woke up in an awful state. dreamt i was at peter's gate.

[nightmarist]

Who: Ronan Lynch & OPEN
When: October
Where: The Moira
What: Day-to-day encounters with Ronan Lynch.
Warnings: Horror, violence, self-harm, rude language... Typical Ronan stuff.

the main hall (open)

[Causing disruptions may be discouraged in this area but Ronan either doesn't know that or doesn't care, because here he is, making a whole lot of noise. At first it may seem like he's merely punching the wall. There's something strange about the way he's doing it, though, and the closer one gets, the more obvious it becomes that he is in fact smashing his MID into the wall. Probably attempting to break it. Very much failing in the task. He has a remarkable amount of stamina and pain tolerance, apparently, because he keeps at it regardless of how futile it may be. SLAM and SLAM and SLAM until his wrist is so red that the skin breaks and bleeds. And still he doesn't stop.]

the lounge (open)

[At a time when almost everyone else is safe in their beds, Ronan is wandering. He doesn't trust himself to dream in the presence of a roommate, at least not yet. Thus, he finds himself entering the currently-unoccupied lounge. A recliner will suffice as a makeshift bed, he reasons, if only for a few hours before he's inevitably interrupted. He selects the chair furthest from the door and climbs into it, reclining until he's nearly lying down and then curling up his long, long limbs into a fetal position. Sleep won't come easy, but at least he's isolated.]

the gardens (closed to jesse pinkman)

(Continued from here.)

[Jesse is pretty fascinating in all his spinelessness. Ronan's left marveling at how fucking easy it is to push him around. It's no wonder, though, is it? Jesse's just an ordinary, regular guy with no connection to ley lines or magic or Welsh kings. And this ordinary guy witnessed him doing something extraordinary, which no other ordinary guy has ever been privileged enough to witness. And maybe that makes Jesse rightfully terrified, as Ronan is a mysterious and powerful creature.

He feels suddenly very Other.]

Where are we heading?

the gardens (closed to noah czerny)

(Continued from here.)

I could, but then it wouldn't really be us covering the song, would it? I might as well just make a vinyl if it's gonna be playing itself.

the observation deck (closed to joseph kavinsky)

(Continued from here.)

[If Ronan wasn't absolutely sure Kavinsky would misinterpret the action in the most disgusting way, he'd reach up and pummel Kavinsky's balls until the asshole was incapable of speech.

Instead, he straightens to full height. Which has him looking down his nose at Kavinsky. A position he much prefers.]

What're you gonna do now, K? Nothing left for you to threaten me with. It's all down to your charms.

[That said with lips tugged into a sneer, where the word "charms" might as well mean "teeny tiny prick". God Jesus Mary but he hates seeing Kavinsky's face again. He hates the queasiness in his stomach when he looks at that face because he doesn't know what it means, doesn't know what part of all this could cause such a visceral revulsion. Is it because he can still picture Kavinsky's lifeless corpse or is it because the living version is so fucking awful?]

( To encounter Ronan at the Colony, see here. )

Comments

[heisenbitch]

Just up here.

[ Jesse sounds utterly resigned to Ronan following him. Like he's not even going to fight it. He does, however, fight back the urge to look back at Ronan, keeping his eyes intently focused ahead while he resumes walking. Like when the kid was first following him, Jesse is back to being hyper aware of Ronan's looming presence behind him. It's hard not to be, dream demon and all, or whatever the hell Ronan is.

He was actually going to head to the far corner of the gardens, the quietest, most private part (or as private as it's going to get with little available privacy, anyway), where he was going to light up his pipe and hope like hell all the things whirling around in his mind would evaporate for a little while. Does he trust being alone with Ronan, though? Hell, no. Of course, there's no one else in the garden at the moment, as far as Jesse is aware, so they might as well be entirely alone and in private, anyway. Still, he comes to a slow stop at a bench near a crystal in the centre of the garden instead, more out in the open than where he was intending to head, and he slouches down onto the bench, looking as resigned as he'd sounded just a minute ago. ]

S'pose you want one.

[ Funyuns. Jesse gestures to the bag, also offered in a resigned manner like he's anticipating Ronan to help himself whether Jesse offered him any or not. ]

[nightmarist]

Nah. All yours.

[Truth be told, Ronan hasn't had much of an appetite since his arrival. He's been doing a lot of anxious vomiting while no one's around.

Rather than joining Jesse on the bench, Ronan steps over to the crystal and circles it slowly. Shimmering and glittering things attract him. Maybe it has something to do with his nature. If Jesse's paying any attention, Ronan appears utterly transfixed. He reaches out to touch the thing, and when he does, his face takes on a pensive expression. He is, in fact, memorizing it for replication.]

