contractuallybinding | (no subject)

Something is very wrong right now. And yet - (Martin) can only feel like it's his own fault somehow? Clearly he should have known not to look into those vibrant green eyes - shouldn't have made eye contact. Now that he has, well. (Elias) can't be held accountable for whatever happens after that.

He trembles, dimly, not even aware that he's doing it. "Doesn't - doesn't that seem morbid?" he says, and feels a dim sense of panic at the fact that he can't summon up a stronger objection. Surely a no would be enough? And yet. He finds it difficult to approach the subject head on. "If you call me something - something ghostlike, then that's what I'll turn out to be, right?"

The worst part is... a no would stop it, wouldn't it? Martin feels almost certain that if he objected, it would be over.

But this is the truth, isn't it?

"Oh, it's hardly predictive, I'm sure. Here, I'll prove it, if you don't mind?" And there it is, an opportunity to yell out, to deny, to change what's about to happen.

Edited 2020-04-02 12:46 (UTC)

He can hear it. Feel it with all of his being - that if he doesn't speak up now he will lose his chance, and whatever this man names him will cling to his soul more powerfully than anything else he has at the moment. Perhaps more than anything that he ever gets back too.

He opens his mouth to speak, but his mouth is dry. The words he wants won't come. Instead, he finds himself shaking his head softly - clearly, an "I don't mind at all" rather than a "please don't."

He gives Martin a fatherly smile. "There's a good sport."

"Then without any further ado," his hand lifts like a conductor, and presses a single finger to Martin's forehead, over 'the third eye'.

"Your name is Wisp." His voice goes low, almost a hiss at each of those four, damning words. It wraps around his mind like a lover, sinking into his soul and taking root there violently. The Knowledge opens up in his mind like a starburst, drowning anything and everything else he could have been. Will-o-the-Wisp, Wisp for short. It's who he WAS and there was nothing he could do to be anything else ever again. He Knows it, now.

Oh god. Oh god. He trembles in truth as that terrible compulsion takes root deep inside of him. Hot tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he shivers from the searing light that scours his brain for any hint of whatever dim instincts might recognise his own name when he does encounter it.

(Martin) - ~~Martin~~ - Martin -

Wisp blinks hard, fighting back those few rogue tears, and gulps in air for a moment. He knows what was done to him - knows his name is gone - but he can't do anything about it. Can't say anything either, because how could he? Clearly Wisp is his name and there's nothing else anyone could possibly call him. It would be like telling people that his hair isn't red, or they aren't currently living in a cave.

(His hands fade out slightly; they look distinctly wispier than they did a moment before.)

"Why," he says after, his voice a whisper. It's the only thing he can manage after having what little remains of his identity burned clean.

Edited 2020-04-02 15:06 (UTC)

"Hm. It seems you were right." (Elias) watches Wisp's hands soften gently, becoming even more ... questionable. What a fascinating effect. "Well, what's done is done. Good on you for your stirring initiative on the matter. I'll have to consider my own carefully."

Not even a thought towards trying to undo it? Wisp grits his teeth unhappily, but even with this short amount of time in the man's presence, he's certain that protesting won't do him the slightest bit of good. Or it would saddle him with a name that's somehow worse.

Even so. He tucks the misted hands under his arms, forcing himself to tremble less and glare more. It's ... somewhat successful. "I could certainly think of a few things to call you."

"Really?" There's something in the way he says it that draws it out with a certain loving menace. "Lets hear them. Only fair, I say."

Ugh, there's that compulsion tugging at him again. Even a mild pull is enough to tug him along ... as is his profound unhappiness. What good does it do to call this man ugly names? None at all. And yet.

"You're a right arse, for - for starters," he stammers out. "Bastard. Complete wanker."

He pushes at his nose, as if readjusting glasses. Finding nothing there seems to ... vaguely startle him in a way he can't quite put a finger on.

"Well, the foremost and lattermost are right out. Two word pejoratives just don't have the same ring. Bastard, though. Well, I'll have to put that to our other little member."

He makes a pleased sound. "I do think I might like that."

Seriously? Seriously? Wisp stares at him, all the more unhappily for this - well - Bastard apparently taking the suggestions seriously. Why does literally everything he do backfire?

"Bastard it is then," he says, his voice cutting off in a snap. "I don't think our other teammate will mind much. Especially when I tell him what you've done to me."

His voice wavers on that last bit, though. What exactly is he going to say? That Bastard named him? Their other teammate isn't going to see anything but Wisp when he looks at Wisp now.

"Gave you a name?" Bastard purrs, knowing exactly what Wisp seems to be thinking, already. "And you gave me one. I don't think it's too bad, all in all."

Wisp chokes a little at that, glowering at their feet. "Yours is so much worse," he says, though again his tone is just ... despairing. Literally no one is going to look at Wisp and Bastard and assume that Bastard is the victim here. He's been outplayed by himself.

"See, nothing to complain about at all. I could have been as cruel as you were." Bastard smiles, tone upbeat and manager cheer. "Now, seen everything you wanted to, Wisp?"

Wisp flinches at his name, but he can only sag his shoulders in utter defeat. A silent you win.

"I - I haven't seen your tube there," he says, gesturing weakly at the spyglass on the bed. "Can I at least do that?"

"Go right ahead." He even steps aside, allowing Wisp more room.

When Wisp does pick it up, the same bastard is shown in clear relief. In a suit, tie, immaculately composed. There's no hesitation, no despair, not even an ounce of regret. "Oh, just do what feels ...... right. You'll Know what to do." He smiles, sharp and gleeful. "I do this willingly."

Edited 2020-04-02 17:34 (UTC)

"R-right. Okay, thank you," he says, glad to at least get that small concession? Of course it doesn't feel like that coming from this Bastard, smug as he is.

Doubly smug, good lord. That message is just ... Wisp is certain he's at least named the man accurately. He just sort of stares at the tube for a moment, mouth open.

"Seems like we both got off on a bit of a different foot." Bastard shakes his head, exuding sympathy. "I suppose you can't be blamed, leaving yourself such a dire outlook to begin. Why, I imagine I'd be a bit jumpy too."

Wisp doesn't want your sympathy, dammit. All the good natured charm in the world won't put a dent into the compulsion defining him right now. "And what, you really get that much confidence from yourself?"

"Hard to tell. We both seem to match that first glimpse into ourselves." He taps a finger to his lips, thoughtfully. "Well, we have one variable who hasn't seen his. I say, we take a look before he can. Compare."

Wisp blinks at that - but there's a telltale brightening of curiosity before he glares again. "That would be invading his privacy."

"It would."

He's already out the door.

Oh for the love of -

"You - you bastard, wait a moment!" If this terrible man is going to violate (Jon)'s privacy, Wisp is at least going to be there.

"Curiosity is seductive, isn't it, Wisp? So easy to package this in outrage and moral judgements, but you want to Know. Don't you?" It's casual chatter as he opens (Jon's) door for him.

Wisp reddens at that, the colour strange on his otherwise pale face. "I - I'm just trying to keep you from being a colossal snoop," he says unhappily.