ext_61593 (
rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com) wrote in
realityshifted2009-02-17 02:50 pm
Entry tags:
12;
[Oh, look who it is. Not bustling, not running around, not talking. Just quietly there.]
[He's been scarce on the Plane lately, his current situation making him anything but social. As it is, he's here now, staring at the post he has on the Plane, waiting for a promised letter. Feel free to interrupt.]
[He's been scarce on the Plane lately, his current situation making him anything but social. As it is, he's here now, staring at the post he has on the Plane, waiting for a promised letter. Feel free to interrupt.]

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Hold on a mo'.
[vanishes off the plane, returns with two glasses of wine---normally it would be tea, but he's having a bad day]
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[She settles down on the Plane.] This is going to sound a bit rehearsed, probably. [A sip of wine to clear her throat and head.] Ten--well, almost eleven years ago now, the Gates appeared on earth. Heaven's Gate in South America, Hell's Gate in Tokyo, Japan. They're realms of physical impossibility. Chaos. Where the 'rules' of the natural world as we know them are turned on their heads and then pulverized.
[Another sip.] They're the subject of constant rumor, study, and curiosity, and have been since they showed up. Simultaneous to the Gates' appearance, the real stars and the moon disappeared.
[She pauses there because, ahaha... he's probably going to have questions about that.]
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And then the stars went out.
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[A shudder. She stares at the wine.] They'll turn your own body against you.
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What happened to you, Misaki?
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[She closes her eyes.] I need your help, actually.
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Blimey. You can't even get away from Plane-like experiments back on your own reality.
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What do you want me to do?
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All right. Face me.
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[A deep breath.] Ready. I think.
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Just relax. Imagine your mind like a walkway. If there's anything you don't want me to see, just imagine a door and I won't look.
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There are images of the wall surrounding the Gate--smooth, reflective, impossibly tall.
A smiling blond man smoking cigarettes that pour blood out of his mouth instead of smoke.
People in white masks with lightning bolts etched on their surfaces, cutting down the people around her with bolts of fire, ice, rubber bands that fly quicker than bullets, all surrounded by a faint blue glow.
And then come the implants; first the mirage of PANDORA, fully active outside of the room they closed her into, her father visiting her, the injection of medication for her heart--
Yeah, she slams the door on the bit about her heart for now. That's a worry for another time.
And now lunch with Kanami at by the mess hall window, looking out at the gray-green fog inside the Gate. Kanami asking questions she has no reason to ask, Kanami looking taller and thinner than she should, not Kanami at all.
Then the painful ones. She's back on the testing table after the first time she died, with scientists promising it won't hurt as much if she'll just talk to them. If she'll at least do that.
Hei. Pinned down, being tortured, answering them the only way to make it stop.
Sam in the same position.
The Doctor, this time with the Master standing over him and drawing a thin blade down the man's bare arm. And then the Doctor becomes Sam becomes Hei, and she can't really tell which is which any more.]
H... [A shudder, the suppressed urge to vomit.] How can you tell what's fake? If you're not me? [Wow, that phrasing sounded childish.]
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[goes to the one image with the Master, this one must be false]
It's like you're seeing it through a glass. Look.
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[That's how to think of this, too.]
[The first thing she notices is the lack of detail. Grotesque, maybe, but God or the Devil or whoever happens to be inhabiting the space today is in the details. It's like a moving image painted in broad strokes, even the blood seeming out of focus the more she tries to pin it down.
The faces are general, almost right, but really only close enough for her to attach familiar names.]
[No wonder it was hard to tell who was who after a while.]
[She places her hands over the Doctor's in a timid, relieved motion.]
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[he helps her along with this, slowly creating a bin out of the floorboards in her mind's hallway]
[he gives a small smile to her relief. He likes knowing he can still help]
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[Herself on the exam table--that one is harder.]
[Much harder. She keeps her hands over his for the simple contact, shivering a little. This time she has her own details to draw on, her own memories twisted into the lie.]
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You can do it.
[he leans forward, pressing his forehead to hers]
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[It takes several minutes--an hour? Longer? she's not sure--to draw the facade away from the amorphous scene they implanted.]
[She drops it into the little bin and takes a massive mental step back. Free from that, the last ones are easy to distinguish. She gives the Doctor's hands a squeeze as the M.E. constructs fade.] Thank you.