thisavrou_log | First prompt [OPEN]; second prompt [CLOSED TO WILLIAM]

First prompt [OPEN]; second prompt [CLOSED TO WILLIAM]

Who: Deacon and William; Deacon and OPEN
When: A few days after the battle with the Caducans
Where: Around Moira and Nomo 001 (William's room)
What: An evil demon mask is causing problems. Also, Deacon lies too much.
Warnings:References to prior violence

[A: OPEN]

[He's been having nightmares every fucking time he tries to sleep. He blames it on what happened with the Caducans. Sure, that wasn't the first time he's seen an op go sour, people get killed, but this wasn't an op, it was a massacre. There should have been a way to avoid it. Shoulda coulda woulda.

As a general rule, Deacon tries not to dwell on the past. Thinking too much about shit that went wrong is a one-way trip to crazy town and losing yourself in booze or chems of the barrel of a gun, desperately trying to escape bitterness and regret in the face of a harsh and unfair universe. It’s fucking hard, though, when it feels like the memories are actively chasing him. Sometimes when it’s quiet he swears he can hear his wife’s voice, even though she’s been dead for over twenty years now.

For the third time this week he wakes up in a cold sweat. He gives up on sleep and throws on a Moira uniform to wander the hallways restlessly and as anonymously as he can in the small community of the ship, hoping to find some booze and a quiet corner amidst the wreckage of glass.]

[B: CLOSED TO WILLIAM]

[During one of his sleepless excursions, Deacon knocks on the door of William’s room. Shades hide the dark circles under his eyes and his wig covers the red stubble on his head. He usually sleeps during the day, so he’s not worried about waking William’s roommates.]

Room service!

[He calls out in a bright and chipper voice.]

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[William had been sitting on his bed with the dog reading one of the comic books that he got in the mail - specifically a Grognak comic - when he heard the knock on the door and the familiar voice. Dogmeat is quick to dive off the bed and over to the door, barking and clawing at it, his owner trailing behind.

When he opens it he feigns annoyance.]

Oh, there you are. I was just going to call your supervisor and complain about the lack of mints on my pillow.

All out of mints, pal. Sorry.

[He strolls in without waiting for an invitation, patting Dogmeat on the head as he passes.]

I think I've got a couple of bullet casings in my pocket, though. That's close, right? Oo, Grognak!

[He makes himself at home on William's bed, wrinkling the bedclothes rather than tidying them.]

[As Deacon moves right by him:] Oh hey, come in by the way. Mi casa es su casa.

[It's not like William was going to tidy up anything himself. The room already looks like a wastelander lives here. Dogmeat meanwhile just pads around Deacon excitedly and joins him on the bed. Yes everyone just make yourselves comfortable.]

No spoilers by the way, I've barely started reading.

[Deacon immediately flips towards the back of the comic.]

Aw man, the AntAgonizer kills Grognak? Shit!

[The page he's looking at doesn't have the AntAgonizer at all. There's just Grognak on one knee before a red-haired woman scantily clad in, like, totally impractical chain mail.]

So, I've gotta ask, future me has been friends with you for a couple months now, yeah? Future me still lies basically all the time, right?

[There's actually a moment when William looks like he's about to have a heart attack, then realizes who he's talking to and visibly relaxes. Don't joke like that.]

Ha, very funny.

[He takes a seat on the bed as well, patting Dogmeat on the head and raises his brow at the question.]

Uh, future you pretty much lies as much as present you, yeah.

And you're, like, totally okay with that? With me lying to you all the time? I could be an Institute mole under deep cover, or an Enclave war criminal who fled the Capital Wasteland, or a former raider leader who decapitated enemies and ate babies, or a mime who fucked up and started talking and couldn't shut up.

[He sets the Grognak comic down and scratches Dogmeat's rump.]

Most people get kinda tired of it after a while.

[William isn't sure what brought this on but it's surprising, to say the least. He can't help but look at Deacon as if he suddenly grew extra limbs, but the look lasts only a moment.]

Okay, I'm not gonna lie [pointed, but teasing look] and say that it doesn't sometimes get tiring, but...

[He trails off, unsure of how to explain it, before shrugging his shoulders and continuing.]

I trust you enough to know you're not any of those things. We've fought together, we took down the Institute together, took down the a goddamn armored brotherhood ship - I think by now I know that you're not a baby eating mime. Besides, you like to help people, it's one of the reasons I haven't killed you yet.

[He was being too serious for a moment there.]

...

