[He falters there, searching for the right words.]
It's easy to think you're older than you are. I wouldn't have guessed you were younger than me, and honestly it still feels a little weird to think about. Cultural differences, I guess.
[Hibari and Vriska. Names he sort of recognizes, but that he isn't familiar with; he's making a mental note to change that, to pick up their signatures if he can and make good on what he'd offered.]
The Kree don't really have children, just cadets. If you're old enough to move, you're old enough to fight. If you're old enough to think, you're old enough learn. Sciences, engineering, motor skills. We drill in them as soon as we're out of the pods.
[ He shrugs. His thumbs keep tracing foreign patterns into Ryan's side, lazily. ] If I'd never left Hala, I never would have thought it wasn't the only way to do things. The freedom humans give their children is astounding. Isn't there a danger of poor or uneven socialization?
[...he can't help it, he laughs-- silently, shoulders shaking as he leans against Noh-Varr, holding on to him a bit more tightly.]
Is there a danger of poor socialization, he asks the guy who lived with a bunch of ghosts.
[Breathe. He can't just leave it at that. Ryan inhales, exhales slowly, and manages to still himself.]
There-- there is, yeah. I mean- I haven't had a lot of human contact in my life, not before I got here. They thought that what I can do was just hallucinations, something wrong, my parents homeschooled me because I couldn't just play normal in public. They were trying to protect me, in a way, but... there are so many ways to just sort of-- get separated from the whole, you know? My case was more on the extreme end, but a lot of people just don't quite fit in. They don't connect in the way most humans do with each other.
[Ryan's silent for a moment there, relaxing a little further before he continues, quiet.]
You start wondering if you ever really can, sometimes. Like I said, not really a normal case, but- shit, I'm not even sure I consider myself human anymore. I call myself human, I'm pretty sure I'm thoroughly biologically human, but I keep catching myself saying they instead of we when I talk about them. Human relations are just... chaotic, at best.
[ When Ryan explains, he can't help a pang of...recognition? Sympathy? Either way, he knows that struggle--being separated from the whole and being uncertain of how to get back, or even if you truly want it. ]
Human relations is an oxymoron: your species seems more intent on killing each other than finding ways to cohabitate. [ He breaths out. He loves humans, but they're slow to change. They've been tearing each other down for thousands of years. ]
The Kree believe in unity. A single culture for the whole. The same education, the same rules, the same standard for everyone. It solves a lot of problems. [ He reaches up, brushing Ryan's hair away from his face. ] For what it's worth--I think you're an excellent example of your species. And I'm glad to have met you.
[That-- is a thoroughly unexpected compliment, one that leaves him feeling warm and with a smile on his face that he'd feel was embarrassing if he could see it.]
--glad to have met you too, you know.
[And he's still entirely too full of that pleased feeling, there's nothing to do with it but let it out, and so Ryan tilts his head down to kiss him. Not too intently, not too long; just enough for it to be a warm and affectionate thing.]
...but I know what you mean. About other humans. Why d'you think I focus on helping the dead, and people who aren't part of my species?
[ Ryan's dopey smile echoes in Noh-Varr's chest, and he finds himself returning the kiss, his hand falling to cup Ryan's face, thumbing that smooth jaw. When Ryan pulls away, there's a split second where Noh-Varr moves to pursue, but then abandons the thought when Ryan speaks again. Ryan's humility is something Noh-Varr likes, but the underlying bitterness makes him melancholy. Ryan must have been a lonely child. ]
Humans are one the most creative, diverse species I've ever met--and I used to be part of a crew of intergalactic diplomats, so I don't say that lightly.
[ Propping himself up on his elbows, he hovers over Ryan, his expression fond. ] After all, your species produces individuals like you, or Chidori, or Shepard, or Adrien. They could still surprise you.
