2020-01-15 - Dammit, August Was Right. Now We'll Never Hear the End of It.

after a surprise, but welcome text from Alexander reaching out (at August Roen's suggestion), and lunch was agreed upon. Ignacio's up but he's got the crutches back (that he hates. Welcome to the quiet seetihing), and is forcing himself to stand long enough to answer the door. "Hey, c'mon in. I pulled up places that deliver." There's a pause and while there's some unease he looks to Alexander and follwos up with, "I appreciate teh help. Also, belated happy birthday." Turning it's evident there's a hitchiker in his hood. Miss Mags, teh rat, is using it as her personal hammock. Today in her yellow sundress.

Alexander arrives on the doorstep, looking a bit hoboish, as usual. His right hand is bandaged, and he moves a bit stiffly, although it doesn't seem to slow him down. He's got some books tucked underneath one arm. He regards Ignacio warily. "Delivery sounds good. Thank you." A shake of his head. "It's the least I can do. Fucking around with people's heads when you don't mean to sucks. I'm happy enough to help anyone avoid that." When the man turns around, he catches sight of the rat, and smiles. "That is a very tolerant creature. I didn't know they even made dresses that tiny. I don't think Luigi would put up with it, psychic or no psychic."

Ignacio is leaning heavy to the right side but is still taking a slow time of it. It's Gray Harbor, where everyone gets rekt. "That hand isn't still from teh snow storm is it? We finally just warmed up a day or so ago." To the kitchen table he goes. It's one of the original mid-century pieces in the house. "Abulita made them for her. She's got a tiny flotilla of little hats too." He invites, "Mags, shoulddo the fashion show for him." Sure as shit she does crawl up onto Ignacio's shoulder and turn in a circle and back around to look at Alexander, curious. itting he takes the crutches off his arms and lowers himself into the chair so he doesn' land with a thud. "More direct he admits, "Yeah my, um, my mood's gotten away from me and my therapist went back to LA so... it's been a lot of trying to bang around in teh dark."

"No. A doll wanted to hold my hand," Alexander says. He trails along behind Ignacio, eyeing the rat with interest. When she turns around to look at him, he slowly raises a hand to let her sniff at his skin, before Ignacio sits down. Then he puts the books near the other man - there's a varied collection of puzzle and brain game books. "Since you're grounded for a bit," he says, as an explanation, then moves to take a seat on the other side of the table. "Dr. Glass?" A pause. "She was mine as well, although I never did very well in therapy. But yes, it can be hard." He gives Ignacio a thoughtful once over. "What is it that you think would be most helpful, from me?"

Ignacio pauses "A doll..." His palms rest on the table, thumbs bouncing on the surface; focus on Alexander as he stops describing. "Okay you know hwhat, sure. A doll. Did it bite? Was it corrosive? Was it sad? Are you alright? Is this nightmare inducing?" Yup, he swallowed the... whatever pill that makes you opt to stay awake. Hell never remember if it's red or blue, but fuck it. Why not!

Hands move to the puzzle books interested and curious, "Yeah. Dr. Glass. I'll admit I'm a terrible patient. As much as I keep saying the truth is terrible no one wants to hear it?" There's a pause and he admits to Alexander, "I... I kinda do. " What does he think would be helpful!? Good one. "Well for starters? How do you, um... Sometimes I have trouble realizing if I'm in my head or tht's stuff leaking out into the waking world. What's some of your methodology for dealing with that?"

"A doll." Alexander blinks at the line of questions, although he seems amused. "They didn't really bite, or corrode. They seemed to want to kill us and use our parts to make themselves real. One of them was possibly the ghost of a little girl who disappeared a long time ago, so yes, it was a little sad. I'll be okay. And yes, there will be nightmares." A pause as he counts back. "I think that's got all the questions?" A flicker of a smile.

He admits, "So do I. Objectively, my life would be a lot better if I could forget all about this shit and run away somewhere sane. And yet." He's here. He shrugs, resigned, then turns his attention back to the question. "Realizing that you're in your head...or other people's?" He smiles, briefly, but then says, "I had to learn what it felt like to be using my abilities, even when I wasn't consciously intending to. When I was a kid, I used it all the time, without even thinking about it. When I realized how destructive that was, I had to teach myself to be...deliberate. There's a feeling when you're extending yourself. You need to identify it. I can show you from my perspective, but I think it's a little different for each person."