[heisenbitch]

[ Jesse gives a small "whatever" shrug and sets the bag aside. Thoughts of Jane flooding into his mind back at the Tree killed any appetite he may have had, not to mention Ronan's unnerving presence.

His hands rest on his lap, fingernails restlessly picking at each other while his eyes stray back to Ronan. He notices the way Ronan circles the crystal slowly, fascinated. Jesse takes the opportunity to study him while Ronan seems unaware: his dark clothes, the leather bands around his wrists, his curiously bare feet that adds an odd paradox of vulnerability despite his foreboding presence. Jesse finds himself watching how intensely Ronan is studying the crystal. Like he's trying to figure it out or commit it to memory. The pensive look that takes over that sneering face when he touches it. Jesse takes it all in. ]

Sure you wanna be touching that thing?

[nightmarist]

Shit, you're right. It's radioactive.

[That's sarcasm. Or maybe it is radioactive, and Ronan doesn't care. He runs his fingers over the edges of the thing and leans in closer, examining a reflective shard that appears to show his past self, maybe ten months earlier, with long dark hair falling into his eyes.

Interesting.

Without looking at Jesse:]

What are you waiting for?

[Jesse didn't come here to watch him, after all.]

[heisenbitch]

[ Jesse rolls his eyes slightly to himself at that sarcasm lobbed at him. Sure, whatever. Make fun of him for being wary as hell about a crystal that might show a person's past or future, even if it promises to only be a glimpse. Not something Jesse would have put stock in back at home, but in this place where absolutely anything seems possible...

The question Ronan follows that sarcastic comment up with has Jesse quickly looking down, feeling caught out watching him. Is that an offer to join Ronan? To look into the crystal? ]

Nah. Nah, I'm good.

[ He tries to make that sound like he's simply disinterested, while his fingernails keep picking at each other on his lap. ]

[nightmarist]

[That wasn't what Ronan meant, and he turns his eyes to Jesse finally.]

But you came here for something. You're not having second thoughts just because of me, are you?

[morethan084]

[Daisy wasn't sure what that sound was until she turned the corner and spotted some guy slamming his wrist into the wall. Why the hell was no one else doing anything?!

Probably because the guy looked nuts, especially now that there's blood all over his wrist and the wall. Stepping closer to him, Daisy attempts to snap him out of what it is he's doing.]

Hey, hey, hey. Stop that, it's not going to come off. You're hurting yourself when it's useless.

[Maaaybe not the best way to talk him down from this, but, it's the truth.]

[nightmarist]

[Because Ronan isn't actually crazy, he stops the moment she steps up to him in protest. Panting not like a wild animal but like a boxer in the middle of practice, he turns to look at her with one eyebrow arched, as if to ask why it's any of her goddamn business.]

Everything breaks eventually.

[Although at this rate, it might be his wrist rather than the MID. Ronan glances down at the thing, assessing the damage (or lack thereof). The blood smeared on his skin doesn't surprise or deter him. His wrists are often bleeding.]

[morethan084]

Well that's...

[Creepy as fuck to say? Yeah. She stops herself from finishing that sentence out loud though.]

You should probably go to the medbay. I'll take you there.

[nightmarist]

[Flatly:]

No, thanks.

[morethan084]

[She knows people handle shock in different ways, but, seriously? What the fuck was wrong with this guy?]

You really should get your wrist checked out, that seriously looks like it hurts.

[pillz]

Yeah. Yeah, [kavinsky nods, not disagreeing. he looks up at ronan because ronan is inconveniently tol, but there's nothing about the skinny cokehead that seems diminished by the difference in height or physical prowess.] You're right.

Probably gotta exercise some patience. 'Til you got something worth taking, huh?

[another drone buzzes by, and he reaches out to pick up what it's carrying. another drink! this one is green, which is a little more froufrou than he usually likes, but he wiggles it for the aesthetic at least. he looks down at it, like he can't be arsed to look at ronan, but he's highly aware of the other boy. exactly where he's standing, the draw of his breath. and then, with moony certainty:] You're different.

[nightmarist]

[Ronan says nothing, because it's true, but to confirm would also be delivering his weakness on a silver platter, and Kavinsky is practically salivating over it already. He'd rather make Kavinsky guess, drive himself crazy (or rather, crazier) speculating over what it could be. Not that it's something Kavinsky is capable of taking away from him. Not here. There will be nothing Kavinsky can take from him here, not ever.]

