Nov 23 00:14:29 106 PA - Psychic Sledgehammers
From Chronicles
The players in this RP rolled for psionic combat.
The current game time is: Wed Nov 23 00:14:29 106 PA.
The Kingsdale Plaza Park stretches out to the west approximately sixteen-hundred feet until it meets with a residential area. The ground is covered with sporadic grass and wild flowers. Deep craters from some long-ago weapons fire cover this area of the park making the ground uneven and in some places difficult to walk. Nonetheless, this area has seen extensive use by the people of Kingsdale. Bike trails criss-cross the area and one of the craters has been filled with water where duck and other water birds come. These waterfoul seem to have quite a good living too, with people almost always present to feed them.
Here and there are stands of conifer trees that people often sit beneath to read and otherwise forget the trials and tribulations of city life. The exception to this is during the night though, and nobody comes to the park after dark unless they are either foolhardy in the extreme or looking for trouble.
The wind blows through the area unhampered and on good days it carries with it the laughter of children feeding ducks and the sweet scent of pine and wild flowers.
Benches and places to sit are also scattered through the park area, and to the south is a Pavillion of five statues -- all previous dictators and people of note to Kingsdale's past.
Weather at Wed Nov 23 00:17:17 106 PA (-5.66C, 21.82F): Indecisive wind churns a moderate snow fall from wavy ridges of clouds overhead.
The weather has taken a change for the worse, with snow falling from the heavy clouds overhead. The wind swirls it around the feet of those few willing to come out into the cold, to brave the weather. One of these has a black rain coat on, with an umbrella made apparently from black lace, keeping the worse of the snow from landing on her hair. She is pacing, talking to herself, near the trees by the mud puddle. The ducks are listening with what could be irritation as she pauses near them.
Mikjel wanders toward the craters, a metal cage in one hand, a loaf of bread in the other. He doesn't seem particularly bothered by the lousy weather as he noda a greeting to the woman and begins carefully observing the ducks.
Maya turns around to face the man, narrowing her eyes at him. A brief glance takes in the bread and the cage before she rests one hand on her hips, the other holding the umbrella. "Which sounds better as a first question? I like you. Would you like to have dinner or I love you, come home and make mad, dirty love with me?" She asks, her forehead creased.
Mikjel looks at her, considering the question. "Suppose it depends on who you're asking and whether you're after a fuck or a wedding ring." He watches the ducks for a while longer, finally finding the correct one and waving happily to it. "Were you asking me, I'd prefer the latter, but since you're asking in a hypothetical way, means you ain't and, seeing as I don't know your intentions towards them, I can't rightly say."
Maya considers his reply, her face set in serious lines before she nods. "I'll start with the one, hope for the other." She comments thoughtfully, "Which works for which? I mean, like is not a strong term for the feelings, but love, that is a scary word, and he might go whooosh, leaving no trace at all. But saying Hi, I like you, well he knows I like him, I work with him and we are friends. Well, friendly, anyhow. I'm his friend anyhow." The words are definitely babble, and she sighs, tilting the umbrella back to look up at the sky.
Mikjel squats next to the crater, tossing a piece of bread toward his chosen duck. "Well, say I was you. What I'd be aiming for is the fuck. That way, he knows he ain't making it up that I like him. And, well, if you all end up not liking each other, at least you all got something out of the arrangement, not just a meal and a drink." He watches the duck carefully, noting that it seems to have become warier. It inly goes for the bread when it's right nearby, rather than paddling eagerly toward him.
Maya moves near him, settling herself so she is sitting on her coat. Her arms rest on her bent knees and she listens thoughtfully. "He is a priest, I don't think he is into casual sex." She comments thoughtfully, "But I see where you are going." She nods, nibbling on her lower lip. "Do you have someone? I mean, I haven't seen you here much before and you are here now, and I wondered." A moment's hesitation before she adds, "You don't have to tell me."
Mikjel glances over at her, grinning. "Well, if he's a preacher, don't he just have to confess that he did it before getting right back to it?" A wink and, "Who knows, maybe there's something in that book of his about how to get a man into bed with you. As for me, no, I ain't got nobody. Not nomore, leastwise."