Ignacio squares up at the table and just accepts Gray Harbor is... well...Gray Harbor. Taking a deep breath he listens to the answers to find the things that can be worked with. "Sooo Pinocchio meets Buffalo Bill. Nice." It is not. His jaw sets thoughtfully and there's a lot of math going through his expression. and in the end a sympathetic look, "Like a lil girl that never got to grow up? Mierda, that... sucks. I mean she's going about dealing with it in a shit way but I don't think I get to throw that stone this month." He regards Alexander...cautiously? "I'm glad you're, ya know... alive though." Alright feels distinctly like the wrong word to be using.

The discussion about deliberate intent sets his wheels thinking. Fingers fold leaving his index fingers to steeple and press to the divot in his lip. They tap there really letting his process. Looking up to him he asks hesitantly, "Could... you show me?" What he is presently hearing is: life will never not be completely tiring for you but also there's hope, and hope? well that's not a feeling he's had in a minute.

"It's always harder when it's a kid," Alexander says, although his voice remains toneless. "And I don't know if it's any part of her spirit, or just...things taking her face and pain for their own purposes. There's still a lot I don't know about over there," he admits. "I think Itzhak probably knows more, and he's been here less than a year. I just survived." A quick flash of a smile. "Thanks. I'm glad you're also alive. That snow...I've never been in anything quite like that before, and it was terrible."

But he falls silent as Ignacio thinks, waiting for the man's judgment, one way or the other. He nods. "Of course. I don't know if you've done much communication mind-to-mind, before? But I'll reach out, and you can just let me in. I'll show you what I mean, and then slip away. I won't impose anything on you, and you don't have to worry about reading anything from me I don't want you to see." He's quite sure about that - this is an area where Alexander is confidant to the point of arrogance.

Ignacio looks up to Alexander and is not full of quips and comments as usual. Frowning he admits, "It... changed me. I don't... know how or how long. That wind was talking to me for a while. I close my eyes and I am still standing there*8. I open them I'm here. I feel like I've been awake for two weeks man. IT *was...terrible." He's not saying that poor lady or that dude in the block of ice but he's thinking it.

When he offers the telepathy Ignacio looks up and there's a quirky faint grin in the corner of his mouth. "I'm kinda good there. Go for it." He takes a deep breath with the psychic grace of shoving things off the proverbial kitchen table so Alexander and set things on there for him to look at.

Alexander's expression goes tight. "It does that. Change us. Even more than other forms of trauma, I sometimes thing." But his curiosity is a living, growing thing, difficult to feed or quench, so he can't help but ask, "What was it saying? The wind?"

Even as he asks it, though, he's reaching out. His mental 'touch' is strong and confident, but also gentle, like a strong hand that is accustomed to carrying fragile things. <<I can show you what it feels like when I use my abilities consciously, and what it feels like when I get scared and they start to activate on instinct. The latter may be of more use to you, but - every person is different, so try and find the way it resonates in yourself, rather than exactly looking for my reactions and feelings in your own body.>>

And the first thing he shares is a sensation. It's exceedingly peculiar, as it's a feeling of 'will', along with minute physical changes. The tensing of muscle, the feel of attentional shift. Alexander has excellent visualization abilities, and he shares the sensation in as much detail as he can, even to the feel of his ability activating (like a cool, cutting wind through him and out into the world).

Ignacio sits letting the feeling of wind, will, and water rush through him. He's done this with August before to know what the push back feels like. IT is different though, but still weirdly comprehensive at least for intent. Like a cloud of bees there's intent and a lack of organization until there's a singular purpose.

Something about being in a storm of chaos on the interior leaves the presumably hostile Alexander interesting from another angle. Ignacio, o the other hand has poor visualization skills so the adjustment comes slow. He reaches out to try and follow the intent, that feeling. <<This is officially surreal... It's easy for me to emotionally react. This... feeling. I have to figure out how to tap into this then?>>

<<It may be different for you,>> Alexander points out, quietly. <<You're a writer, right? Do you have focus when you write? If you do, that might be a good place to start getting a handle on the sensation. It doesn't take much to reach out. Which is why it can become instinct. Here, brace yourself.>> And Alexander gives Ignacio a minute to do so, before he pulls up a memory - he's careful to cut out whatever Alexander was reacting to, retaining only the internal focus and emotions. The shock/fear/threat that thrilled through him, and then the feel of his power lashing out like an icy whip, as instinctive as a punch. <<That is operating on instinct. When you're pushed to an emotional extreme, using an ability is as instinctive as fight, flight, or crying. You'll fall back on it without thinking about it, unless you have another plan.>>

