conscious, trying to focus on Jon and then the weird blue manta ray form. His brain is having trouble reconciling seeing through both at the same time so it seems like he has to focus more on one or the other. Focusing on his actual eyes makes the manta ray - and his limited vision through it - dim. Focusing on maintaining the ray and seeing through it makes his real vision dim. It seems one or the other, and neither's great while he's doing it.]

S'new. For me. Too.

[The words are almost ground out.]

This. Magical. Crap.

[He stops trying to see through his normal eyes, stops trying to move his body, and the manta ray glows bright, swooping around the room experimentally. It sweeps in close towards the two of them, briefly, and Harper manages to reach a shaking hand up to pass some of his fingers through it. The strange sensation cannot be described but it tells him what he needs to know.]

That's. Me. Somehow. Outside...outside me. At the. Same time.

[It's somehow him, too, like he's split apart from himself - but it still feels attached, feels like it can be drawn back in, once whatever-it-is dissipates.]

No. Freakin'. Clue. How I'm. Doing this.

[The ray starts smashing against the wall again, making genuine progress knocking stones out of the way.]

But I'll. Get. The Door.

[His eyes roll back in his head, like he can barely keep his body conscious, meaning body is helpless in the meantime, which...is not a good thing. The ray can't do everything at once and doesn't have great senses, either.]

[It doesn't see as another arm starts crawling into the room on its fingers. Then, unnaturally fast - fast in a way that's otherworldly and straight out of a goddamn horror movie - the arm stretches, suddenly, unnaturally long. Harper's ankle is the closest thing to it. It grabs. And yanks! Sliding him towards the tunnels and the waiting dark.]

Edited 2018-05-04 09:27 (UTC)

If you say so.

[Jon can only listen in concern, and then watch in fascination as the Harper-manta swoops, and repeatedly smashes, trying to get them free.

If he was keeping a better eye on Harper's actual body, he might have been able to react when the second arm initially made its appearance.

As it stands, he yells in shock when Harper's body begins the not-so-smooth drag away, terrible fingers wrapped around the man's ankle.]

No!

[An immense light bursts outward, with Jon as the center, filtering out as he dives for Harper's arm and ties to dig his feet in.]

[There's a terrible screech that comes from the spaces beyond and the hand lets go and suddenly withdraws. The stone the manta ray is attacking suddenly splits, while the ray has drawn away to bash it again, as if something has magically affected it.]

[The manta ray bashes the cracked stone one last time and the wall falls to rubble that caves outward. The ray withdraws and is sucked back into Harper again. He sits up with a gasp like someone waking out of a nightmare, and has to take a sudden breath or two in, as if he felt like he was being suffocated.]

[That's all the time he gives himself. His eyes on the tunnel that the arm disappeared down, he quickly scrambles to his feet, grabbing Jon by the hand and pulling him towards the little mound of rubble. He looks through first to make sure it's safe, sticking his head out. There doesn't seem to be anything outside which means the greater danger is in the barrow.]

Coast is clear. C'mon, go go go!

[He pushes Jon to go through, his eyes looking fearfully back at the tunnel, trying to get him out safe first.]

Edited 2018-05-23 08:24 (UTC)

[Jon really doesn't need that much urging to run, considering everything that happened since they woke up in there, but he also doesn't have any incentive to let Harper push him on ahead, turning and yanking on Harper's arm in turn when the man tries to shove him out first.]

C'mon! I'm not letting you get grabbed again!

[He isn't sure if he can full off that light show he just did again that made the hand stop in the first place.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cold be hand and heart and bone... [closed to Jon Kent]

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cw: body horror

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cw: mention of mercy killing

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lifting a little prose from Tolkien lol

o lord a hand

o lord another hand

someday, they'll look back on this and... probably have nightmares.

Sorry this took so long, trying to get back in the swing

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