exsiliumlogs | hurry, hurry [OPEN]

Entry tags:

hurry, hurry [OPEN]

Date & Time: 2/20, nighttime
Location: All over the friggin' place – near the houses, the starting point, the hold etc.
Characters: Martin Darkov, YOU?
Summary: Gotta find a way out of here, man.
Warnings: N/A

No, no, no...

Martin's thoughts were in time with his panting – a mistake right away, he realized, once he felt his throat start to really feel raw and tight. That's not how you're supposed to run.

But he'd gotten scared. So scared. Everything was just...just too much at once. He didn't think to calm down, breathe through his nose when he ran, take stock of where he was going. He had no idea if he was going in circles or squares or anything, just--

I have to get back to Olvoski. I have to. I have to. Have to, have to...

"Gnah...hah..." He had to stop again, bent forward with his hands on his knees, panting hard. Nasally whimpers escaped here and there, the worst of which he fought ferociously. I must not cry. I must get back to Olvoski.

I must!

It made his shaky legs move again. Bleary-eyed and blind to real direction, he ran, seeking out the shape of a body who could, who just might be able to tell him what he needed to hear.

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"Well then. I guess I passed their test." With the stones gone, Bariyan finally felt safe enough to step back in. He crouched down to level with Martin, eye-to-eye. He figured if Martin had still been planning on attack, he would've done so long ago.

Bariyan folded his arms over his knees and regarded Martin thoughtfully.

"So. I'm not a monster. Though I'll leave it up to you to decide whether I'm bad or not." Bariyan smirked at that thought, then pushed it back away. "Are we all right, now?"

He had to have been doing something wrong, obviously. Some kind of mistake. He'd tripped into trouble somehow, wound up here, and now that he'd completely disregarded protocol in his panic, he must have...have broken his tempering stones? Was that even possible?

Well. Well, maybe it was for the one Darkov in the history of ever to not get a spirit contract, he thought with a bitter and slightly hysterical bent. It flickered on his face for a moment, lost when the dead-thing moved closer toward him and forced him back to the problems at-hand.

He is a talking dead person.

But also...not a monster?

Martin stared at him worriedly, unhappily, baffled. His mouth opened and closed a couple times at the question, only managing a throaty little sound he was obliged to cough and swallow against. He could feel blood flooding to his face to really show how foolish he was.

"I-I...I don't know," he stammered, shrinking down. "Sorry I, I don't...I'm not..." Not any good at all – at all!

Whoa, kid was messed. The hell sort of world had he come from? One where he didn't typically hold conversations with things like Bariyan, he assumes. Bariyan grimaced and ran his hands through his hair, scrambling for something to say.

"Let's just say we're all right for now," Bariyan said, though it was quite evident that one of them was not all right. But they had to get past this point.

He tilted his head curiously towards Martin. "You're new here." A statement. Bariyan was pretty sure that anyone who'd been here for a couple days would've gotten all the running-around-in-panic and attacking-perfectly-innocent-people out of their system already.

Martin nodded just slightly, mouth pressing into a thin, unhappy line. It was a huge understatement.

"I just," he grimaced, scooting himself further against the wall, back straightening out. "I'm just trying to get back to...to Olvoski, is all."

Bariyan contemplated that answer, then said, "Well, running around like a headless chicken isn't going to help you at all."

But he didn't blame Martin, to be honest. This had been a surprising enough experience for him, let alone some scared kid who barely looked old enough to take care of himself.

"So you just arrived." Bariyan sighed, and looked Martin in the eye again. "Do you remember how you got here? Do you think this is your world? Do you think there's a way back out?"

No, of course not. His head dropped again, guilty as charged on all counts of headless chickening. The guilt got worse as the questions came one right after the other, twenty-ton weights on his shoulders.

"No," he mumbled after each one, more and more despairing. But he startled a little after responding to the last, looking back up. "N-no, I mean-- I mean I don't know it, yet. So that's why I'm looking, asking where..."

Bariyan's stone-faced countenance finally broke, at that. He grinned down at Martin. It was, however, hardly a reassuring grin.

