[ Gebura can be counted on not to mince words, forthright, but as much as Yesod appreciates that, he can't help the way his heart sinks to hear what he surmises confirmed aloud. Futile efforts, observing suffering without an end in sight... How familiar it feels claws its way into his throat. The phantom sensation of restraints binding him, not quite a lived memory, pulls his nerves taut and his posture into tensing; he swallows against an inexplicable pang of nausea, eyes closed for a moment.
When he opens them again, he can accept Gebura's offer, even knowing that she extends it for his sake, not the expectation of success achieved through their collaboration. It's sensible to go there together, if he insists on combing through everything he can, leaving no stone unturned. A second perspective will be of help. ]
...I appreciate it, Gebura. I'd like to take another look at the security office, if it remains accessible, and the mannequins.
[ But what lingers well beyond the days behind them isn't tied to the mannequins themselves, or it should be enough to dismiss them as constructs that acted as a sort of bridge to the physical space in which memories could manifest, twisted as needed to produce corresponding simulacra. The memory of Netzach's hands trembling beneath his palms has seeped into his skin — that, the impact of what they can recognize as false but viscerally vivid nonetheless, was real. ]
[ There was no real way to break it to him gently, and she suspects Yesod had already known as much. So she only feels a tiny smattering of guilt when she sees him process her words; he's always far too formal in his posture to sag dramatically or heave a sigh like Malkuth might, but she knows what to look for. Mainly because she understands it, just like all the other Patron Librarians do.
Witnessing and being a part of painful suffering, for some unforeseen purpose. Right now, it makes no sense, for what--but perhaps whoever's doing this thinks differently. Like Ayin had, with nothing, no one, else holding him back.
And she gets it, too. Wanting to make sure nothing was missed. Exactly the reason she'd run into the facility, despite that employee's warning, their insistence that no one else could have survived.
Gebura's sigh is a quiet one. This is going to follow them, whether they like it or not. ]
Let's get it out of the way first, then. Lead the way.
[ In the end, it's as Gebura said, as they knew it would be: like the bank, the mall holds nothing of use. The door leading to the sections of the building supposedly accessible only to employees isn't locked, but the security office is unchanged, with the exception of the screens, no unusual activity captured by the camera system today. Comparing the current placement of knots of yarn fastened to various fixtures, if they haven't disappeared, to the former shifting jumble of impossible corridors is meaningless. A spare mannequin removed from the premises now lies disassembled on the ground like a dismembered body — not a single component is somehow odd.
Rising to his feet a little stiffly, Yesod looks up from the mess to tidy away, intending to thank Gebura for her time. Their surroundings seem muted, dimmed under a layer of grey encroaching on the periphery of his vision, past it. Forced to steady himself, he stretches one hand out for something solid within reach. ]
[ The "something solid" is Gebura, who has already been keeping a watchful eye on him and more or less unceremoniously sticks her arm under his hand, using her free hand to press at his back in case he staggers backwards.
She could say "I told you so", but she's not the gloating type and there's no reason to feel victorious about being right when it just means they don't have any much-needed answers after searching to this extent. It's frustrating, more than anything. ]
I thought you were past the point of overdoing it. Take a breath, Yesod.
[ Mercifully, he stays upright, held in place between Gebura's arm and her other hand. His fingers clutch reflexively at the steady, sturdy surface where they find purchase, fabric against fabric, and although Gebura's voice sounds muffled, he separates her words from the sludge smothering his senses while he inhales a breath of air to fill his lungs until his rib cage no longer feels as though it's constricting around them. He catches hold of the meaning of Gebura's reproach, following it past his own thoughts scattered into disarray, too many sent whirling like a swarm of butterflies and the chill of their fluttering wings. ]
I'm... just a little tired.
[ Thoroughness to ensure that nothing is overlooked, but not to the point that it becomes excessive, a waste of time — that should be the goal. This won't lead to an obsession, he means to convey. They have put the past behind them, and they know not to repeat its mistakes.
What he utters is inadequate for the moment, however, when it has the rough edges of a borrowed excuse that articulates nothing, and it sits there on his tongue like a mouthful of dust. ]
[ It's brusque; she's not going to take no for an answer. It's not quite the way he used to be, hyperfocusing on problems. Cleanliness. Himself and the things he could and couldn't control and it's a bit of a relief that she doesn't have to think about restraining him, for his own good.