Maybe I'm a remorseful baby eating mime, trying to make up for my old silent, baby-eating ways. What then, huh? I could backslide at any moment. Good thing you're not a baby. Or an invisible wall.

[Okay, maybe getting off topic there. Or avoiding the topic more like. He does that. Even when he brought up the topic to begin with.]

Most people, when they make a friend, they want to feel like they know who it is they're friends with.

Yeah, you could be all those things, and if you are then I guess they'll be egg on my face, huh?

What's this all about, anyway?

[Because it's easier to ask than to sit here and explain why he trusts and even considers a pathological liar a friend.]

Did you know I got kicked out of HQ once for, like, a year? Yeah, I showed up as a ghoul and it kind of freaked people out.

Also, the boss said I was lying too much.

[Still sort of evading the question. Come on, Deacon, make a true, factual statement about the topic at hand.]

I maybe pissed some people off. People I was sort of kind of feeling out as friends.

[It's fine, man. William will just sit here and stare until Deacon says something that could possibly maybe be construed as the truth. And when he does, William's brows arch in surprise.

Not surprise in Deacon pissing someone off, of course. That's to be expected. Just surprised now that he's putting it all together.]

Well, it was only a matter of time, wasn't it? [William is helpful.] I imagine one of your silly white lies isn't what pissed them off, is it?

[Because Deacon's lies were mostly bullshit and easy to see through. Sure, that could piss someone off, but enough that Deacon is here having this conversation to him? Must have been a bigger one.]

It was the synth thing. I kept the tragic story of synth-y Deacon going for months and a couple of people aren't too happy about that. They had decided to open up and confess some of their close guarded secrets to little old me and I think they feel kind of betrayed that all I confessed in return was bullshit.

[ She's more active at night by a general rule, but since she's been taking the supplements from the captains, her sleeping hours have been off by far. Being able to go out in sunlight for even a short amount of time is a miracle, one she's too grateful, even if it means she's lost the 'normalcy' of an eight or ten hour sleep during the day. She's finished her shift in the medbay, still overused from the injuries and deaths they've suffered, and has found herself a little corner of the observation deck to sit by herself, earbuds in, and listen to music while she looks at what's left of their little carnage hole. What a fucking crazy couple of days.

Not many people are up and those that are aren't doing much, maybe working. Not skulking the halls. She's a little surprised when an aura comes into view, more so when she realizes who it is. Ava's still frustrated, less so than a few days ago now that the intrusive thoughts are mostly gone, but she doesn't ignore him when he passes by. ]

There's this thing called "sleeping" that people do at this time of night. You know, when it's dark, it's time to lay down? Or is it super backwards in your time?

[Deacon hadn't spoken to Ava since she rescued him from the Caducan ship. Like a total coward, he'd been avoiding her, afraid of seeing scorn and betrayal in her eyes, but it's a small ship and it's hard to avoid someone forever. He doesn't want to take the cowardly way out, but it's what he does. He runs, he hides, he lies. He's afraid of facing consequences.

He tenses nervously when his insomniac path crosses Ava's, but she's speaking to him so that's already not as bad as it could be.

He has a casual lie on the tip of his tongue to reply, a harmless, playful lie (about radiation glow making people stay up late because there's plenty of light) but under the circumstances he'd better try to avoid lying.]

Daylight is way more bright than it needs to be. And because I grew up underground, I burn super easy.

[Shit. Not what he meant to say.]

Uh...snipers. Out in the open, in daylight, I'd be an easy target for snipers.

[ What is that, part-lie and part-joke? Ava doesn't know what to make of it, both eyebrows lifting with skepticism. She reaches up to remove her earbuds and turn off her player, pocketing both so she can focus solely on Deacon. ]

You really can't stop yourself, can you?

[ It's not exactly a condemnation. Now that she knows, now that Deacon's told her, everything he says has been put in a different light. She doesn't know if she can trust anything he says. ]

The daylight thing-- Can't contest that. Being, you know, me. And I wish I could say I believe the underground comment. The sniper thing...that, I can sort of see.

[ Railroad business and all. He told her that much was true. Ava folds her arms over her chest. ]

That's your life, right? With the Railroad. You said that part isn't a lie.

I don't even know why I do it. Okay, sometimes I do it because it's funny. And sometimes because it's my job. But most of the time, it's because I just don't know how not to any more.

[He rocks back on his heels and swings his arms nervously.]

The Railroad wasn't a lie. You saw the Museum. Can't fake that.