Maya returns the grin, her fingers curling to frame her face as her grin widens at the wink. "Not sure of the religion. I should find that out. I mean, if he was, then it makes it a whole lot easier." She sighs then, the grin fading. "Not nomore sounds sad. I mean, it might have been a good thing. After all not all relationships are good ones, which is why I haven't bothered with them before, they seem so messy..."
Mikjel shrugs. "Was a good thing. Now it's over. It's the way it goes." He turns back to the duck, offering it another bit of bread, a little closer. It does paddle nearer, but watches him warily as it does. Watching the duck, in a wholly serious tone, he says, "Yup. Might turn out he's a part of the first church of Juan, patron saint of sex on the first date. Or, might go bad. Might be his church makes them all get smipped so they ain't gonna forget their vows."
Maya's face holds sympathy as she looks at him, a steady thoughtful gaze, her grin faded. His last comment brings the grin back and she shakes her head. "He doesn't strike me as extreme..." She sighs, leaning her chin in her hands, watching the duck for a moment.
Mikjel shrugs, continuing his speech in the same deadpan tone, "Now, he might be one of them preachers who think that it's alright for anyone else to have hot and lusty thoughts, but he can't. Which ain't extreme, but might just be worse for you all. Or, he might be just a guy with a holy book, which, I'm guessing, you might want to be hoping for, since then he ain't no different than any other conquest." His thoughts are placid and vaguely amused as he tosses another piece of bread to the duck.
"I'm not thinking of him like the others, Mikjel." Maya's tone is softer, her gaze resting thoughtfully on him, "He is different. I don't love anyone else, haven't ever." She rests her cheek against her folded arms, using her knees as a table. Hazel eyes are thoughtful, resting on him. "What happened with your love?" The question is softly asked, the hazel eyes watching his face.
Mikjel watches the duck paddle a little nearer. "Funny. You're the second person to ask me what I thought about love in two days." His mind betrays irritation at that statement before he continues, "My wife, she got sick with the cough while I was away and died. I got back, she was already in the ground." As he says this, his face remains blank, but inside, the words LIES LIES GUILT LIES GUILT LIES are echoing through him.
Maya's eyebrows fly up, her face less able to lie than his and she sits up. "Really? What type of cough?" She asks the questions a little sharper than normal, her gaze studying his face, seeking some indication of the feelings she sensed. "Do you feel bad for not being there?" The logical explanation she hopes for, her eyes studying him.
Mikjel calmly tosses a piece of bread toward the duck, but overshoots. "Were the cough. You know, the kind where it starts, then goes bloody, then you all don't have lungs no more? The cough." Internally, he calms a little, irritation replacing shouting, and the duck paddles away from him. "I'm torn on that. I'd have wanted to be there, but I don't reckon as she'd have wanted me to. Not to see her weak and dying." Again the shouting starts up. The guilt, tinged with fear, is strong enough that this lie must be practiced and prepared for him to repeat it this easily.
Maya stares at him in silence for a moment, her teeth capturing her lower lip, leaving white indents there for a moment. Her face is stricken, hazel eyes widening. "Mik... Mikjel. You know there are folks around here with senses that aren't entirely standard?" She asks the question, aiming at casual, as if it were another topic entirely. Her fingers tighten on the umbrella handle, as she watches him.
Mikjel nods slowly. "Yup." His mind snaps shut as he says it. Shouting replaced with abrupt silence. He watches the duck drift away, snagging the piece of bread and continuing toward the other edge of the crater. "This is the point where you casually mention that you've been reading my mind without asking me, ain't it?"
"Not reading." Maya replies slowly, turning to study the duck also. Never has a duck received so much attention. "Just feelings, sometimes I do it without thinking. I wanted to know I wasn't intruding." Her own feelings are clear and loud, worry for him, worry for herself and guilt at using it without asking, clear and loud. She closes the umbrella, putting it down in the snow. "I apologise."
Mikjel shrugs, watching the duck swim away. "Are you doing it right now? If it's just feelings, I figure that's all right. Had years to work on keeping those the way I want them." The duck reaches the other edge of the pond and swallows the hunk of bread, quacking triumphantly. "Ain't polite, but it's a damn sight more polite than poking around in thoughts and memories. Them things can do a number on you sometimes if you all see something you ain't hoping for."