[pillz]

[kavinsky is in no position to disagree, at the moment. he doesn't know chainsaw is here.

or about noah, really.

there's a long stare. narrow-eyed but weirdly empty. the joseph kavinsky, what am i going to do next? light some shit on fire, or light myself? special.]

Good to know the Down's Syndrome is still going strong.

[nothing is on fire just yet. kavinsky's face breaks up into laughter, and he aims a slap at the side of ronan's ass.] It's okay. We got time.

[nightmarist]

[Kavinsky's hand doesn't reach its destination before Ronan snatches him by the wrist and grips hard, leaving no option to try again or pull away.]

Get a life or kill yourself again. You're not gonna be my problem here.

[It sounds so convincing. So much so that even Ronan believes it. But that persistent queasiness betrays him. Watching Kavinsky die the first time was too much. Yet, in this moment, he wants to kill Kavinsky again with his bare hands.

He's holding on too long. He's staring too hard. He both wants Kavinsky to disappear and doesn't want to release him. And - more than anything, more than he can hope for - he wants Kavinsky to fucking understand.]

[pillz]

[kavinsky has never been as strong as the other boy, not even with all the powers granted to him by cocaine. his wrist is absurdly small in ronan's grasp, bones and sinew and that's all. but then again, the danger he posed had never relied upon physical strength or the obvious threats.

and arguably, the greatest danger he'd posed was never to ronan at all.]

Couple months after your old man died, you were ready to cut your own arteries out, [he observes. if you ask him, he understands.] How long you gonna last out here, without Matthew, Dicky, and the rest of your ass train?

[deadthing]

We'd still be the ones singing.

[If you could honestly call it that... Anyway, who knows how long it'll take Ronan to learn the accordion??? Noah is impatient.]

[nightmarist]

[So impatient for a guy who literally isn't getting older.]

Okay, fine. I'll make them play themselves. But that's the only cheat we're getting.

[deadthing]

[Not getting any older, no, but existing on borrowed time and very possibly getting deader.]

That's all we need. [He sings the first couple of lines with great enthusiasm as proof.]

I hope there's a PA system we can broadcast it on.

[nightmarist]

[Ronan laughs, and it's about the closest to happy he's been since he got here. So blissfully unaware.]

There's gotta be, right? Otherwise we'll need a boombox. Totally vintage.

the main hall;

[deconstruct]

[ welp, that's definitely normal. but honestly, andyr can't blame the guy - he'd tried gnawing at his for a good hour or so before alva'd taken notice and smack him upside the head, with a lecture on dental health. he'd be doing the same thing this kid is if he didn't already know better - the MID cuffs are nigh on indestructible. not something he's a fan of (feels a lot like being tagged, like cattle), but also not something he has the means to get around, as of yet. ]

Could always just cut your hand off. [ andyr's supplying helpfully, from a few yards away, blankly watching this nonsense go down, holding a little sleeve of french fries pilfered from the mess hall. ] Or get a blow torch.

[ that last one he actually seems to be seriously considering for a moment. that'd been essentially what he did to get the ankle tracker off, hadn't it? and the engineering lab probably has one in stock. hm. ]

[nightmarist]

[Those suggestions sound like they'll do very little to help Ronan work out his frustration in a brutally physical way. He pauses and turns his sharp eyes to the stranger. First he looks at the fries. Then he looks at the face.

It's a very nice face, he can't help but notice.]

I need this hand.

[Despite his abuse of it.]

Blow torch might be the next step.

[deconstruct]

[ he's aware it's a nice face, he actually kind of hates that it's a nice face. there's a nice body too, but you wouldn't be able to tell through the loose jeans and the baggy hoodie he has on, looking like a scruffy teenager, despite being a good five or so years past that era of his life.

andyr's nodding, as if this all seems very reasonable, because really, it does, to him, but he isn't exactly the role model for reason these days. ]

Yeah. Okay. [ a pause. a fry munched. hm. ]

How fast do you heal?

[nightmarist]

[What a weird question. Ronan doesn't quite know how to answer it.]

Human-speed?

[If that clarifies anything. In case he's been mistaken for an alien. Or a demon, which would be slightly more reasonable.]

[deconstruct]

[ So this guy's not going to have a fun time with this blow torch experiment, but really, no one's going to, because ow. At least, they can spare the one who won't bounce back from the inevitable injury that'll come with it as fast as Andyr will. ]

So we'll try it on me.

[ Giving a jerk of his head, he's motioning for Ronan to follow him, towards the engineering room, because yeah, he was serious about trying the blow torch. If Ronan follows, Andyr'll be holding out the sleeve of french fries, with a little shake. ] Want one?