I used to use the synth lie as, like, a recruitment tool. Part of my job was to feel people out, see who might be willing to join the cause. So I'd talk to someone, get to know what made them tick, be friendly, buy them a few drinks so they couldn't hide their reactions as good. Then I'd drop the synth line on them and see what they did.

But I got kind of carried away and now half of HQ doesn't know if I'm a synth or not.

But I don't even know your world. Why would it matter to me if you were a synth or not? I'm the very last person who can judge people on who they are behind closed doors or when no one's looking.

[ He made it out like synths were strong. She had been okay with the both of them being in danger because she assumed he'd be all right. Now she feels like she's been irresponsible. Humans aren't bulletproof. Humans die, and they die easily.

Ava rubs at one of her arms and chews on a part of her lower lip, expression thoughtful for a time. At length, she sighs. ]

I mean... Look, I can see why you'd do that. You're gambling something dangerous and putting yourself in danger, yeah, but I get it. You want to make sure people are serious about it and aren't selling you bullshit to get information.

[ It's not like the Camarilla hasn't done shady shit too in the name of something 'better'. ]

How...How long have you been lying if you just can't stop? In general, I mean.

Like I said, I got carried away. The lying got out of control. There used to be good reasons for it. There was a time, long time ago, when I only sometimes lied, like a normal person, and for normal person reasons.

And then I started having to keep more things hidden, so I lied more, and then I had to hide those lies by telling more lies and somewhere down the road it just became instinct. There wasn't really a specific time when it happened. Like, I can't point to a year and go "Ah yes, that's when I became a dishonest bastard." It grew gradually. Like, I dunno, rad poisoning. I figure by the time I'm forty, I'll be trying to tell people that the sky is purple and deathclaws are actually really gentle creatures, just misunderstood.

[An implicit lie about his age slips in there. He's forty-seven.]

There was no reason for me to lie to you. I did it because it's what I do.

You did it to keep yourself safe. You work with people who die on a regular basis. Your world and time are shit.

[ And it still hurts that he lied. It still breaks some of the trust she had in him. Deacon's a bullshitter and she's known it, but to know the extent is still painful. She wants very much to trust him fully. He knows her secret. Some part of her, some very dark and beast-like part of her whispers that it'd be easier if she took that from him so he'd never know again. It would be easy.

She shoves that way, disgusted with herself at even thinking it. Ava rubs at her arm. ]

I'm still mad at you. Actually, I'm fucking pissed.

[ Not just at him but at herself. If she'd paid more attention, if she'd gone with her gut... She's put him in danger because she's believed he was more resilient. Stupid, so stupid. Ava opens her mouth to say something, rethinks it, and closes her mouth again. When she speaks, it's quieter. ]

But I don't...hate you or anything. [ She doesn't. ] I lied to you too. I'm lying to everyone. It's not like I can act holier-than-thou and pretend I haven't done the same thing.

Thanks. I'd understand it if you did hate me. [He wants to tell her that the lying isn't just about keeping himself safe, it's about hiding his guilt. He does deserve her hatred, he thinks, and not just for the lies but for the truth underneath the lies. She's lying for her life, but he's lying because he's ashamed. And, fuck, he's lying about why he's lying, too.]

But I'm glad that you don't. If there's a way I can make it up to you...

And, hey, your secret's still totally safe with me. Even if you can't trust anything else I say, you can trust that. If anyone on the ship came to me and said "You know that Ava chick, what's up with her?" I'd just say with a straight face, "Alien princess from the planet Lumaria. There were assassins after her or something so she was hiding on Earth. But...uh...don't tell anyone because it's supposed to be all hush-hush. And I probably shouldn't have told you that, so do me a favor and pretend I didn't."

And on this ship, no one can assume that it's not at least possible.

My hate list is reserved for real assholes, not people lying to keep themselves safe. You don't want to meet the people I hate.

[ And if she never has to see them again, then good riddance. She'd rather just have friends, acquaintances, and strangers than to continue to make enemies everywhere she goes. Ava manages a smile at his joke and even a little laugh, but it's lacking in all the ways she's laughed before. ]

Honestly, it sounds a whole lot more plausible than what I am, anyway, so that's totally fair.

[ She just doesn't want it to go further than that, or she'll need to figure out how to make him forget - and she doesn't want to go that far.

Ava swallows, fidgeting with her fingers. ]

Look, don't make it up to me. You don't need to. I just... I need you to be real with me, right here, right now. [ It's hard to ask for him to be honest, but she needs one thing answered, and one thing only. ] Back on the beach...were you bullshitting me when you said I'm not a freak?