Maya turns her head, a startled burst of emotion from her. A burst of guilt, fear and then she twists to face him, sitting with her legs crossed indian style, in the muddy snow. "I've never practiced keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself." She comments, giving him a steady look, her eyebrows drawn together in a pucker.
Mikjel turns his head slowly away from the duck to look her in the eyes. "Useful skill sometimes. Plenty of times, it ain't good to be acting on impulses." Sight. Never take the shot wild. You have all the time in the world to take the shot. "If I were to act on impulses, I might never be getting my Woody over there." His head tilts toward the duck. The first step is to know how to breathe. Until you know how to breathe, you are all useless to me. Unless you learn how to breathe, I will leave you in the woods for the bugs. "Aix spensa. Wood duck. Hence the name. Well, that and it lets me make long rambling jokes where I try and fit dick jokes into every sentence." Once you can breathe, you are merely worthless. But once you can breathe, you've at least begun to understand control.
Mikjel turns his head slowly away from the duck to look her in the eyes. "Useful skill sometimes. Plenty of times, it ain't good to be acting on impulses." Sight. Never take the shot wild. You have all the time in the world to take the shot. "If I were to act on impulses, I might never be getting my Woody over there." His head tilts toward the duck. The first step is to know how to breathe. Until you know how to breathe, you are all useless to me. Unless you learn how to breathe, I will leave you in the woods for the bugs. "Aix spensa. Wood duck. Hence the name. Well, that and it lets me make long rambling jokes where I try and fit dick jokes into every sentence." Once you can breathe, you are merely worthless. But once you can breathe, you've at least begun to understand control.
Mikjel turns his head slowly away from the duck to look her in the eyes. "Useful skill sometimes. Plenty of times, it ain't good to be acting on impulses." =Sight. Never take the shot wild. You have all the time in the world to take the shot.= "If I were to act on impulses, I might never be getting my Woody over there." His head tilts toward the duck. =The first step is to know how to breathe. Until you know how to breathe, you are all useless to me. Unless you learn how to breathe, I will leave you in the woods for the bugs.= "Aix spensa. Wood duck. Hence the name. Well, that and it lets me make long rambling jokes where I try and fit dick jokes into every sentence." =Once you can breathe, you are merely worthless. But once you can breathe, you've at least begun to understand control.=
Maya's face pales slightly as she returns the gaze steadily, forcing herself to do so. "Better sometimes to get your story straight, didn't you say?" She is almost holding her breath but her emotions are her own again, hidden behind control that she does have. "I've not seen that cough before." She mentions that almost casually, returning the look with one of her own, assessing him. She reaches for the umbrella without looking, folding it down.
Mikjel shrugs, continuing to look her in the eyes, his face blank. His voice has lost any shred of emotion whatsoever as he replies, "My story is straight. My story has been straight for going on ten years. Ain't wavered one inch." =What are you accusing me of? Are you claiming that I betrayed my kin? Me? After all this time, you're calling me a collaborator?= "Just ain't used to having my skull fucked, neither." He tears a piece of bread from the loaf and, without moving his eyes, tosses it sideways into the puddle. It lands in the centre and the duck makes no move to chase it. =Psychic, psychic, hanging from a tree / Next to her, there swings a D-Bee= "Ain't like I'm used to it just happening from random folk, just like I ain't terribly used to folk asking me about love." =They fuck skulls, they rape minds / They all deserve to pay for their crimes.=
Maya stares at him in silence for a long moment before she nods slowly, her cheeks paling and then flushing slightly. Her gaze drops then, staring at the duck as a flash of emotion breaks through control, revealing fear, guilt, and definitely panic at his little internal song just before she scrambles to her feet. "I think I need to go and work." She speaks slowly, her voice a little higher than normal, "To the blind, perhaps the seeing are intruding." She turns then, aiming to walk away, but her gaze keeps him in sight...just in case.
