realityshifted

Entry tags:

doctor who (d1) oliver day

[010]

[during the current crisis, Oliver has taken shelter in the Plane's library. he is reclining in a comfortable chair, with a book on the floor in front of him--upside-down and open, as though it's slipped off his lap. he is just stirring from sleep, and sits up, causing the back of the chair to come up with him. he shakes his head, looking about groggily for an instant--then, instantly, he's on edge. he looks slowly around the room, contemplating it warily] Hey, is someone...? ...no.

[slowly, he reaches down to retrieve his book--something on Greek and Roman mythology, for the curious. but he's still stiff and edgy, glancing around him before he turns his gaze downward, flipping back to his page previous page. but instead of reading, he looks up again, tense] Who-who's there? I hear you!

[ooc: Oliver has also made a choice! In your comment, please leave a note for me, either to PM you or your AIM/e-mail/whathave you so I can ask a question before he interacts with your character.]

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But...you're in an ice cube.

[He relaxes, strangely, more curious now.] Am I? Could you describe it? As far as I am aware, I'm only in my clothes.

Um...well. [Oliver is absolutely radiating confusion because how does this man not see this? what is going on?] It's not a cube, exactly. I mean, not like Han Solo, more like...I dunno, icicles, maybe? You're sorta...coated in sharp ice. I think it's melting a little, but...

[turns away, shaking his head] If you're not really...I don't know what's going on. Sorry. I must sound really mad right now...

[The confusion just adds to Sherlock's own and he rubs his temples, trying to stop the endless loop going through his head. He takes a deep breath.] Mad, yes. But given the situation, entirely possible. I don't think I am. I don't feel it.

[sighs, but he's relieved that Sherlock hasn't declared him mad over this] It's probably something the Plane's done again.

Can I...? [gestures at his arm, reaching out to see if he touches ice or not]

[Sherlock nods, Oliver's relief helping more than anything. He moves closer and holds out his arm.]

[reaches out nervously, laying a hand on his arm and feeling only cloth. sighs in relief. it's an odd sight--his hand is in the ice, from his point of view--but it's certainly better than the alternative] No ice, then. [withdraws his hand, smiling now. that's one bit of good news]

[Sherlock smiles back. Oh infectious relief.] Then that does beg the question of why you see me that way.

I... [hesitates, worry and regret surging up inside him. he doesn't want to believe this has to do with his choice, but if he's suddenly seeing ice that isn't real, what other explanation is there?] I think it's because I made a choice.

[Sherlock raises his eyebrow.] Did you now. A new one, I assume, not the original choice.

Huh? Oh, no! After that. I...well, I showed up in this room with like--a sort of computer. And it gave me a choice. Then I woke up here, and...this must be because of that.

Ah. [He pauses, then sighs.] I had a similar experience with different results. What were you asked?

[blinks in surprise. that's definitely not the reaction he was expecting] What, really?

[but he hesitates at the question, his worry and guilt welling up again. still, it's comforting to know that he's not the only one who had to choose something. it makes it easier to share] Whether...I wanted to see people for what they really are--or what I believe them to be.

What about you?

[Sherlock feels his own stomach twist but the comfort helps somewhat. He sighs.] A different question, then. If I wanted to know what people were thinking or what they were feeling.

[his eyes widen. at first, he reacts with pure surprise, but then he's flooded with understanding. this catches him so off-guard that he looks Sherlock in the eyes] Wait, really? So that's what that was!

[The feelings take Sherlock by surprise and he gives a start, staring at Oliver. There's the odd mix of confusion and understanding, with some apprehension.] That wasn't part of your choice, however. You already had this...ability.

[Oliver is hit by that onslaught of mixed up emotions] Whoa! Don't--don't do that. [looks away. it was his fault, really. he makes a face at himself, his nervousness remaining even as the other emotions fade somewhat] I...yeah. It's 'cause of the Plane. It gave it to me a while ago. Some...things happened. [and even though he words say nothing specific about his death match, the sad and painful emotions from that time still come to his mind]

[Though Sherlock has only heard something vague about the matches, he can still feel the emotions strong enough to make a logical inference.] You died. [He runs a hand through his hair. He's not used to this much emotion and it's difficult for him to say the least.]

[cringes, looking at him in surprise because a total stranger isn't supposed to be able to read him like that. he feels a jab of worry--is this how he makes Benny feel?] I...yeah. But it was a while ago. I'm getting used to it. [he gives a reassuring smile, but he knows enough to realise that Sherlock will feel the emotional turmoil underneath it]

[speaking of, he remembers how hard that ability was to get used to] Are you doing all right?

No. [Sherlock winces minutely at his own honesty but he's dealing with too many emotions at once, his and Oliver's, to really be able to speak as he wants.] I only chose feelings because if I knew what everyone was thinking I would be bored to death. I'm starting to regret it anyway. [It doesn't take an empath to notice how frustrated he feels.]

[frowns. he wasn't expecting that honesty either, but he's grateful for it. he's also nervous, though, because he should be able to do something to help--he's been living with this ability, after all--but he's not sure what to do. where's Sirkka when you need her?] I know what you mean. [the ability did nothing but scare him to begin with, really] But have you found a way to...to separate you from other people, at least?

[after asking the question, he takes a deep breath. the least he can do is calm down so Sherlock will feel calmer] Hey, I don't think I even got your name. I'm Oliver, by the way.

[It does help and it's appreciated, Sherlock relaxing somewhat.] Sherlock Holmes. [He slips his hands into his pockets to stop any possible nervous habits from manifesting.] I generally prefer not having emotions as they get in the way. So separating myself is more difficult when I'm not used to feeling much at all.

[smiles] Nice to meet you, Sherlock!

[but he's surprised and confused by that] What, really? [how can you not have emotions!?]

[He sighs and gives a slight shrug.] I suppose I can't officially say I don't have them but I don't see the point in them. They won't help me solve cases and that's all that matters to me. Caring won't stop a murderer. Facts and evidence, however, will. [It certainly explains his icy appearance at least, though he neglects any information that might explain the melting.]

[Oliver's not the sort of person who would point it out, but he's certainly noticed the positioning of the melting. instead, he says gently:] Someone who didn't care wouldn't want to stop the murderer, either.

But! Emotions aren't such a bad thing. Not getting caught up in other people's, though--that's the hard part.

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