[He can say the words easily enough, but words don't mean a hell of a lot coming from his mouth and all the promises and assurances in the world can't change that. Actions matter. So he takes off his shades. Maybe she can read a moment of honesty in his eyes; he doesn't know the extent of her powers. And even if she can't, it's the gesture that matters. For a brief moment, he's not hiding.]

No bullshit.

You're not a freak.

'Course, I'm a compulsive liar whose had, like, twenty different faces so I might not be the best judge of "normal." But I don't think you're a freak, just a person who was dealt a shit hand by fate and was strong enough to push on through anyway, and now has interesting dietary restrictions. But it could be worse. Could be vegan. How do those people ever find anything to eat?

[ She doesn't go poking in his head. She doesn't need to. Ava wants to trust Deacon and him taking off his sunglasses to look her in the eye-- That means a lot to her. She wants to give him a chance.

Her shoulders slump, relief obvious. She's stopped trying to hide all of that from him months ago. After a moment, Ava sort of smiles at his joke. ]

I really, really don't know how vegans stand it. If you want to talk about freaks, there you go. They willingly want to restrict themselves. It's crazy. [ She gives him a grateful look. ] Thanks. I mean it. You're... I'm pissed at you, but you're still my friend, Deacon.

[ And that means he's not getting away with the initial point of contact tonight, a subject she brings back around. ]

What are you doing up, by the way? You look exhausted.

[ Without the shades, it's more obvious. ]

Nightmares. It turns out reading Lovecraft before bed is not a great idea. [Well, he managed to halfway tell the truth. But the nightmares have nothing to do with Lovecraft. He puts his shades back on.]

I'm tempted to ask you to hypnotize me to go the fuck to sleep. That's a thing vampires can do, right?

I could've told you that. Read the Necronomicon a few years back. Scared the shit out of me. It's not something you want to read around here - especially with what's happened.

[ Ava lifts a single eyebrow and then, hesitantly, shakes her head. ]

I can command people to do things. I can't...command you to sleep. I don't think it works that way.

[ With a frown, she sighs. ]

I can...try to make you forget what's causing your nightmares.

That's tempting. Really tempting.

[He can change his face, change his voice, but he still can't escape himself. But change his memories...forget...and he really would be a different person.

If it weren't for the risk that he'd end up reverting back to an asshole again, he'd consider going for it, forget all the regrets that haunt him.]

But I'd better not.

Knowing me, I'd see that book there and read it again thinking that it's the first time--and let me just say that that would be awesome for books that don't cause horrible nightmares--and end up back where I started.

Yeah, that's kind of the downside. I try to focus on little things to remove but, yeah, you might just make a repeat mistake because of it. It's easier when it's a chunk of time taken out -- but I hate doing it.

[ It's hard still to talk about what she can do, the things she could do to really mess with someone. It's geared towards survival, sure, but that excuse only runs for so long. She fusses with her hands a little bit, a nervous habit even now. She tries to keep her fingers still. ]

So, what, you thought wandering the halls in the dark wouldn't make you think some creepy tentacle monster was after you?

[Prometheus doesn't actually stay in their room; that assigned dorm has no sentimental value for him after all. In fact, he finds there's quite a bit more benefit in only appearing on occasion, randomly, if only to watch Deacon's reaction to his presence. Besides, without the Timer in his body forcing him into mandatory maintenance, he feels happier moving around and watching his energy meter instead.

Or, well... Less chained down at least]

...

Well, what have we here? [Deacon might manage to wander around anonymously to human eyes, but to the members aboard the ship who happened to be inorganic? Not so much] Can't sleep?

Don't tell me- Are you still afraid of ghosts?

Man, who wants to sleep when instead you could party?

[The retort sounds flat and false, even to him. His shoulders slump.]

What's your deal, Prom buddy? We've been playing for months now and I wanna know what your game is. What do you want? [Unusually direct for Deacon, but he can't think. He's so tired and wound up all at once.]

...

[red eyes narrow as he carefully scrutinizes the man in front of him. His Analyzer isn't as robust or precise as Pandora's, but he could pick up on a few things; traces of sweat, signs of exhaustion and something that doesn't appear on any data sheets, a change in demeanour. Deacon was, after all, one of the more amusing people he'd run into aboard, always with a lie in place to deflect whatever attempt Prometheus made to collect data on him]

How straightforward tonight. Is it the lack of sleep or the guilt getting to you? Somehow, I doubt it.

