[ And true to his word, Yesod arrives before long, though at first it might seem as though another figment of the past has escaped to wander the streets instead. He looks somewhat pale and drawn, darker shadows above his cheekbones and a fading bruise marring one side of his forehead, and his hands are encased in gloves, reminiscent of Gabriel nearing his worst. But there is no lab coat draped about his frame, nor is he wearing a turtleneck sweater — contrasting with the rest of his appearance today, his clothing is immaculately ironed, his hair neatly combed into place.
Upon catching sight of Gebura, reaching her in a few more steps, Yesod greets her with a nod before his gaze travels to the shopping mall's doors. ]
[ Gebura gives him a cursory once-over. She doesn't look like she's been bonked by anything, but there's a faint strain to her expression, as though she's tired or exasperated. Possibly both. It does lighten a little when she returns his nod with one of her own, so it's clearly not Yesod's doing. Otherwise she's as comfy in dark, loose clothing as she usually is. ]
Yeah. Ran into some familiar faces and some not-so-familiar ones. All mannequins, in the end.
Did one of them punch you or something?
[ She is mildly concerned, but Gebura is also not. Well. Tactful. ]
[ Familiar faces... At that, Yesod glances up to look at Gebura again, brow furrowed — first because it's likely that they all had certain apparitions in common, and then because he wasn't prepared for Gebura's question, his thoughts elsewhere. After a moment's pause, he brings his gloved fingertips to the bruising on his skin. ]
...Ah, no. It was one of the escalators.
[ The images at the time, nonsense yet again, didn't leave a mark. Yesod lowers his hand to cross his arms. ]
I had intended to confirm all of our whereabouts, but I suppose the entity behind the mannequins had other plans.
[ It was as if the more anyone tried to mitigate the dangers of what had become a darkened labyrinth, the more the building itself interfered. Now that it seems to be an ordinary structure, does no trace of these events remain inside it? ]
...I assume that you, Netzach, and I saw Carmen among them.
[ Thanks, fake James... At least, no matter how ridiculous that one was, it means more to analyze alongside his colleagues' mannequin encounters. By the sound of it, what Gebura and Netzach were made to endure was particularly cruel. Though Yesod's knowledge is restricted to fragments learned through the filter of secondhand accounts long after the fact, given that Gabriel was no longer alive back then, he can infer that Gebura is referring to the fate of the research facility in the Outskirts.
It makes him frown to the point that it aggravates the stinging around his forehead even as the coil of anger still lodged behind his ribs winds itself tighter. He nods once more, just a brief movement tipping his head downward slightly. ]
...Yes. You relived a real memory, then, whereas Netzach and I did not. Across all of these cases, triggering the visions we experienced seems calculated.
If you keep scowling like that, it's going to aggravate that bruise.
[ She's just going to mildly point that out before she sighs, folding her arms across her chest. ]
From what I picked up, it's not just that it was memories and visions that seemed as vivid as memories. They all involved murder. Either it was us being killed or it was us killing someone else.
So it was not only calculated to happen to everyone, but the subject itself was made to be very specific.
[ Gebura has a point, and while Yesod may have no intention of pretending that he feels perfectly calm, he must keep his emotions in check. Accepting their existence doesn't mean allowing them to rule him — achieving the right balance is a work in progress, he supposes. He blinks, lets his expression smooth out. ]
That is true. I wasn't shown a vision of Gabriel's death, for instance, presumably because that would deviate from the theme.
[ Or more precisely, even if a mannequin taking on Gabriel's form had appeared to reenact the moment of his death by involving Yesod as a symbolic murderer, that wouldn't have had the intended impact. The same possibly doesn't apply to Netzach and his circumstances, however. ]
...I heard that a similar incident occurred at the bank recently. "Alarming memories" were inflicted upon people who opened certain boxes there, as Don Quixote described it.
Apparently, not all of the memories were alarming, but you did kind of reexperience them. I think the worst thing was the urge to talk about them and the fact that even if you didn't fall for the obvious trap, someone else would end up with your item and track you down to give it to you.
[ She sounds tired, just talking about it. ]
Not something you would enjoy. I sure as hell didn't.
[ All of it increasingly sounds like a series of connected experiments, conducted to observe an expanding group of test subjects collected in this controlled environment. That, of course, is not an unfamiliar scenario at all. It would explain how this dimension operates, from the orientation survey to the arrival intervals, the parameters in place and variables introduced — even the periodic disappearances and previous iterations of the same set-up.
But to what end, in this instance? It prompts another frown. ]
Yes, these events are far from enjoyable.
[ Yesod shakes his head. ]
So you and others received a physical item then, as well as associated memories? And people subsequently felt compelled to discuss them.
Right. I'd like to say it's not worth frowning that much about, but I think we can definitely say confidently now that whatever reason we're here for, they're trying to make it far too personal for everyone.
... Kind of like how results were better with stressed employees.
[ Okay, just kidding, she's also frowning pretty deeply. ]
[ Gebura's prediction comes true: Yesod flinches as his body punishes him for his frowning, discomfort pulsing across his brow. They have arrived at an unacceptable conclusion. ]
Precisely...
[ And for all that he means to continue whatever investigations he can with a clear head, when he reflects on what he witnessed in the mall as a spectator, and he recalls discussions of relief not so long ago, it irrationally feels akin to fingers pressing into every bruise, scraping at his skin, digging fruitlessly into his flesh to get at some irritant buried there. He takes a breath, releases it in a sigh. ]
At least we know to take care, but it seems that caution has been insufficient.
