The Admiral's main method of changing us is to force us into alternate lives. I've been married, I've been someone's child, I've been a brother. You never know when it will happen, and you won't realize it has happened until the Admiral stops fucking with your head.
[ You'll excuse the small explosion of sputtering sound, please. He's livid.]
That is barbaric.
[ He'd been told that there would be changes, that he might be a bird or a child, that he might be transported into one world or another. But to assign loved ones, family, to give someone a child-]
[ He very much sounds as if he'd like to snap at someone, but he doesn't want to snap at the person he's talking to so it's just... bottled irritation.]
No one had mentioned that particular aspect in such a way, no.
People probably water it down. They don't want to scare new blood, but they also have to justify being here while still telling themselves they're decent people. To them, being shoved into a new family is fun.
I've had a few. I ignore them all when we come out of it. Not the people--just the fake lives we led. They sometimes fade. But anyway, that's going to be in the archives I send you, too: posts that people made while they were living strangers' lives.
I have... quite a lot of experience with... I suppose the best way to put it is living through others' experiences. Feeling what they felt, knowing what they knew.
[ A pause. ]
And in... well, in some thing deciding to change people around. Filling in thoughts and images and memories for you, copying over what's real with something fake.
[ Sasha. And the Not!Sasha. The idea that such a thing happens here, regularly, frequently, and everyone just brushes over it-]
[Lark doesn't like wardens as a rule. He can get along with them, laugh and play games and share with them, but at the end of the day he'd leave them to die on the ship if he got the chance. All but two--Tiffany and Alec--who show genuine concern for him, and have suffered for him.
He's never heard either of them refer to any part of the Barge as evil. It's a strange word to hear after so long among superheroes but it resonates unexpectedly in him.]
I'm a wolf. [It's not a secret at all, but it still feels like one. Lark tries never to forget how sharing this secret will cost him his life at home.]
[ He won't make any secret of the fact that he'd been informed about him, during a conversation that had happened somewhat concurrent with this one. Quentin had been up front about it, and he hadn't been bothered by it in the least since then. Less so than the news that he'd be having his entire life NotThem'd like some sort of game whenever the Admiral bloody well felt like it.
But he does consider his answer carefully before he speaks. As carefully as he considers anything which, in some ways, isn't nearly as careful as he perhaps should be.]
The kind that feeds on secrets, on knowing, the same way I suspect some part of you thrives on the Hunt.
[ Lawrence Mortimer's words were still there, after all. He'd read them off the page and some part of them was still in him, just like all of them were. He could almost hear the sing-song recollection of the predator's words.
He understood that hunger more than he liked.]
Edited (slight clarification given thread timing) 2019-01-30 12:19 (UTC)
'Homicidal' was the primary word used. Specifically, that you tend to kill your wardens.
[ His tone, crisp as ever, is more wry and matter-of-fact than all that upset. Death and horror and monsters that tear at any cages they might have, even if those cages have faces-
It's business as usual, honestly.]
I was then quoted 'two to six corpses' a year as your average.
[ He takes a moment to clear his throat before continuing.]
If I do happen to be assigned your warden, I hope you'll at least do me the convenience of agreeing to some manner of schedule. I'd prefer not to have a project interrupted if it's possible by this 'death toll', as I've heard it called.
[Lark considers that and tips his head in a half-nod, a sort of 'yeah okay that's fair' gesture that needs no words.]
I haven't killed all my wardens. Tiffany and Buffy listened to what I needed them to do, and we did fine. Besides, I don't usually kill people who are good at things that I'm interested in. I'd be shooting myself in the foot if I interrupted your work.
How many projects are you even considering, right this moment?
[ He'll take that particular silence for what it is, and the warning for what it is as well. If Mr. Tennant doesn't mind him going about his business, then they should function just fine. He'd rather not die, if it's all the same. The idea of directions... that he's less sure of. He has noted before that he may not be a terribly brave man at points (which is questionably true) but he is a stubborn one (unquestionably true). And he knows his own luck when it comes to angering the sort of beings that go for the proverbial (or literal) throat.
He'd survived those, but not unscarred.]
The archive, obviously, as I mentioned.
[ And this would, in fact, be the first person he's mentioning the Leitner problem to,besides Miss Kal-El, but he supposes that that is fitting. The library staff should be the front line against this.]