[ Gently, he leans down, stealing a second kiss, just as warm and reassuring as the first. ]
[Not just as a child-- Ryan's been a generally lonely person, and this sort of thing is... not new, but something he's never had often. Sometimes there's still a feeling of newness to it though, when it's been long enough, and he welcomes that second kiss with more enthusiasm than he'd given the first. At this rate Noh-Varr is going to get himself all wrapped up in gangly limbs before too long; it's just nice, and Ryan is clearly more reluctant to break away. His words are murmured almost against his companion's mouth.]
Sweet-talker. [There's a breathy laugh with that.] I hope they do, later. Who knows, maybe eventually they'll believe.
For now though-- [He reaches up to lightly poke his friend's nose with a fingertip. Boop. This is what you get for kissing a huge dork, Noh.] I believe I owe you another kiss for that.
[ He obviously doesn't mind being tangled; in fact, his own body is almost entirely dense muscle and as such, Ryan's skinny limbs will find decent padding. As tempted as he is by that offer of another kiss, there's something that tempts him further-- ]
Mmm, you do. [ His nose wrinkles at the boop. Really, Ryan? ] But I think you also promised to show me your tattoos.
[ His tone of voice isn't actually all that suggestive, despite their position. One of his hands reaches up, tugging gently at the neckline of Ryan's shirt collar. ]
[He's quick to place a hand over Noh-Varr's, enough so that it's clearly more reflexive than anything; Ryan relaxes a moment later with a slightly sheepish smile, though, shifting away so that he's sitting faced away from him as he starts to undo the buttons.]
Just let me get this out of the way, yeah? They're mostly toward the back, [he says to explain, hoping that covers it. Noh doesn't actually need Ryan to face him to see the tattoos, and he can easily just use the shirt to keep his chest covered once he's shed it. The ink, he doesn't mind showing off. The mark left behind from the spirit that passed through him, though, he's more self conscious about.]
[ Ryan isn't a small person by any means, but he's skinny, and the tattoos seem to take up a disproportionate amount of space on his thin frame, by Noh-Varr's standards. He reaches a finger towards Ryan's back, hovering over the white bird. He almost asks if he may, but decides against it. He isn't usually so cautious, especially not with touch like this, but these tattoos are meaningful to Ryan, and he wants to treat them--and their owner--with the care they deserve.
His fingers trace the edge of the white bird's head, the beak, the beady eye, then down to the wing. He looks at the book. what is its title? ]
[He can't help the small, reflexive shiver that runs down his spine when Noh-Varr's fingers trace along the tattoo; it's not often that he leaves more skin bared than usual, and the feeling is one he hasn't been used to lately. Ryan absolutely isn't complaining, though, and after a moment he's managed to relax more thoroughly. On close inspection, the book the white raven's perching on is a collection of Poe's poems- it seemed thematically appropriate.]
With the birds-- ravens, in a lot of myths, are bad omens. Signs of death, though in a couple other myths they're tricksters or creators. They're actually really highly intelligent birds, though, they can solve problems and manipulate other scavengers into helping them feed, that kind of thing.
[His tone's awfully fond, really.]
So I picked them for the intelligence and associations with death. That one's white to go along with one particular myth that they're actually souls.
[ Noh-Varr knows that Edgar Allan Poe's most famous work has something to do with a raven, and not much else, so he nods along to Ryan's words, his fingers tracing to the shoulder with Death. That one seems simple enough. The other one, and he has to encourage Ryan to tilt his body a bit to see it better, is the Tower, which he isn't at all familiar with. ]
A tower? [ A beat, then, perhaps a little wryly: ] More death?
[ He understands it's meaningful to someone with long experience ferrying people from one world to the next; in a sense, what Ryan can do isn't so far removed from America Chavez's dimension-hopping powers. But it still strikes him as...grim. Noh-Varr doesn't think of Ryan as a bad omen; it hasn't completely occurred to him that Ryan might think of himself that way. ]
They're tarot cards- used for divination, if you're not familiar. I managed to bring my deck when I signed on if you want me to show you sometime.