Mikjel shrugs at her, asking in a clear voice, completely calm, "How much did you actually see?" =Did she see me kill Sky? Did I think anything that could be used against us?= "You saw more than you said. And you think I might kill you. I ain't psychic, but it don't take magic to tell that." =To humans, maybe the seeing are a threat= "To the blind, maybe the seeing are fucking terrifying. I'm scared of you. I ain't gonna hurt you, though." =I should= "Round here, I expect this kinda thing ain't terribly uncommon, folks accidentally looking into other folks' minds." =That's why they're a threat=
Maya stops dead in her tracks, turning slowly as if he had turned into something horrific. She is pale, instant colour loss, and she takes steps backwards, shaking her head. "I can hear you thinking." Her voice is a hourse whisper, her emotions shut down, held close to her. "I think what I heard is worth killing over. People kill over money, not just over.." She hesitates, seeking a word but shakes her head slowly. "Murdering someone." She is backing up, watching him warily for sudden movements, "You say one thing, think another, Mikjel."
Mikjel is sitting next to a crater. He doesn't stand up. He holds up his hands, though, to show that he is only armed with stale bread. =I should have taken improvised combat= "I ain't armed. No sense. Weren't planning to be attacked." =Or skull-fucked.= "And folks kill for lots of reasons. Most of them are shitty reasons." =Mine never were= "Mine never were. And I reckon that, if you wanted to, you could come back with a gun and blow my brains out over the grass. And I ain't gonna run and get one of my own because then you'd be right, and you ain't" =And I'm a coward=
Maya stands still, facing him, the retreat slowed, the emotions returning as the fear slows down. "I didn't attack you." She hesitates, a flicker of a frown, before she speaks slowly. "I'm sorry. I think you are right. It is an intrusion but it is not something...controlled, planned to do. I apologise." Still, fear of him flickers in her emotions, and she comes no closer, but does not pull away either. "I don't kill. I took an oath, do no harm." Intense guilt over the harm she is causing now, and she shakes her head. "Why did you do it?"
Mikjel pulls a piece of bread from the loaf. Still without looking away from her eyes, he tosses it toward the puddle. It lands near him, in the mud. "What do you see? Can you see my memories, or do you just hear what I'm thinking right now?" The duck, at the other end of the puddle, quacks plaintively but is ignored. =If she saw memories, she saw faces, I don't think she saw locations, why was I never trained to not think=
Alistair is running - but not like he was running last time; when visible through the veil of snow, he's ploughing through that hole about as fast is he can. It resists, it's sticky and wants to keep him there, mud splashing around him - as he makes it across he changes course enough to avoid splashing other people though - that would be impolite. One question might be, of course, who's chasing him?
Maya gets the wave of emotion under control, blocking everyone out as she moves her arms to hug herself, staring down at him. "I hear you thinking. I don't see her face, or where it happened. It doesn't work like that for me. It might for others." Her voice is low, hoarse, her cheeks remain pale as she stares at him. "You were trained?" =Why did you kill Sky?= Sent from her mind into his, a message private to them.
Mikjel nods, slowly at her. As the message enters his head, he blanches briefly. No words then, just a scream echoing back. His breath becomes slow, even, and the scream quiets, fades. "In that case, I'll use words rather than letting you look at my memories until you've got piss running down your legs. Just imagine. Imagine you walked into a clearing and saw your three best friends, guts, shit and blood everywhere. Imagine you saw the thing that did it staring at you. Imagine slipping as you try to run because your foot landed on a bit that ain't supposed to be outside a body." =Fuck Wisconsin. Fuck Wisconsin. Fuck Wisconsin= "Imagine a man, caked in shit, blood crusted around where his eyes used to be. Imagine knowing that he clawed them out because of the things a psychic did to him. Then think about the fact that all he did wrong was stack a deck of cards." =He thanked me. Poor fucker thanked me before I shot him= "Imagine walking into a town and having everyone there turn and beginning to walk at you, faces blank, hands clawing and grabbing at you because someone decided they wanted slaves. Imagine saying you were sorry each time you pulled the trigger. Imagine keeping control long enough to find the skull-fucker and shoot one last time without any apology at all, because if you let yourself look at the bodies, you ain't gonna have the strength to do anything but put the gun in your own mouth." He continues breathing, slowly and regularly. "I hope you listened," =both ways= "and I hope that you understand that, whatever you imagined, it was worse."
Alistair keeps running until he's across the watery obstacle; it's probably not very likely that he'd intentionally ignore people he knows, but he keeps on going until he reaches a tree where he proceeds to walk around it in circles a few times, looking at something in his hand, then stowing that in a pocket.