And I will be combing the collection to search for a certain set of books which I'm familiar with from my own world. Very... unfortunate, dangerous books.
[The one thing Sims didn't mention was Lark's tendency to be in the eaves of sabotage and mutinous missions. He wonders now if whoever shared the information didn't add that in, because he's quietly surprised that any warden would tell him about dangerous artifacts.
But one thing about Lark is that he protects what is his, and the ship for now is the only thing keeping him alive. No one else will be allowed to harm it.]
[ He sucks in a breath, obvious enough, and lets it out again.]
I watched one of them devour a boy of eighteen years, two long hairy spider's legs reaching out, incredibly huge,snatching him before my very eyes. I have found a man's corpse with bite and claw marks that originated from inside of his body, ripping themselves outwards. I'm aware of one that slowly moves the date of your death backwards every time that you look at the last page, where you get to read the increasingly gruesome account of how you will die. Another that, with a single paper cut, putrified a man's entire system within a day.
[ A pause before- ]
Will you require more examples or does that suffice?
In that case, the book came to the gentleman with no warning and little information. I imagine reading of his own demise in a book gifted to him somewhat surprisingly by the death of an acquaintance struck a nerve.
[ Another long, tired sigh.]
At last count, before the place was destroyed, there were 978 books belonging to Jurgen Leitner, kept in his so-called 'prison' with the intention to contain them away from others.
[ There's a particular sort of anger in his voice.]
The man was a fool, a child attempting to contain forces he could barely conceptualize purely for his own pride.
[ He lets most of it go, the hint irritation in his voice remaining mostly because the niggling thought of 'George Icarus' and his remains will be on his mind for a while yet, at least until he's properly dug into the work here. Dammit, Elias...
He continues, though. ]
And while I have no intention of repeating his mistakes, I feel it would be... remiss of me not to at least make people aware of any which I find and the dangers they might pose.
[ There's the sort of pause that comes when one is rubbing at one's eye or the bridge of one's nose.]
Besides, at least one of them has a tendency to make the other books around it start to bleed. I'm sure we'd all prefer to avoid the extra mopping up.
There are people here you don't want to warn. People like... [so many people he's met who have gone, he has to think a moment to find the best current example] Like Bill. You've seen him? The little triangle? If he knew those existed, and if they were here, he would weaponize them.
[ There is a very particular flatness to his tone as he says- ]
I have most certainly met Mr. Cypher, regardless of the fact that I wish I had not.
[ He makes a noise, not so much a sigh as a soft huff, but it's just as obvious he doesn't mind continuing.]
I'm well aware of the fact that the books will, no doubt, be utilized in ways that I don't approve of, especially by beings such as 'Bill'. But I am equally aware that it is only a matter of time before the information disseminates regardless of my wishes and a proper record of what actually appears to be present here will at least allow for some manner of forensics in cases which might otherwise provide difficulties.
[ The next is something of a grumble, but it's not the sort that says he intends to hold back. On the contrary-]
What would you like to know about Mr. Leitner? Understanding, of course, that I only met the man in person once.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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I'm sorry, f-family?
[ He sounds the opposite of thrilled.]
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That is barbaric.
[ He'd been told that there would be changes, that he might be a bird or a child, that he might be transported into one world or another. But to assign loved ones, family, to give someone a child-]
And this is normal?
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No one told you?
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No one had mentioned that particular aspect in such a way, no.
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I'm under no such delusion, I suppose. And have...
Suffice to say, I'm not looking forward to any new 'family' this place might 'decide' for me.
[ He really does sound rather bitter about the whole thing.]
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...You have some experience with this, don't you?
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[ A pause. ]
And in... well, in some thing deciding to change people around. Filling in thoughts and images and memories for you, copying over what's real with something fake.
[ Sasha. And the Not!Sasha. The idea that such a thing happens here, regularly, frequently, and everyone just brushes over it-]
It's evil.
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He's never heard either of them refer to any part of the Barge as evil. It's a strange word to hear after so long among superheroes but it resonates unexpectedly in him.]
Are you a telepath?
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No. Nor do I have any manner of omniscience. I can't-
I don't look inside anyone's head.
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Around here it's hard to say how literally to take people. I tell people I can be a monster, you know--but half of them don't realize that I mean it.
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I won't disbelieve you.
[ He lets out something very much like a sigh, familiar and tired all at once.]
Especially as I could say the same.