"You think you're the first person here to have asked that question?" Bariyan shook his head. "If anyone here knows, they aren't talking about it."

Not that Bariyan had looked deep into the issue. The longer he stayed here, the more certain he was that he didn't want to go back.

Martin's stomach did a little flip at the sight of the grin. It was awfully familiar in intent, though the face was a stranger's (and also dead). He squirmed, unable to look at it for long and feeling awful for it.

"I still have to," he uttered, muffled by his unhappy fidgeting. "Try."

Bariyan's smile went softer at the edges as he shook his head again.

"Didn't say you shouldn't. Just... it's not going to be easy." He hesitated. Then figured he might as well say what's on his mind. "I don't think we're supposed to leave."

Why? he wondered, eyes still downcast and surveying the ground in at his feet as if clues were there. I'm nobody special. Why not Alexander? Or Dani? Or--

He visibly flinched, appalled by his train of thought. He shouldn't be thinking of who ought to replace him in that confusing situation – just thinking of how to get out.

"That doesn't matter," he said, almost resolved, as he looked back up. He swallowed. "It...it doesn't mater. To me, I mean. I have to go, no matter what."

Bariyan shrugged. Kid was determined. "All right, good to know that you've got your goals set."

He seemed somewhat calmer now, though no less twitchy, so Bariyan figured it was safe to try for a proper introduction again. "I don't believe I got your name?"

Oh.

He was on the spot again. Martin's stomach knotted again, a little chill racing down his neck. Never call a monster by a name, he knew, but...but what about giving the name to the monster?

...Even if it's not a...bad monster?

"Uhm..."

It was complicated. But names were power – there was nothing wrong with using his own, getting called by it. Right?

He sure hoped so, there as he gaped and gulped like a fish.

"M-Martin. Martin Darkov."

All right, now they were getting somewhere.

"Nice to meet you, Martin," and here Bariyan grinned again. Nice. Sure. Well, it could only get better from here.

He got back up to his feet and brushed himself off. "How about we go for a walk? Or at least you can get away from that wall. You're clinging to it like it's your mother."

Martin twitched at that, hunching forward a little. His mouth tugged, at a loss as to what direction it was supposed to go? Ha, ha, funny? Or, no. No? Who even knew?

Either way, the idea of taking a stroll with a walking, talking dead person was...was not the best he'd ever heard. A dozen strident voices in his head criticized, chastised, or outright insulted his intelligence for even being in the situation he was in.

"Uh," He looked over his shoulder at the wall for a second, pursing his lips before glancing back up. "No." He winced. "I mean! No, th-thank you. I still...still have to find a way out. S-so..."

He hesitated, starting to roll on a side and scramble to his feet, finding himself more than a little graceless.

Bariyan sighed. He was beginning to regret his decision to not drink tonight.

"What else did you think we were going to talk about?" Bariyan asked. "I'd like for you to get back home too, Darkov. I don't think you should be here."

Honestly. What were these people playing at? Martin obviously had some sort of... talent going in him, sure, if that initial attack was anything to judge by, but ye gods. He didn't seem ready to be fighting any wars.

Bariyan was very much unhappy with Exsilium's all-ages policy.

The boy didn't really understand what was happening enough already, but unless dead people did things differently, Martin sensed he wasn't very...happy about wanting to have a walk or a talk or...or whatever. In fact, it was at a point in the lopsided conversation where Martin expected to be dismissed, shooed off in some manner. By no means would he have been opposed to it.

So, why?

Standing up only meant he didn't have to look up as far, but he would still suffer the superiority height gave to others around him. Even dead ones?

"But I don't," he rubbed at his elbow, darting glances about. "I don't know what else there is to say on it."

The next look that Bariyan gave to Martin was thoroughly confused.

"You don't want to hear what I have to say on it?" Bariyan shrugged, like: well, if that's how you feel, I guess. "I've been here -- not for that long, kid, but probably a little longer than you have. Did you talk to the people here? Have you looked outside of this place? Did you--"

Bariyan stopped himself. That was probably a little too aggressive. He sighed and started over.

"Look. I know a couple things. Maybe they'll help, maybe they'll won't, but I can at least try to catch you up on this place."