And then there's another memory, of a similar feeling - although this time tuned with rage and pain as well as fear, but when that lashing out sensation happens, Alexander diverts it to a physical response. Unseen, he clearly PUNCHED THE HELL out of something. <<It might seem...non-ideal, but better to punch someone in the nose than fry their heart.>>

Ignacio looks up having figured out how to keep equilibrium with telepathy with eyes open. The imposed memory, however, brings him to close them. So much input. Right we're... we're doing this. The confirmation of Ignacio being a writer, and in the damn paper no less, still catches him off guard and impressed. It shouldn't but it does, <<Yeah. Actually. I didn't know you knew that.>> He may never get used to the notoriety or that people pay attention. <<Uhhh sometimes? I mean I don't really do fiction like Dante, but yeah. In a general sense I feel my way through things.>>

The warning is appreciated and there's that feeling like wind swirling tightly in place, buffering itself against an opposing wind. The lash our in shared context causes him to draw in a sharp breath. <<Mierda. I didn't realize... I could do this to other people>> Yeah, what he did to the family battling his own demons in extreme, but sloppy fashion? There's the faintest sense of dread held back. Now? Now's the time to focus and not flicker and react. His hands slide to press palms to the table and just... focus.

Then there's stillness. "I could have hurt Itzhak bad. I didn't want to He's my oldest living friend. It's just so hard to-" He pauses and it hits him, his mind trying to rewind and go back. Curious and eyes wide-open, <<Can you go back...to... that? The fear?>>

There's a flash of amusement. <<I read the paper every day. I like your column.>> There's no flattery to it; in the mental landscape, it's conveyed with the same flat observation of facts Alexander might use to describe a corpse. <<Feeling through things is a good way to put it.>>

"You can hurt a lot of people, Ignacio," Alexander switches to verbal as he says that, and his voice is stern. "Never forget that. Which isn't to say I want you to be scared of your abilities. That's no way to gain control. But remember they're not safe. It's like you're carrying around a gun. Never forget that while you are, you can kill people. Itzhak. August. Finch." A pause. "You can also protect people, too. But only if you have control, and you choose." He takes a deep breath, slips back into the bond.

He returns to the memory, letting the fear and instinctive reaction come back to the fore. His fingers tremble against the surface of the table, but he holds the memory steady so that Ignacio can look at it; feel it at one remove.

This is Ignacio's shocked face. There's a curious hesitation, mildly impressed but confused, "Really? Iiiiiiiiiiiiiii thought you hated me." Weird. <<Though he's here so were that true I guess that'd not be the case... oh. Shit. thiiiiis is still connected. Fun and super awkward.>> There's some resigned acceptance in this. The awareness that his brain is a loaded weapon sobers that curiosity.

The dread settles into his sine like ice water. "So I'm going to physically and emotionally going to be exhausted... awesome." There's a pause and a sigh reviewing the situation, this feeling shared that he can touch with emotional fingertips. It's got to happen. This IS Gray Harbor. This is the responsibility of residency. It's this or... go back to New York. His thoughts stray back to the memory of them in that snowstorm and how damn hard Finch fought to hold on to him and that's all he needs to rally right no. Eyes opening, dark, determined, he nods to Alexander, <<It feels... sort of similar when I make that contact. Like... this. That fight or flight response. Knowing what I need to do with some one of clarity, but... I didn't know I was doing that to the people around me and that... that sucks. And I appreciate this.>>

"Hated you?" Alexander seems surprised - is surprised, as the emotion echoes clearly down the link. "No." He frowns, and switches back to mental communication. <<I'm just not good with people who...make a lot of jokes. It always feels like they're going to laugh at me. I don't like when people laugh at me.>> He shades apologetic. <<I'm sorry. I never meant to make you think I hated you. And no. I wouldn't be here if I did.>>

He takes a deep breath, then, and gives Ignacio time to sort through things. "Not always. When you get control over it a bit more, it'll be just as easy to not use it. You don't have to, even if it's tempting. It's a tool. But when you use it, you sort of, um, attract things. Nasty things. So you have to be careful. Decide what's worth it to you." A feeling of wry exasperation echoes down the link. <<Even if some people think nothing should be worth it, and others think that nothing should ever stop them from doing what they want. I hope you can find a better balance.>> Shy pleasure at the appreciation. <<Thanks. I don't mind. I wish that I'd had someone.>>