Yeah, somehow even when you try to avoid the obvious trap, it comes at you anyway.
[ Gebura studies Yesod briefly for all of five seconds, debates her options, then shrugs and starts walking. He's the kind of guy who needs distractions or to feel productive or he'll start to feel distressed in his own skin. He already looks like he's regretting his own thoughts. ]
So usually the opposite of caution is charging in, but the problem is that we don't even know who or what we're dealing with yet.
[ Falling into step with Gebura, Yesod finds that he can breathe as they walk, not aimlessly, the tightness clamped around his chest easing. It forces him to acknowledge that he hasn't felt well enough to scour the mall or the bank on his own, let alone both — and that discovering nothing to answer the question that Gebura draws to the foreground would worsen it. That turning all of it over in his mind, again and again, in the silence of his borrowed apartment or the empty streets of this city exacerbates it, too. ]
Do you think that it's a waste of time to examine the mall now?
Honestly, yeah. I checked out the bank once things calmed down and there was really nothing I could pick up on it. It's probably going to be the same case here.
That being said, if you want to check it out, don't do it alone. I'll go with you.
[ And maybe that will help. If nothing else, he won't be scouring the entire place on his own. ]
[ 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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ That seems better than suggesting any single location here, he thinks. ]
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not far from the mall right now
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[ And true to his word, Yesod arrives before long, though at first it might seem as though another figment of the past has escaped to wander the streets instead. He looks somewhat pale and drawn, darker shadows above his cheekbones and a fading bruise marring one side of his forehead, and his hands are encased in gloves, reminiscent of Gabriel nearing his worst. But there is no lab coat draped about his frame, nor is he wearing a turtleneck sweater — contrasting with the rest of his appearance today, his clothing is immaculately ironed, his hair neatly combed into place.
Upon catching sight of Gebura, reaching her in a few more steps, Yesod greets her with a nod before his gaze travels to the shopping mall's doors. ]
You were in there as well, weren't you?
no subject
Yeah. Ran into some familiar faces and some not-so-familiar ones. All mannequins, in the end.
Did one of them punch you or something?
[ She is mildly concerned, but Gebura is also not. Well. Tactful. ]
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...Ah, no. It was one of the escalators.
[ The images at the time, nonsense yet again, didn't leave a mark. Yesod lowers his hand to cross his arms. ]
I had intended to confirm all of our whereabouts, but I suppose the entity behind the mannequins had other plans.
[ It was as if the more anyone tried to mitigate the dangers of what had become a darkened labyrinth, the more the building itself interfered. Now that it seems to be an ordinary structure, does no trace of these events remain inside it? ]
...I assume that you, Netzach, and I saw Carmen among them.
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[ He got conked by an escalator?
Well. There are worse things to cause injuries, she supposes, so she shrugs and clarifies his assumption for him. ]
That's right. I also ran into Binah.
... Or I guess Binah ran at me. And it was Garion, but you get the idea.
[ It was Annoying. ]
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It makes him frown to the point that it aggravates the stinging around his forehead even as the coil of anger still lodged behind his ribs winds itself tighter. He nods once more, just a brief movement tipping his head downward slightly. ]
...Yes. You relived a real memory, then, whereas Netzach and I did not. Across all of these cases, triggering the visions we experienced seems calculated.
no subject
[ She's just going to mildly point that out before she sighs, folding her arms across her chest. ]
From what I picked up, it's not just that it was memories and visions that seemed as vivid as memories. They all involved murder. Either it was us being killed or it was us killing someone else.
So it was not only calculated to happen to everyone, but the subject itself was made to be very specific.
no subject
That is true. I wasn't shown a vision of Gabriel's death, for instance, presumably because that would deviate from the theme.
[ Or more precisely, even if a mannequin taking on Gabriel's form had appeared to reenact the moment of his death by involving Yesod as a symbolic murderer, that wouldn't have had the intended impact. The same possibly doesn't apply to Netzach and his circumstances, however. ]
...I heard that a similar incident occurred at the bank recently. "Alarming memories" were inflicted upon people who opened certain boxes there, as Don Quixote described it.
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[ She sounds tired, just talking about it. ]
Not something you would enjoy. I sure as hell didn't.
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But to what end, in this instance? It prompts another frown. ]
Yes, these events are far from enjoyable.
[ Yesod shakes his head. ]
So you and others received a physical item then, as well as associated memories? And people subsequently felt compelled to discuss them.
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... Kind of like how results were better with stressed employees.
[ Okay, just kidding, she's also frowning pretty deeply. ]
I don't see it getting any kinder here.
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Precisely...
[ And for all that he means to continue whatever investigations he can with a clear head, when he reflects on what he witnessed in the mall as a spectator, and he recalls discussions of relief not so long ago, it irrationally feels akin to fingers pressing into every bruise, scraping at his skin, digging fruitlessly into his flesh to get at some irritant buried there. He takes a breath, releases it in a sigh. ]
At least we know to take care, but it seems that caution has been insufficient.
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[ Gebura studies Yesod briefly for all of five seconds, debates her options, then shrugs and starts walking. He's the kind of guy who needs distractions or to feel productive or he'll start to feel distressed in his own skin. He already looks like he's regretting his own thoughts. ]
So usually the opposite of caution is charging in, but the problem is that we don't even know who or what we're dealing with yet.
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Do you think that it's a waste of time to examine the mall now?
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That being said, if you want to check it out, don't do it alone. I'll go with you.
[ And maybe that will help. If nothing else, he won't be scouring the entire place on his own. ]
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.
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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.
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[ 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.
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