He's still not that steady right now, so she eases them both to the floor, against a wall so she can use that arm to pull out a small bottle of water from her jacket pocket. She sets this by his feet so he can grab it when he's able and willing to. ]
Pace yourself. You're one of the few people I don't usually have to worry about.
[ Revulsion for himself slithers down his spine, but he lets his body lean against the wall supporting it, closing his eyes in an effort to piece himself back together. This isn't the Library, where they recover easily once any reception ends; here, days on end of strain have built up to barrel into him with such overwhelming force as soon as the last of his faltering hope gives way, leaving him reeling. The presence of the bottle of water registers distantly.
It occurs to him in a vague notion that he should remove his gloves to assure Gebura that they conceal nothing self-inflicted, that the escalator isn't some absurd lie. His fingers twitch against his palms.
It's pointless to review every moment in the mall now, searching them for missed opportunities for a more effective approach to defending themselves against what they couldn't predict. That amounts to nothing but self-flagellation. Still, accepting that there was nothing else that could have made a difference then, that there is nothing that can be done in the face of the same cycle repeating itself over and over... That's out of the question.
Eventually, making to sit up straighter, Yesod focuses on something else to address. ]
More or less. Not everyone, not immediately after.
[ She hadn't run into Roland or Angela at all, but Netzach...
That had been an experience she'd rather not go through again, to say nothing of what it had done to her coworker. Gebura can relieve her own death over and over and just sort of accept that it is what it is, that was just the past for you. But knowing Netzach hadn't ever harmed Carmen and them both witnessing the distinct opposite... whatever Yesod had been put through...
That irritates her more than anything. She makes no real move to... well, move. Yesod's recovering steadily, but she's in no rush to hurry them out of here until he's genuinely ready to move. ]
[ Yesod reaches for the offered water at last, his hands still too clumsy for his liking as they wrap around the bottle to bring it to his mouth for a sip. It feels cleansing, at least, as if it might rinse away the mud clouding his mind. He lifts his head, regarding Gebura, who has come back into focus, too.
More or less — it's no different for her, then. ]
The roommate arrangements may be particularly beneficial now.
But yeah, probably. We'll see if Angela feels like talking about it, but if nothing else, we're all at least aware that it's happened to pretty much all of us.
[ She's sure of it, that they were all in that mall. ]
Roland and Angela have also pointed that out to me...
[ Yesod's tone matches Gebura's, a sign that these moments inevitably keeping him in one place to rest have helped. The sickly pallor of his skin is improving, and he sets the bottle of water down without difficulty.
It's unpleasant, still, that it was evidently impossible to coordinate any of the measures that he'd contemplated in the mall. ]
I didn't expect to impose on you like this, Gebura. In any case... to tell the truth, I am concerned about Netzach.
[ But Netzach and Roland seem to be good company for each other, which should provide a distraction from their time in the mall as well. ]
[ With a hint of dryness but also some vague curiosity. Netzach in particular, huh... Well, Roland sucks at talking about his problems until he snaps and they have to fight him out of his problems, Angela is much the same but much more defensive about it, and Gebura herself doesn't tend to be troubled by things like this. Annoyed, yes. But not traumatized. ]
If you look at it one way, he's been through worse. [ They all have. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
When he opens them again, he can accept Gebura's offer, even knowing that she extends it for his sake, not the expectation of success achieved through their collaboration. It's sensible to go there together, if he insists on combing through everything he can, leaving no stone unturned. A second perspective will be of help. ]
...I appreciate it, Gebura. I'd like to take another look at the security office, if it remains accessible, and the mannequins.
[ But what lingers well beyond the days behind them isn't tied to the mannequins themselves, or it should be enough to dismiss them as constructs that acted as a sort of bridge to the physical space in which memories could manifest, twisted as needed to produce corresponding simulacra. The memory of Netzach's hands trembling beneath his palms has seeped into his skin — that, the impact of what they can recognize as false but viscerally vivid nonetheless, was real. ]
no subject
Witnessing and being a part of painful suffering, for some unforeseen purpose. Right now, it makes no sense, for what--but perhaps whoever's doing this thinks differently. Like Ayin had, with nothing, no one, else holding him back.
And she gets it, too. Wanting to make sure nothing was missed. Exactly the reason she'd run into the facility, despite that employee's warning, their insistence that no one else could have survived.