Maya stares at him, what little colour she had in her cheeks fading as she listens to him, both ways. She swallows, her knuckles white where her fingers tighten around the handle of the umbrella. "I'm listening." She speaks, her voice barely a whisper. "I thought... I'm sorry." The last mirrors the sympathy in her eyes, the understanding in her face obvious. "I thought it was your wife." Those are a soft confession, an apologetic tone expressing for her what words cannot. She takes a couple of steps forward, towards him, her gaze on his face. "I can't imagine that. People here, they aren't like that." The horror in her soft voice is mirrored in her eyes, as she shakes her head, returning to kneel beside him. "I'm sorry." She repeats the words, hazel eyes shimmering with tears. Alistair is not seen, the woman's focus entirely on the man in front of her, and she blinks rapidly to dispel the tears.
Mikjel barely notices Alistair passing. His eyes are fixed on Maya and his voice remains calm, level, flat. "Only crazy people get nice reasons about killing. Only crazy people ain't gonna wake up in the middle of the night," =every night= "because they can smell the shit and brains and blood covering them. Every fucking day, I ask myself if I can still remember what these hands have done." =Because the day I can't is the day that I'm crazy and need to be put down=
More or less oblivious to the serious conversation - other than it being serious perhaps, Alistair finishes his walk about of the tree and exhales, removing a snack from his pocket to eat, sitting down by the root of the tree. Perhaps it isn't very appetizing, because he takes his time eating it.
Maya's gaze stays fixed on Mikjel, her face stricken. "Someone could take those memories from you." She speaks softly, almost a whisper, her eyes wide and glittering. Then his last comment brings a flood of sympathy to her face and she moves in one movement to hug him tightly, kneeling close to him. "I'm sorry... you aren't crazy." She is whispering the words as she hugs him tightly, oblivious to Alistair's presence. "You don't sleep?"
Mikjel wraps his arms around her, hugging her back and holding her against him, as he says, still calmly, "I want to be the only one fucking with my head. Right now, I know that my thoughts, my memories, my life, they're real. Start fixing them, I don't know what's real and what's not. And I sleep." =An hour at a time= He continues, low and quiet, his tone cautionary, striving for reassuring and falling short. "But that's why you all shouldn't go poking in people's brains without asking." =Don't ever fucking cut open my skull again= "How'd it be if I'd told you the same things and I'd enjoyed every second of it like it were the best, most mind-blowing sex I'd ever had? What if you liked it too? If I could see in peoples' heads, I wouldn't have the balls to do it. Not once." He lets go of her, expecting her to do the sensible thing and step back.
Alistair is stil under the tree, with the snack - he looks up, his eyes tracking a snowflake, but the attempt is moot since one can focus on such a thing for a moment before it becomes lost in the plethora of likes. "Uh ... " he blinks his eyes, making a bit of a face at this thing or the other, and then he takes another bite from the bar, his expression a bit determined - for a moment at least.
Maya isn't known for sensible, and she doesn't step back or release him. The hug tightens in response to his words, spoken or not, but she does move her hand to brush against her cheek. "I'm sorry. I'll try to stay out of your head. But you need to find a way to deal with it, so you can sleep." She speaks the words from her position at the side of his cheek, her face hidden in his shoulder. =I'm so sorry.= The thought is loud enough to be in his mind, accidentally, heartfelt emotion mixed with the words. She sits back then, sitting on her heels and looking up at him.
Mikjel reaches out and takes her hand, squeezing it gently. He stands, looking into her eyes and says, "I ought to be going. Scared Woody. Have to try again tomorrow." =If you change your mind, just remember that I've never done anything wrong or illegal in Kingsdale. But if you change your mind, whoever comes to put me down can find me in Dregtown= He picks up the cage and the piece of bread, juggling them into one hand, before bending to offer a kiss to the top of her head.
With the snack finished, Alistair packs the wrapper into his pocket, leaning to the side a little as he does so; he claps his hands together, closing his eyes for a moment. Not much time passes before he sets his hands in his lap and looks up again. Feeling the desire to capture a snowflake he extends his hand to do so.
Maya's expression is speaking, as she nods slowly, accepting the words spoken aloud. "I won't." She replies softly, speaking to the thoughts in his head, even as she shuts down the ability, closing it tightly inside her. She lets him kiss her head, unmoving as he does so, and she stares at him, her hazel eyes glittering. The makeup she wears around her eyes is smudged, a slight pandaish style to it now.