[Another thing he only rarely shows others. Card-reading is the one real superstitious activity he allows himself, and only because it's worked; sure, he'll also claim his cards are assholes to him, but if they weren't then he'd be suspicious about whether the results were accurate.]
The Death card doesn't exactly symbolize it literally, either. It just means an end to something, it's a metaphorical death, you know? And the Tower is--
[There he has to pause, fumbling for the words.]
It's another thing people see as a bad sign, destruction, but that's not all it is. It's chaos and disruption and change. And that's not necessarily for the worst, yeah?
[And, given those explanations, Noh-Varr might be able to guess why Ryan is attached to those cards in particular. It's very similar to his feelings about death in general, really: something people fear, see as a negative thing, when in all honesty it's not so bad. There's more depth than the ill omens people see when they look at them; ends mean new beginnings, change is complex.]
Divination. [ He tries to keep the huff of amusement out of his voice, but doesn't entirely succeed. He's seen Loki 'divinate' before, and it wasn't impressive. But he sits still and listens to Ryan explain, continues to trace the outlines of the marks in the skin. He understand what Ryan is driving at, even if he doesn't quite get the need to stamp all this symbolism so permanently. Death is something Ryan feels strongly about, which is understandable, given his
Gently, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of Ryan's nape, pushing the messy tumble of hair out of the way. ]
Adaptability is a form of strength. [ It's spoken in a murmur as he pulls back, finger now trailing the line of Ryan's spine. ]
[That kiss gets a low hum from him, a contented little murmur of a sound, as his head tilts forward to better expose the nape of his neck to Noh-Varr's mouth. Although Ryan still holds his discarded shirt to his chest to cover it, he's more relaxed by now, not so aware of the exposure anymore; what he is more aware of is the sensation of breath against his neck before Noh-Varr pulls back, and of the shivers that run down his spine and make his bare skin prickle when that line is traced.]
Ah-
... yeah, that's-- that's the practical one. [There's a soft breath of a laugh, almost sheepish, at the way he trips over the words at first.] Mentioned my artist friend is a mage, right? The runes are a ward against possession and malevolent spirits, they're just... only effective to a certain point.
[They're definitely more than just ink, though. As Noh-Varr's touch trails over them he might notice they feel warmer than the surrounding skin, and that they almost seem to thrum beneath the pad of his finger in a slow, steady rhythm.]
[ His fingers reach forward and gently walk up and down Ryan's ribcage, testing. He admires the runes, the way they warm his skin like embers. ]
What's the 'certain point'?
[ Ryan's file describes him as a 'functional point of crossover', and Noh-Varr isn't certain if that's in a figurative sense--that it's easy for spirits to communicate with him--or in a more literal way, that his body is easily taken.
The second option strikes a chord inside of him, but he says nothing. Ryan can't see the way his mouth thins at the thought. ]
They discourage really weak ones, basically, but- well. Hard to make anything strong enough to counter my nature. We kind of hoped they'd be a good ward against possession.
[He's told very few here that he has no defense against it, largely because it's such a huge weakness to anything capable of exploiting that. No way to prevent his body being taken, no mental defenses either-- the wrong person could do a lot of damage if they realized the opportunity, and his own weaknesses are not something Ryan likes to dwell on. He's a little more tense, again, and his posture has subtly shifted to where he's close to curling in on himself.]
Fortunately a lot of spirits are pretty weak, though. These help.
Noh-Varr's arms wrap around Ryan's middle in earnest, low enough to stay clear of Ryan's own arms tucked up to his chest. He folds back into a seating position, bringing his knees up on either side so that Ryan can recline into him. ]
Have you been possessed before...? If I can ask--what is it like?
[ He wants to know, even if it's painful, even if it's too similar. People who know, who understand, are rare. ]
[Ryan takes that opportunity without a second thought- leaning into him is comfortable, having his arms around him even more so, and he breathes out a content little sigh as he settles.]
I have, yeah- used to do it a lot, with the ones that lived with me. That I trusted. Couple of them missed having bodies, being able to actually interact with things, and-- well, and I hated running errands, it worked out.