[Prometheus leans back, a hand on his hip and... It's not amusement, but it's not concern either. Curiosity, maybe, if he could still muster up the will for it]

Shall I answer with the truth or a lie? Would you believe me? If I told you, would anything change? I'd still be a murderous android with an attitude problem, you'd still be a pathological liar with something to hide and we'd both still be stuck on this sorry excuse of a ship.

Feel free to lie. I won't judge. Well, maybe I will, but only on the quality of the lie. [His voice switches from low and slightly raspy to a booming TV announcer.] "Aaaand let's see what the judges say! 9.3 for execution! 8.8 for creativity! 9.6 for relevance! What a performance! What do you think, Bob?"

[But it's harder to fake good cheer right now. He does his best, but it still all sounds off, the cadence too sharp, the tone too strained.]

Then I'll just have to tell you that you flunked out of the competition with that performance. What's wrong, Dez? Such a lackluster delivery puts all of our previous conversations to shame.

So what's the big deal tonight?

You're going to die young if you don't sleep well. [he makes a beheading gesture and smiles] It won't even be my fault if that's the case.

I think it's a little too late for me to die young, but, hey, I'll accept it as a compliment that I'm youthful for my age.

And there's no big deal. Just thinking about the day when I was eight and we had to have my pet mole rat Bessy put down, musing about time and eternity and the tragedy of memories. You know, typical middle-aged bullshit. [And still lying.]

Come now, you know that compared with some of us, you're practically a baby. What's a few decades when there are people who have been alive for centuries? [laugh]

... Why, that's almost believable.

[he abruptly leans closer, predatory look on his face again. But with Prometheus being the height of your average teenager, he's probably not all that intimidating (sans the well practiced and not-at-all-fake sneer on his face)]

I wonder how much of that was based on real life events.

[Deacon takes a small step back anyway. You don't have to be tall or physically imposing to shank someone, you just have to get close enough.]

Nah, I never had a pet mole rat. Which is a shame because mole rat is delicious and the winter of '48 was pretty lean and I could have used the extra food.

That's more like it.

Now then... [he leans back to his regular standing posture, seemingly pleased with the response he's received (oddly enough)] You seem more upset lately than the last few times I've seen you. Don't tell me that this level of harassment is all it takes to send you over the edge.

There's being paranoid and then there's just your everyday paranoia. What? Are we afraid of ghosts or skeletons hiding under our beds?

[Thing is? Surely lives next door, and it's not like she keeps any better hours. She's mainly wandering the ship because it's also like she's got nothing better to do. Kind of hard to calibrate whatever she's supposed to be calibrating when it's the middle of the night and half of it's embedded with the same kinda glass that's gotten stuck all kinds of everywhere. She don't have a plan or anything, not with the bar still missing in action, but hey, maybe there's still some Caducan stuff she can get her hands on.

Instead of a haul, though, she runs into... whatever that bald guy's name is. Now that she thinks of it, she's not sure she's ever heard it. Last she saw him, he was missing most of his head. Probably still got her beanie, which is alright considering she's still got that bandana Liquid handed off to her.]

Wouldn't go that way. It's all glassed up. [She points up the hall behind her.]

Edited 2016-07-18 22:22 (UTC)

Goddamn it. See through walls are kinda creepy. I prefer a wall I can hide behind. How about you? How are you holding up with this "and now we live in an aquarium!" crap.

[Nonchalant shrug goes here. Hasn't really thought about it, would prefer not to.] Miss the bar, keep watchin' my feet making sure I don't step too hard and break something, but I figure it could be worse. Not about to give the ship any ideas, mind you.

Yeah, what a time to lose the booze. Seriously.

Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to have a secret booze stash, would you? I figure I'd ask, since you were selling drugs when we met and all.

[#dontjudgeme]

Nah, fresh out. All I've got are Nuka and Sarsparilla.

Sarsparilla? Wait, there's a drink out there that's not booze and not Nuka Cola? Oh my god, everything I thought I ever knew was a lie.

Is it good? Does it have Nuka's trademark radioactive tingle?

Sure is! Uh, to both of those things, 'cept the radiation bit. Think I got a bottle left, if you wanna see yourself?

[I mean, what the hell. It's late, and there's sure as hell nothing better to do. So yeah, she'll be digging through that NCR bag of hers for one.]

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First prompt [OPEN]; second prompt [CLOSED TO WILLIAM]

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