Ignacio takes this information curiously, but there's a relief. He's not the sort of guy that is comfortable having enemies. Itzhak will fight the world, Iggy only wants to not have to. He answers*<<My body's failed me man, words are what I got to deescalate things with. Didn't mean to put you in that position>>*

Tapping his molars together he listens and then pauses and his thought matrix alts, rewinds, and recalls from rote, <<They are the feasters of the great gray garden. Using Glimmer is propagating the seeds of power like bees with pollen so they have more to feed from.>> He pauses with a flicker of a wry grin <<I can't run and my girlfriend thinks she's going to be taken over by the dark side so here's no risk. I had to learn everything I can so... if you want to talk about Veil theory? I'd love to compare notes on that. I'm... working on veil sickness, hexes, and curses right now. To... To help her>>

On the note of balance he sits back in his chair pushing fingers through his dark hair, "Man, I wish you did too. This is some scary stuff. But people have a hard time talking about their fears and I think... I think They rely on that. It's why I write honestly."

<<You didn't put me in any position,>> Alexander points out. <<My issues aren't your problem, and I don't think August or Itzhak would hang around you if you were mean-natured.>>

He tilts his head to one side to listen. <<I know someone who thinks it's punishment. Them. If we stopped using our abilities, stopped touching the Veil or doing anything with it, then They'd leave us alone.>> He frowns. <<I don't know if that's true. I do know that the less you use it, the less you seem to get harassed...but I don't think it's as absolute as all of that, either. Especially lately, when people seem to be dragged in in all sorts of combinations. So - I don't know much about the Veil, or curses. I've mostly worked things out on my own, and it's mostly been to survive, not explore. But if I can help, I will.>>

Out loud, he says, "Be careful with that. Trying to publish things that touch on this sort of stuff doesn't go well. Lives get ruined, things get destroyed, all sorts of weird things. Too honest can be dangerous. You gotta find a balance."

Ignacio says, "Too honest always gets people in trouble. However, just enough deniability and getting people to think and be aware then they can make good choices and navigate the things they run into." Careful. Being very careful is the key. There's no impulse to do all the things. He's a young man with a sharp object and has to figure out how to hold onto it without falling on it. Great.

Looking up he lets go of that feeling trying to suss out how to apply that and find that commonality he taps into in himself that's present when he hits that point of clarity. "The way.... I figure..." he begins hypothisizing, "is that if they feed on Fear? We need to start working on starving them out and that'snot through defiance it's training people how to find... the good I guess?" Taking stock of Alexander's reservation he admits, "That ice storm. THAT one. "It started to assimilate me, ya know and I all I could think was... I don't want Finch to be afraid." This explains the snow puns."

"Too honest definitely doesn't make you popular," Alexander agrees, or sort of agrees, with a crooked half-smile. He gently severs the link between them, leaning over to be able to rest his arms on the table and study Ignacio with that flat, intent stare as he talks. "Assimilate you." A shiver. "I hate getting lost. I hate other people getting lost. But you did well. You kept your head, and that helped other people keep theirs." He means Finch, obviously, even though she ended up torn up. "So, that tells me that you can get your abilities under control. It'll just take practice. And focus."

Ignacio sits with stillness watching his current mentor in chaos control and warms a lop-sided smile. "Need to stock up on more dad jokes if we're going to survive the winter I guess." The observation is met with a slow now, "I...appreciate that. Thanks." Pausing he asks rather curious, "Did... did you hear things in the wind too? Because I'm trying to figure out if the cold is making me hallucinate or if... getting trapped in the storm was getting to me or if there were voices. I... "

Sitting up he hunts for phrasing. "I don't want to project because it was just an absolute shit feeling but when i was stuck out there I was cold. I wasn't hurt I just stopped. Stopped feeling. I stopped... having hope and it reasoned with me that I belong there. Like the blinding visual deafness I was being swallowed by the absolute...Nothingness. It didn't hurt it was and it said I can stay or I can watch her suffer and die trying to fight the inevitable. It felt like I was sinking into being and just..." Gave up but he's no saying ti out loud.

"I, um, we got back. You know. You were there... and for a week after I couldn't get warm. I could feel warmth but I wasn't allowed to have it and trying to sit with the electric blanket it was like the heat would no be absorbed by my body. It only reminded me of everything, like... everything I wanted and can't have. " Which no doubt Alexander knows because Finch and August knew. "Bu when I closed my eyes I was still standing in the field and the voices are as close to me as my own thoughts."