[There's an amused touch to his tone, though it quickly fades when he continues.]
It's like-- being stuck in your own head. Seeing everything through your own eyes, like always, only you can't do anything, you don't have any control... you're just sort of a passenger, I guess. Never minded it much when I allowed it, I'd kind of tune out for a while, but when you don't allow it--
[No further explanation needed, really. It's more than a little terrifying.]
[ Can Ryan feel the way he tenses in time to the explanation? The reflexive tightness in his belly, in sympathy? He lets Ryan finish, lets a minute stretch between them as he pets Ryan's hair, reclines himself into the pillows. ]
When I was in prison, I--found out, if you will, that illegal aliens don't have rights in the United States of America. [ There's a kernel of laughter in his voice, because it's a double-entendre on the word 'aliens' that he thinks Ryan will be able to appreciate. ] The Warden of that place, he hacked my nanites.
[ He lets that sink in. ]
When he wasn't--using me, for security or for defense, he kept me in a tank, or in my cell, in solitary.
[ His voice remains calm and neutral, as he recounts what are now painful memories, but only that--memories. ]
To be in your body, but not inhabiting it--I know what that's like. You're braver than I to offer it.
[ He holds Ryan close. He's never told anyone that. ]
[The way he tenses doesn't go unnoticed-- and he'll find it matched as Ryan listens, finding one of Noh-Varr's hands and covering it with his own in a silent, empathetic gesture. Much as he hopes that it's an experience very few others share, it's... nice to know he's not alone in it, in all honesty. People like to think of possession as the sort of thing you're not aware of, and he likes to just let them.
When Noh's finished, Ryan shifts slightly in his arms, the need to stay covered forgotten as he turns to the side so that he can slide an arm around him in return. Clearly he's used to being a bit of a human pretzel, given how much taller he tends to be-- when he rests his head on the Kree's shoulder, nudges affectionately up against the curve of his neck, it's an easy shift despite the bit of awkwardness involved in making it work.]
...much as I'd rather you didn't understand, I'm- kind of glad somebody does. It's bad enough to deal with, but having to try to explain some parts of that-- you know what I mean. I'm sorry you do.
[The rest-- the rest comes out before he can really reconsider.]
It's how I died, that last time. Something using me to get through from the other side. Kind of the equivalent of forcing the door off the hinges when someone won't unlock it for you.
[ The comfort found in sharing is mutual, then. Noh-Varr lets Ryan turn, saying nothing when the sharp angles of the other man's body dig into him. It pays off when Ryan tucks his head into the crook of his neck. From this angle, with Ryan's chest half-facing him, he can see that the t-shirt is being held up, as if to preserve some modesty. But Ryan doesn't have breasts, which are typically hidden by human girls; is there another tattoo there that Ryan is trying to hide? Noh-Varr doesn't press, instead dropping a kiss against the human's hair. ]
I'm sorry as well. [ He doesn't quite get the analogy Ryan is attempting to make, with the door flying off its hinges, so he tries to clarify: ] It is physically painful for you, possession, or was it only in that specific instance? Or do you mean you succumbed to overwhelming psychic pain?
...both, I think? I can- well, they can touch me, too, when they're intangible to everyone else. So using me to cross from where it was trapped, to occupy the same space as other spirits-- when I said it went through I was being literal.
[One hand reflexively goes to his chest, as though there were a physical pang at the explanation; there never is, but the motion is entirely thoughtless, instinctive.]
It doesn't hurt unless it's forced, and in that case- it was crossing a barrier it wasn't meant to. Had to break through.
[ He nods, and he certainly doesn't miss the gesture Ryan makes. When he reaches to cover Ryan's hand with his own, it's much more deliberate, and slow, the gesture itself asking for permission. He doesn't move to actually pull Ryan's shirt away, merely hovering his hand over the one holding it up. ]
You were brave. To keep going after that.
