All together now (binary_star) wrote in nybynightic, @ 2020-09-04 20:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | activity type: log/thread, character: cian, character: the confluence |
Who: The Confluence (Open to Cian/Julian)
What: A little lost grip, working just a bit too much.
When: Sept 4th, Mid-evening
Where: His home
Warnings: Some madness. Self-harm.
He had been dreaming. It was a curse, the dreaming. His sleep wasn't as peaceful as it ought to be, considering he was fucking dead. So Tobias (in his head, right now, he was Tobias and not The Confluence) had awoken early and ended up right back at the machines. The room that was supposed to be a simple, elegant office space was filled to the brim with desks, monitors, machines, cords, and cables. With the floor being marble, he was able to roll between desks in a sturdy but comfortable chair, typing away here and there. It was a mess that only Tobias, the Confluence, understood.
Servers and PCs ran through every New York City post that might contain talk of Kindreds or images or videos and hacked the accounts through bots, deleting the evidence as it spread. There was a cluster of monitors that seemed to be dedicated to pornography but he wasn't paying attention to that one. One series of computers and servers was dedicated to tracing Smiler and that was what was bothering him the most. That was what kept him awake most nights. He would get so close and then the fucker would slip away. Just a little bit more, a little bit longer, a little bit better. But he wasn't getting better or faster or any of the things he needed to be.
So he was pacing and his hands were pulling at his curly hair. His gaze was... somewhere else, lost in his frustration. A hard beat played in his head and words just kept repeating: Release my mind from your grip. Release my name from your lips. Poison, poison. Invaded, invaded. Release my mind from your grip. Voices seeped through, whispering in his ears. Virginia and Salvadore were particularly persistent tonight, begging him for his attention. They loved him. Why couldn't he see how much they loved him? Let them stay. They needed to stay. They wanted to stay. The light was too bright and they wanted the dark desperately.
His mother was in his peripherals, sobbing. Some nights, that was all she did. She sat and sobbed. And it was a rare night when his father was shouting at him. Failure! You fucking disappointment. Can't even manage one simple task. He had provided just so much just for his son to be a ridiculous fop and a failure. Part of Tobias wanted to jam a screwdriver in his ears to make the voices stop but he knew it wouldn't help. He'd done it before and they'd just been there, in his head even as he healed.
Instead, he was beating his head on a doorframe in the same rhythm that was stuck in his head, the words poison, invaded, release my mind just kept repeating in a broken loop. It was a good twenty minutes of that, locked away in his office, leaving a bloody smear on white paint, when he suddenly stopped and was just sitting on the ground, staring into space. And he was speaking in short sentences to... Something but it was in seventeenth-century Dutch. Tobias no longer saw the house but the empty island land as it had been when the area was being settled by the Dutch as Staaten Eylandt. Twice failed, twice beaten away by the Native peoples.
So there he sat, lost in time, muttering in Dutch while his computers whirred behind him...