Things like what was happening right then and there were, as far as Martin was concerned, pretty much why he didn't like going out, doing things, having to talk one-on-one with anybody except a coupl--

Alright, maybe not precisely why, given the unprecedented circumstances, but he was still feeling pretty eager to crawl back to his room and hide for a good...year. No matter what I do or say, I'm making it worse!

By the time Bariyan stopped himself, Martin had flinched, eyes clamped shut and teeth gritted in a grimace, flushed and embarrassed. One eye opened after the sigh, uncertain it was safe to even look. The other opened at help.

Help him? His fingers clutched at his sleeve, pulling his arm to himself.

"Oh, uhm..." What was the best thing to say? He swallowed, still a bucket of nerves. The rest was spoken to Bariyan's shoes. "Sorry." No! "I mean, thank you. If I could know...I mean, if you want to tell me, that's...that'd be good."

"'course I want to tell you," Bariyan said, trying to sound as genuine as possible.

He was getting progressively more and more confused by Martin's behavior. It was like every word Bariyan spoke was a physical blow. Gods, what was he supposed to do? He wanted to reach out, pull Martin back up to his feet, clap his shoulder, something-- but Bariyan was certain that doing so would just make things worse.

So he remained standing, hands stuck into his pockets, looking and feeling distinctly awkward.

"Look. I swear to... whatever. I want to help," he said.

But why?

Bariyan's shoes certainly weren't giving the answers he needed. And there were no cousins or uncles or aunts around to tell him what to do – or just do it for him, as was usually the case. It made for fewer problems, that was for sure...

"Alright," he uttered. Weird. Weird, weird, weird! Nobody was ever in a situation like this before, he was positive. He gulped. Getting advice from a dead person...

Who wasn't a monster, according to tempering stones? So...

He looked up again, chewing on the inside of his lip and nodding a little. Alright. Alright, then...then this is what is happening, I guess...

The nod was slightly encouraging. They were getting somewhere. Hopefully. Bariyan bit down on the inside of his lip and reminded himself that he probably had to tread very carefully, here. But hell, he had the time. And hopefully he had the patience, too.

Bariyan went on to try and coax a little more response out of Martin. "You gonna take me up on that walk, then? I can't show you the way out, but I can point out where not to go."

"Yes, sir." Even in such an unfathomable situation, the response was reflex. He was just going to have to put a lot out of mind if he could; a lot of taunting and yelling that wasn't even real.

Grandfather would be so mad...

Putting that out of mind wasn't going to be easy, but Martin had made a choice and had to at least see it through enough to be certain it was good or bad. He had no idea where he was at all, anyway, so if someone else could show him? That was a good thing, wasn't it?

Just put the rest of it aside.

He straightened up, no longer fidgeting foot to foot, shooting small, uncertain glances up as he waited to go.

"No need to 'sir' me," Bariyan said. "Come on, then."

Bariyan brushed himself off, looked at his shoulder where Martin's attack had scraped him, and decided that they better get that out of the way first. Just in case Martin changed his mind about being well-behaved. Bariyan might not have been alive, exactly, but he certainly had no intentions of returning to eternal sleep quite yet.

"Mind telling me about that attack back there?" Bariyan asked, as he started to walk away. He was doing his best to sound merely curious, and not accusatory. Gods knew he was treading carefully here.

Martin's reply ("Alright.") was virtually inaudible, mumbled to the ground. His head lifted and he followed once he saw feet move, staying nearly two steps behind Bariyan.

His face colored again at the question, eyes getting big for a moment.

"Um." His fingers curled around his elbow again. "What about?"

"Just curious," Bariyan said, stopping to look back at Martin. But they'd barely gone ten steps, so he doesn't stop for long. "I've never seen anything like it before."

He smirked to himself. In the past week or so, most everything he'd seen had been entirely new to him.

Their walk took them around the hold and across the lawns. Bariyan's pace was slow and aimless, for the moment, trying to figure out if there was any place in particular that he ought to show Martin right now.

screeches MARTIN'S SO SAD AND ADORABLE, i'm going to die

please don't die you're already dead don't be double-dead 8(

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