[ And he can respect that. When the Warden had been controlling him, he'd been aware mostly of constant, mind-numbing pain, all of his nanites attacking him from the inside-out, until he was reduced to a shell, barely lucid, making himself a home out of pain. Anything to keep himself going. ]
[His hand tenses noticeably beneath Noh-Varr's, but he doesn't move to push his hand away or to allow him permission to go any further; for the moment, his own remains still.]
I didn't want to let that ruin it. Part of my job was helping spirits communicate if they needed it, I couldn't just- stop, like that. And it helped sort of-- remind me it wasn't always like that, I guess, that the rest of the time it was fine. Took the edge off a little.
[Ryan takes in a slow, steady breath, exhales it in the same way, and then glances up to him with a somewhat uncertain look.]
You probably don't want to know. [He figures Noh can tell what he means, but the little twitch of his fingers clinging to the fabric makes it more clear regardless. It's weird, and he'd been weirded out by finding out about Ryan's sense in the first place.]
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[He falters there, searching for the right words.]
It's easy to think you're older than you are. I wouldn't have guessed you were younger than me, and honestly it still feels a little weird to think about. Cultural differences, I guess.
[Hibari and Vriska. Names he sort of recognizes, but that he isn't familiar with; he's making a mental note to change that, to pick up their signatures if he can and make good on what he'd offered.]
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The Kree don't really have children, just cadets. If you're old enough to move, you're old enough to fight. If you're old enough to think, you're old enough learn. Sciences, engineering, motor skills. We drill in them as soon as we're out of the pods.
[ He shrugs. His thumbs keep tracing foreign patterns into Ryan's side, lazily. ] If I'd never left Hala, I never would have thought it wasn't the only way to do things. The freedom humans give their children is astounding. Isn't there a danger of poor or uneven socialization?
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Is there a danger of poor socialization, he asks the guy who lived with a bunch of ghosts.
[Breathe. He can't just leave it at that. Ryan inhales, exhales slowly, and manages to still himself.]
There-- there is, yeah. I mean- I haven't had a lot of human contact in my life, not before I got here. They thought that what I can do was just hallucinations, something wrong, my parents homeschooled me because I couldn't just play normal in public. They were trying to protect me, in a way, but... there are so many ways to just sort of-- get separated from the whole, you know? My case was more on the extreme end, but a lot of people just don't quite fit in. They don't connect in the way most humans do with each other.
[Ryan's silent for a moment there, relaxing a little further before he continues, quiet.]
You start wondering if you ever really can, sometimes. Like I said, not really a normal case, but- shit, I'm not even sure I consider myself human anymore. I call myself human, I'm pretty sure I'm thoroughly biologically human, but I keep catching myself saying they instead of we when I talk about them. Human relations are just... chaotic, at best.
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Human relations is an oxymoron: your species seems more intent on killing each other than finding ways to cohabitate. [ He breaths out. He loves humans, but they're slow to change. They've been tearing each other down for thousands of years. ]
The Kree believe in unity. A single culture for the whole. The same education, the same rules, the same standard for everyone. It solves a lot of problems. [ He reaches up, brushing Ryan's hair away from his face. ] For what it's worth--I think you're an excellent example of your species. And I'm glad to have met you.
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--glad to have met you too, you know.
[And he's still entirely too full of that pleased feeling, there's nothing to do with it but let it out, and so Ryan tilts his head down to kiss him. Not too intently, not too long; just enough for it to be a warm and affectionate thing.]
...but I know what you mean. About other humans. Why d'you think I focus on helping the dead, and people who aren't part of my species?
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Humans are one the most creative, diverse species I've ever met--and I used to be part of a crew of intergalactic diplomats, so I don't say that lightly.
[ Propping himself up on his elbows, he hovers over Ryan, his expression fond. ] After all, your species produces individuals like you, or Chidori, or Shepard, or Adrien. They could still surprise you.
[ Gently, he leans down, stealing a second kiss, just as warm and reassuring as the first. ]
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Sweet-talker. [There's a breathy laugh with that.] I hope they do, later. Who knows, maybe eventually they'll believe.