With a pause he hesitates and asks tentatively, "And I think... I'm still there. And I can't tell."

"I didn't hear anything in the wind," Alexander says, bluntly. He adds, after a moment, "But that doesn't mean there weren't voices out there. I think these things try to hit us where it hurts the most, sometimes, and disembodied voices telling me things I don't want to hear are," a crooked smile, "not novel enough to elicit more fear than getting eaten by a snow monster. It was trying to get you to give up, DeSantos. That's what it does. They do. Whatever 'giving up' means for you, whether it means lying down to die in the snow, or abandoning someone who loves you, or killing people. They enjoy despair and pain."

He takes a breath, then nods. "Yeah. I got the cold, too. And some frostbite. It sucked." Understatement of the month, there. The last statement, though, makes him go silent. "You're worried that this is just part of the dream?" There's no condemnation or disbelief there - this is clearly a reasonable worry to Alexander.

Ignacio looks non-comforted by this admission, but it is what it is. Ignacio seems to be smart enough to catch on tat the situation is just getting more complicated.

He looks down as Granny Dove's place mat his hands are resting on and thinks of the older woman who put it there, the patience she's shown these young people and their crazy problems. How much she endured to take her granddaughter in and home she's gone out of her way to open up her home to some boy with some issues who means well and keeps sabotaging himself. He considers the abundant generosity of his woman that's endured her family cannibalizing itself, and wondering if the curse will be hers* to shoulder. Knowing she had a daughter for it to pass on to and all the terrible things that were done. How much danger she's decided to endure tempting that curse to give him an opportunity to start over with this family knowing the dangers.

He considers this all with motes of that memory and reading the room, all in totality as Alexander informs him they want him to give up. Words that echo loudly in his head. They may not realize what they're asking him to do, but presently he really does with a renewed awareness.

That follow up question hits him and his head picks up curious, "I don't... know. I think ..." he shakes his head, "I don't know, man. Maybe they're always tied? Maybe they're not separate and we're thinking about it wrong. Maybe we'll never have enough information to know what the truth is or if it matters. I think though how we conduct ourselves does."

"Maybe." Alexander is a font of helpful answers! "We don't know a lot about what's going on. Not really. We're all just trying to figure it out." He sits there and thinks about it for a while. "I hope they're not, though. I much prefer here being here and there being there." His lips twitch. "I'm a fan of certainty in a world where there isn't much of it." He rests his chin on his forearm, and looks up and over at Ignacio. "So. Did any of this help at all? I'm sorry. I've only tried to explain this stuff once to someone, and at the time, she had a different issue."

Ignacio is still taking that long moment, disturbed but thoughtful. Taking a deep breath slowly he turns his attention to the cell phone o the counter and with a zip lets it sail across the room where he has a hand up, and catches it. Wasteful? yes, but a necessary test. Taking a deep breath he seems to be assessing and considering that feeling slowly.

Little steps. At least the words this is so cool haven't left his face and he's not crying sooo... Looking up he nods with some thoughtfulness and his tone picking up, "Yeah, actually it's been... it speaks to me in a way that makes sense." The explanation gets a sympathetic look, "We all communicate differently. We can only do our best I guess. Iiiiif your'e interested?" He arches an eyebrow, "I'm doing research on Veil curses and ... Zoological cataloging iiiif that's of interest to you." Looking around he says with a dry humor, "I don't qualify for the X-Men fite team but turns out moral support is pretty good and being the 'guy in a chair' ain't so bad."

Alexander smiles, a bit shyly. "Well. I'm glad. That it made sense. Although you should be careful, since when I start making sense is usually when things have gone terribly wrong." He stands, then, looking down at the younger man for a long moment. "Sure. I can research things. I'm pretty good at it, although I don't usually research...Veil things. We don't have a lot of records that apply to those things. But what I can help with, I will. Just let me know." He slips away from his own chair. "Anyway. Thanks for letting me come and talk at you. Even if you thought that I hated you. Which I don't. Just to make sure we're clear."

Ignacio dips his head in a nod with so much to think about. He should really text Finch at work to say hey. The little bit of normal helps her. She worries. Having something to hold on to makes one scared of ever letting go and that's what he's here trying to assure her that she doesn't have to...and he's reminded himself not to do. Looking to Alexander he considers the man's face with a small smile, "We should do coffee and collaborate notes. I will let you know. And , hey..." He chuckles with maybe the first relaxed moment for the morning as he offers genuinely but comedicly, "I don't hate you either."