Mikjel presses a soft kiss to the top of her brow. He squeezes her shoulder with his free hand and whispers, "Thank you," lips brushing skin and hair, breath warm in the wintery air. He stands and walks away down the path, slow and calm.
Alistair brings his hand close to his face. He looks curious at first; his eyes widen a little, then he smiles faintly and moves that hand back into his lap, knees drawing up towards him slightly, and the smile fades too. Next is a glance towards the crater, and then the ground where the snow falls.
Maya sits, letting him walk away. She stares into the mud pool, watching the snow fall in front of her eyes, unseeing. She moves a little to hug her knees, thinking too hard, barely seeing around her as Mikjel leaves, and Alistair is not seen. A hand rises a few times to brush tears from her cheeks.
Alistair stands up slowly, brushing himself off, though the mud makes it sort of pointless. He sighs softly and stomps his feet to have some of it come off, but then he quickly starts to head in Maya's direction. Upon reaching her he hesitates for a moment, then he states, "Miss Maya, your tears are running! I mean - they'll freeze!" he manages to blush at this making a face as he leans in a little. "Uh ... are you okay?" he asks, concerned.
Maya does rapid makeup removing fingertip action, turning her head to hide it as soon as Alistair speaks. "Uh, Mister Alistair." She aims for mocking, in a voice that is hoarse and choked up with tears. "I just made a mistake." She shakes her head, turning to look up at him, her face reflecting the feelings of guilt inside the woman. "I'm meant to do no harm and I just... hurt someone." Blame is heavy in her voice, wholly pointed at herself.
"At least say it like that guy in the movie" Alistair mock-complains, pouting slightly. He puts a hand on her head, a bit of an awkward attempt to pet her hair. "I know the feeling, though maybe the circumstances are not the same" he murmurs, eyes widening a little as he tries to forget his own things at least for a moment. "I hope this person will forgive you - and then you just have to forgive yourself. After all you didn't mean it, and you'll try not to do it again, right? So it'll be alright - when it's over you'll breathe again."
The mention of breathing might be unfortunate, because it brings a flush to her cheeks and she shakes her head, closing her eyes for a moment. "The inside of other people's heads should stay private." She murmurs them softly, "What movie?" She scrambles to her feet, picking up her umbrella, and turning to him. "I didn't mean to, I felt an emotion from him and it didn't fit what he was saying so I looked... I shouldn't have. That poor man." She shakes her head again.
Alistair straightens up when she stands; he nods, "They should - I suppose unless they choose to share, but ... " he blinks his eyes, watching her. "I think that part is important - that you didn't mean to ... will you be okay? Would you like me to walk you somwhere?" he asks, "Or, um ... " he withdraws a flask from his jacket - it's small, but the contents are likely predictable, "If you would like a bit ... "
Maya hesitates, tempted for a moment but she shakes her head to the offer. The rest she replies slowly to. "I didn't intend the first moment but I did carry on once I saw..." A hesitation, and her eyes show horror before she looks away, "What was in there. I did pick to see if I could understand, if it was what I thought. That was wrong of me." Wholehearted condemnation of her own actions over, she gives Alistair a small smile, forced, "I should get to work. Corpses wait for no woman."
Alistair tilts his head a little, smiling faintly; the flask is hidden, and he blushes faintly, "Not that I drink much at all, it just seems to come in handy sometimes" he mumbles, watching her. "Oh ... " he blinks, his expression becomeing serious again, "I think you've already paid the price for it then" he offers, and leans in to hug her for a moment. "You should take the day off instead I think."
Maya accepts the hug, returning it with a touch of her normal enthusiasm. "I mean they literally don't. The KDPD will track me down and demand results if I don't get on with them." A touch of humour in her eyes and she leans in to drop a kiss on his cheek. "If things go wrong later, you can get me drunk out of my mind." She promises before she turns to walk away.
"Oh - but don't they have a sick leave thing?" Alistair asks, curiously. He doesn't push the issue though - there's a blush at the kiss, but now it's his turn to look guilty - or something of that form anyway - "I hope nothing goes wrong then - this drunk thing, not so fun ... um - I guess just for me though" he murmurs.