For now though-- [He reaches up to lightly poke his friend's nose with a fingertip. Boop. This is what you get for kissing a huge dork, Noh.] I believe I owe you another kiss for that.
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Mmm, you do. [ His nose wrinkles at the boop. Really, Ryan? ] But I think you also promised to show me your tattoos.
[ His tone of voice isn't actually all that suggestive, despite their position. One of his hands reaches up, tugging gently at the neckline of Ryan's shirt collar. ]
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Just let me get this out of the way, yeah? They're mostly toward the back, [he says to explain, hoping that covers it. Noh doesn't actually need Ryan to face him to see the tattoos, and he can easily just use the shirt to keep his chest covered once he's shed it. The ink, he doesn't mind showing off. The mark left behind from the spirit that passed through him, though, he's more self conscious about.]
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His fingers trace the edge of the white bird's head, the beak, the beady eye, then down to the wing. He looks at the book. what is its title? ]
Explain to me. The meaning.
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With the birds-- ravens, in a lot of myths, are bad omens. Signs of death, though in a couple other myths they're tricksters or creators. They're actually really highly intelligent birds, though, they can solve problems and manipulate other scavengers into helping them feed, that kind of thing.
[His tone's awfully fond, really.]
So I picked them for the intelligence and associations with death. That one's white to go along with one particular myth that they're actually souls.
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A tower? [ A beat, then, perhaps a little wryly: ] More death?
[ He understands it's meaningful to someone with long experience ferrying people from one world to the next; in a sense, what Ryan can do isn't so far removed from America Chavez's dimension-hopping powers. But it still strikes him as...grim. Noh-Varr doesn't think of Ryan as a bad omen; it hasn't completely occurred to him that Ryan might think of himself that way. ]
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[Another thing he only rarely shows others. Card-reading is the one real superstitious activity he allows himself, and only because it's worked; sure, he'll also claim his cards are assholes to him, but if they weren't then he'd be suspicious about whether the results were accurate.]
The Death card doesn't exactly symbolize it literally, either. It just means an end to something, it's a metaphorical death, you know? And the Tower is--
[There he has to pause, fumbling for the words.]
It's another thing people see as a bad sign, destruction, but that's not all it is. It's chaos and disruption and change. And that's not necessarily for the worst, yeah?
[And, given those explanations, Noh-Varr might be able to guess why Ryan is attached to those cards in particular. It's very similar to his feelings about death in general, really: something people fear, see as a negative thing, when in all honesty it's not so bad. There's more depth than the ill omens people see when they look at them; ends mean new beginnings, change is complex.]
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Gently, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of Ryan's nape, pushing the messy tumble of hair out of the way. ]
Adaptability is a form of strength. [ It's spoken in a murmur as he pulls back, finger now trailing the line of Ryan's spine. ]
Is this the practical one?
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Ah-
... yeah, that's-- that's the practical one. [There's a soft breath of a laugh, almost sheepish, at the way he trips over the words at first.] Mentioned my artist friend is a mage, right? The runes are a ward against possession and malevolent spirits, they're just... only effective to a certain point.
[They're definitely more than just ink, though. As Noh-Varr's touch trails over them he might notice they feel warmer than the surrounding skin, and that they almost seem to thrum beneath the pad of his finger in a slow, steady rhythm.]
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What's the 'certain point'?
[ Ryan's file describes him as a 'functional point of crossover', and Noh-Varr isn't certain if that's in a figurative sense--that it's easy for spirits to communicate with him--or in a more literal way, that his body is easily taken.
The second option strikes a chord inside of him, but he says nothing. Ryan can't see the way his mouth thins at the thought. ]
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[He's told very few here that he has no defense against it, largely because it's such a huge weakness to anything capable of exploiting that. No way to prevent his body being taken, no mental defenses either-- the wrong person could do a lot of damage if they realized the opportunity, and his own weaknesses are not something Ryan likes to dwell on. He's a little more tense, again, and his posture has subtly shifted to where he's close to curling in on himself.]