Gebura's sigh is a quiet one. This is going to follow them, whether they like it or not. ]
Let's get it out of the way first, then. Lead the way.
a timeskip since they won't find anything
Rising to his feet a little stiffly, Yesod looks up from the mess to tidy away, intending to thank Gebura for her time. Their surroundings seem muted, dimmed under a layer of grey encroaching on the periphery of his vision, past it. Forced to steady himself, he stretches one hand out for something solid within reach. ]
no subject
She could say "I told you so", but she's not the gloating type and there's no reason to feel victorious about being right when it just means they don't have any much-needed answers after searching to this extent. It's frustrating, more than anything. ]
I thought you were past the point of overdoing it. Take a breath, Yesod.
no subject
I'm... just a little tired.
[ Thoroughness to ensure that nothing is overlooked, but not to the point that it becomes excessive, a waste of time — that should be the goal. This won't lead to an obsession, he means to convey. They have put the past behind them, and they know not to repeat its mistakes.
What he utters is inadequate for the moment, however, when it has the rough edges of a borrowed excuse that articulates nothing, and it sits there on his tongue like a mouthful of dust. ]
...I'll clean this up.
no subject
[ It's brusque; she's not going to take no for an answer. It's not quite the way he used to be, hyperfocusing on problems. Cleanliness. Himself and the things he could and couldn't control and it's a bit of a relief that she doesn't have to think about restraining him, for his own good.
He's still not that steady right now, so she eases them both to the floor, against a wall so she can use that arm to pull out a small bottle of water from her jacket pocket. She sets this by his feet so he can grab it when he's able and willing to. ]
Pace yourself. You're one of the few people I don't usually have to worry about.
cw: minor past self-harm allusion
[ Revulsion for himself slithers down his spine, but he lets his body lean against the wall supporting it, closing his eyes in an effort to piece himself back together. This isn't the Library, where they recover easily once any reception ends; here, days on end of strain have built up to barrel into him with such overwhelming force as soon as the last of his faltering hope gives way, leaving him reeling. The presence of the bottle of water registers distantly.
It occurs to him in a vague notion that he should remove his gloves to assure Gebura that they conceal nothing self-inflicted, that the escalator isn't some absurd lie. His fingers twitch against his palms.
It's pointless to review every moment in the mall now, searching them for missed opportunities for a more effective approach to defending themselves against what they couldn't predict. That amounts to nothing but self-flagellation. Still, accepting that there was nothing else that could have made a difference then, that there is nothing that can be done in the face of the same cycle repeating itself over and over... That's out of the question.
Eventually, making to sit up straighter, Yesod focuses on something else to address. ]
...You've spoken with the others?
no subject
[ She hadn't run into Roland or Angela at all, but Netzach...
That had been an experience she'd rather not go through again, to say nothing of what it had done to her coworker. Gebura can relieve her own death over and over and just sort of accept that it is what it is, that was just the past for you. But knowing Netzach hadn't ever harmed Carmen and them both witnessing the distinct opposite... whatever Yesod had been put through...
That irritates her more than anything. She makes no real move to... well, move. Yesod's recovering steadily, but she's in no rush to hurry them out of here until he's genuinely ready to move. ]
no subject
More or less — it's no different for her, then. ]
The roommate arrangements may be particularly beneficial now.
no subject
But yeah, probably. We'll see if Angela feels like talking about it, but if nothing else, we're all at least aware that it's happened to pretty much all of us.
[ She's sure of it, that they were all in that mall. ]
... Feeling a little more clear-headed?
no subject
[ Yesod's tone matches Gebura's, a sign that these moments inevitably keeping him in one place to rest have helped. The sickly pallor of his skin is improving, and he sets the bottle of water down without difficulty.
It's unpleasant, still, that it was evidently impossible to coordinate any of the measures that he'd contemplated in the mall. ]
I didn't expect to impose on you like this, Gebura. In any case... to tell the truth, I am concerned about Netzach.
[ But Netzach and Roland seem to be good company for each other, which should provide a distraction from their time in the mall as well. ]
no subject
[ With a hint of dryness but also some vague curiosity. Netzach in particular, huh... Well, Roland sucks at talking about his problems until he snaps and they have to fight him out of his problems, Angela is much the same but much more defensive about it, and Gebura herself doesn't tend to be troubled by things like this. Annoyed, yes. But not traumatized. ]
If you look at it one way, he's been through worse. [ They all have. ]