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What kind of monster are you?
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[ He won't make any secret of the fact that he'd been informed about him, during a conversation that had happened somewhat concurrent with this one. Quentin had been up front about it, and he hadn't been bothered by it in the least since then. Less so than the news that he'd be having his entire life NotThem'd like some sort of game whenever the Admiral bloody well felt like it.
But he does consider his answer carefully before he speaks. As carefully as he considers anything which, in some ways, isn't nearly as careful as he perhaps should be.]
The kind that feeds on secrets, on knowing, the same way I suspect some part of you thrives on the Hunt.
[ Lawrence Mortimer's words were still there, after all. He'd read them off the page and some part of them was still in him, just like all of them were. He could almost hear the sing-song recollection of the predator's words.
He understood that hunger more than he liked.]
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[ His tone, crisp as ever, is more wry and matter-of-fact than all that upset. Death and horror and monsters that tear at any cages they might have, even if those cages have faces-
It's business as usual, honestly.]
I was then quoted 'two to six corpses' a year as your average.
[ He takes a moment to clear his throat before continuing.]
If I do happen to be assigned your warden, I hope you'll at least do me the convenience of agreeing to some manner of schedule. I'd prefer not to have a project interrupted if it's possible by this 'death toll', as I've heard it called.
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I haven't killed all my wardens. Tiffany and Buffy listened to what I needed them to do, and we did fine. Besides, I don't usually kill people who are good at things that I'm interested in. I'd be shooting myself in the foot if I interrupted your work.
How many projects are you even considering, right this moment?
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He'd survived those, but not unscarred.]
The archive, obviously, as I mentioned.
[ And this would, in fact, be the first person he's mentioning the Leitner problem to,besides Miss Kal-El, but he supposes that that is fitting. The library staff should be the front line against this.]
And I will be combing the collection to search for a certain set of books which I'm familiar with from my own world. Very... unfortunate, dangerous books.
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But one thing about Lark is that he protects what is his, and the ship for now is the only thing keeping him alive. No one else will be allowed to harm it.]
Dangerous how?
cw body horror, child death, disease
I watched one of them devour a boy of eighteen years, two long hairy spider's legs reaching out, incredibly huge,snatching him before my very eyes. I have found a man's corpse with bite and claw marks that originated from inside of his body, ripping themselves outwards. I'm aware of one that slowly moves the date of your death backwards every time that you look at the last page, where you get to read the increasingly gruesome account of how you will die. Another that, with a single paper cut, putrified a man's entire system within a day.
[ A pause before- ]
Will you require more examples or does that suffice?
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[It's an idle, thoughtful question while he mulls this all over, shuffles the information into useful and less useful categories.]
How many books are we looking for?
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[ Another long, tired sigh.]
At last count, before the place was destroyed, there were 978 books belonging to Jurgen Leitner, kept in his so-called 'prison' with the intention to contain them away from others.
[ There's a particular sort of anger in his voice.]
The man was a fool, a child attempting to contain forces he could barely conceptualize purely for his own pride.
[ He lets most of it go, the hint irritation in his voice remaining mostly because the niggling thought of 'George Icarus' and his remains will be on his mind for a while yet, at least until he's properly dug into the work here. Dammit, Elias...
He continues, though. ]
And while I have no intention of repeating his mistakes, I feel it would be... remiss of me not to at least make people aware of any which I find and the dangers they might pose.
[ There's the sort of pause that comes when one is rubbing at one's eye or the bridge of one's nose.]
Besides, at least one of them has a tendency to make the other books around it start to bleed. I'm sure we'd all prefer to avoid the extra mopping up.
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Tell me more about Leitner.
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I have most certainly met Mr. Cypher, regardless of the fact that I wish I had not.
[ He makes a noise, not so much a sigh as a soft huff, but it's just as obvious he doesn't mind continuing.]
I'm well aware of the fact that the books will, no doubt, be utilized in ways that I don't approve of, especially by beings such as 'Bill'. But I am equally aware that it is only a matter of time before the information disseminates regardless of my wishes and a proper record of what actually appears to be present here will at least allow for some manner of forensics in cases which might otherwise provide difficulties.
[ The next is something of a grumble, but it's not the sort that says he intends to hold back. On the contrary-]
What would you like to know about Mr. Leitner? Understanding, of course, that I only met the man in person once.
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