Fortunately a lot of spirits are pretty weak, though. These help.
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Noh-Varr's arms wrap around Ryan's middle in earnest, low enough to stay clear of Ryan's own arms tucked up to his chest. He folds back into a seating position, bringing his knees up on either side so that Ryan can recline into him. ]
Have you been possessed before...? If I can ask--what is it like?
[ He wants to know, even if it's painful, even if it's too similar. People who know, who understand, are rare. ]
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I have, yeah- used to do it a lot, with the ones that lived with me. That I trusted. Couple of them missed having bodies, being able to actually interact with things, and-- well, and I hated running errands, it worked out.
[There's an amused touch to his tone, though it quickly fades when he continues.]
It's like-- being stuck in your own head. Seeing everything through your own eyes, like always, only you can't do anything, you don't have any control... you're just sort of a passenger, I guess. Never minded it much when I allowed it, I'd kind of tune out for a while, but when you don't allow it--
[No further explanation needed, really. It's more than a little terrifying.]
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When I was in prison, I--found out, if you will, that illegal aliens don't have rights in the United States of America. [ There's a kernel of laughter in his voice, because it's a double-entendre on the word 'aliens' that he thinks Ryan will be able to appreciate. ] The Warden of that place, he hacked my nanites.
[ He lets that sink in. ]
When he wasn't--using me, for security or for defense, he kept me in a tank, or in my cell, in solitary.
[ His voice remains calm and neutral, as he recounts what are now painful memories, but only that--memories. ]
To be in your body, but not inhabiting it--I know what that's like. You're braver than I to offer it.
[ He holds Ryan close. He's never told anyone that. ]
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When Noh's finished, Ryan shifts slightly in his arms, the need to stay covered forgotten as he turns to the side so that he can slide an arm around him in return. Clearly he's used to being a bit of a human pretzel, given how much taller he tends to be-- when he rests his head on the Kree's shoulder, nudges affectionately up against the curve of his neck, it's an easy shift despite the bit of awkwardness involved in making it work.]
...much as I'd rather you didn't understand, I'm- kind of glad somebody does. It's bad enough to deal with, but having to try to explain some parts of that-- you know what I mean. I'm sorry you do.
[The rest-- the rest comes out before he can really reconsider.]
It's how I died, that last time. Something using me to get through from the other side. Kind of the equivalent of forcing the door off the hinges when someone won't unlock it for you.
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I'm sorry as well. [ He doesn't quite get the analogy Ryan is attempting to make, with the door flying off its hinges, so he tries to clarify: ] It is physically painful for you, possession, or was it only in that specific instance? Or do you mean you succumbed to overwhelming psychic pain?
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[One hand reflexively goes to his chest, as though there were a physical pang at the explanation; there never is, but the motion is entirely thoughtless, instinctive.]
It doesn't hurt unless it's forced, and in that case- it was crossing a barrier it wasn't meant to. Had to break through.
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You were brave. To keep going after that.
[ And he can respect that. When the Warden had been controlling him, he'd been aware mostly of constant, mind-numbing pain, all of his nanites attacking him from the inside-out, until he was reduced to a shell, barely lucid, making himself a home out of pain. Anything to keep himself going. ]
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I didn't want to let that ruin it. Part of my job was helping spirits communicate if they needed it, I couldn't just- stop, like that. And it helped sort of-- remind me it wasn't always like that, I guess, that the rest of the time it was fine. Took the edge off a little.
[Ryan takes in a slow, steady breath, exhales it in the same way, and then glances up to him with a somewhat uncertain look.]
You probably don't want to know. [He figures Noh can tell what he means, but the little twitch of his fingers clinging to the fabric makes it more clear regardless. It's weird, and he'd been weirded out by finding out about Ryan's sense in the first place.]
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wtf I know I wrote a response to this yesterday
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