subnautica | Anxious amphibian attacks athenaeum

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Anxious amphibian attacks athenaeum

Two months. It'll be two months to the day soon. It's nothing worth celebrating; the milestone looms over Stork like an execution date.

He's only kept himself going in this underwater prison for this long on the understanding -- assumption? Denial? -- that this situation would only be temporary. That eventually, and hopefully sooner rather than later, a way back home would be found, and he would be putting all of this behind him. He would be back on the Condor, and everything would make sense again. As much as he hates to ever cling to something as useless as hope, it's the only thing keeping him afloat these days.

After this past month, that fragile hope is cracking. He has gradually given up actively fighting his losing battle with sleep, but the very concept of the dreamscape still unnerves him enough to keep him up at night more often than not. That this place has invaded his mind so thoroughly as to rob him of even the freedom and privacy of his own dreams -- it's horrifying. He wonders sometimes if any of this is real; maybe he and this entire damned crew are actually trapped in a siren's thrall, or infested with mindworms. Maybe both.

All of this reaches a boiling point, as anxiety often does, in the middle of the night. Lying awake in bed, he is overwhelmed by the sudden, urgent need to escape -- or at least, to do something, anything that might bring him even the smallest step closer to it. So he sneaks off to the newly-built library, trying hard to avoid the attention of any of the crew, asleep or awake. Later, he may bring this up to those he trusts enough -- he certainly stands no chance of succeeding in this alone -- but right now, it feels like a dangerous secret.

And anyway, it's like, three in the morning.

Once in the library, the troubled Merb settles in for a lengthy study session, pulling every book that has anything to do with space travel. Back on his world, they've barely reached the stratosphere -- and he and his squadron were among the first to accomplish it. He's going to have a lot of catching up to do. Naturally, the subject is way too much to take in over the course of one night, especially in a state of exhaustion and panic. That doesn't stop him from making a mess of the library over the next few hours, gradually covering every available surface with open books in a futile attempt to absorb as much as possible all at once, like he's cramming for an impossibly brutal test.

Maybe you find him awake, sitting on the floor at the epicenter of the booksplosion, hunched over one of the texts and muttering to himself in frustration. Maybe you find him asleep, passed out on the book he was reading last and drooling on its pages. Either way, he's too far gone to notice anyone approaching.

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The hour is not quite "ungodly" by the time Don wanders into the library, a cup of Roderic-style pseudocoffee in his hand. He hadn't been expecting anyone else in here, so the mess that's been made of the premises nearly makes him drop his drink on the floor.

Not that there's any empty floor right now. Stork has practically recarpeted overnight.

Frowning, the Turtle steps with usual ninja grace over the books before pausing at the Merb's side. "Hey, uh... Stork?" It's said just a little louder than usual, with the hope of waking him from catatonia without having to touch the jumpy guy.

Stork may be exhausted, but it still doesn't take much to wake him. He jerks up from the book he was previously using as a makeshift pillow -- and staining with oddly-greenish drool -- and, with a panicked yelp, leaps up and away from the intruder. A good six feet away.

He calms down somewhat and stands up straighter when he sees that it's only Don. Of course, now the awkwardness of the situation is beginning to dawn on him, and he shrinks back down a little, darting his eyes around at the mess.

"Um... hi."

"Whoa!" Don scrambles to keep his cup - and its contents - safe, and only narrowly manages to avoid spilling not-coffee all over himself and the floor. A few flecks of it spatter his arm; good thing it wasn't too hot, and that Turtle scales are tough.

As soon as they've both recovered from that, Don returns his attention back to the obvious: the books, everywhere. "What kind of study session did I interrupt, here?"

The Turtle tries to keep his tone light, but the concern can't help but seep through. This reminds Don of himself on the week he was trying to research for the Y'Lyntian cure...

Stork isn't sure how to answer that at first, in part because he just woke up and everything is still kind of fuzzy, but mostly because he's just awake enough to realize how stupid this is. The frantic, desperate state that made all of this seem like a good idea is gone now, leaving him merely drained and discouraged.

"You're not interrupting anything," he says glumly. Nothing that isn't, you know, pointless and doomed to fail, like his life. "I... couldn't sleep."

Well if that isn't the understatement of the year.

It sure doesn't look like Stork slept anywhere but on these books. The complete mess he's made seems to have one unifying factor that Don can spot, when a book's managed to close itself - everything is on a space theme. Astrophysics, engineering of spacecraft, advanced metallurgy... Don clicks his beak slightly as he thinks about this.

"I know the feeling. Some burning question just got stuck in your mind, and you couldn't rest until you had an answer?"

"...Something like that."

The merb watches nervously as Don at the books, as if he's been caught doing something... well, worse than abusing the crew's book collection. Something like plotting a mutiny. Is that what he's doing?

He's aware that the running theme in the subjects of the books makes it pretty obvious what he was looking for -- at least, he assumes the motive is as obvious as the subject. He wants out of here, off this planet. He wants to bail. He can't be the only one, right?

The Turtle stoops down to pick up some of the books from the ground, rifling through the pages with one hand. "It seems like the topic of the day is space. What's gotten you so engrossed?"

It's clearly a leading question, but Don doesn't seem particularly bothered one way or the other, merely concerned about Stork's obvious anxiety.

The leading question doesn't exactly help Stork's anxiety about the whole thing. It just makes him feel like he's being interrogated, which feeds into his paranoia about the mutiny -- not that that's what this is. Damn it, Don, if you're onto him then can't you just say so?

"Weeell... there's. You know. The whole stranded-on-an-alien-planet thing? It's just been on my mind lately."

Because that would be strong-arming you into compliance, Stork. Don would rather it be mentioned without him having to force it.

He nods at this, though. "I've thought about it too. We're still so far away from anywhere I know... the stars don't match up at all. We might not even be in the Milky Way galaxy."

Add to the fact that Stork's planet is nothing like Don's. Who knows if they're even in the same universe?

"... I miss my family, and my home." Don can at least admit that much.

Honestly, Stork is doubtful that space travel would even get him home, for that same reason. But it's the only lead he can look into at the moment, unless they happen to unearth a mysterious door and key somewhere in this ocean. He just wants to have a choice. Waiting is not a choice.

"Yeah," he agrees stiffly. Sometimes he wonders if anyone else here does -- they must, but it's a little unnerving sometimes how okay they seem to be here.

But he can't entirely fault them for not looking back. The home he misses now isn't the first one he's left behind; it's only the first one he's wanted to return to.

There have been times in Don's life where he also felt deprived of the ability to make choices. Those were some of the hardest times he ever faced. He can see the struggle against that inertia in the wild clutter of the books all around them.

They're alone in the library, and Stork's obvious pain is what drives words out of Don, things he would have trouble saying otherwise. "There are things about Iniidae that I'd hate to leave behind. This is the first place I've been where I haven't had to hide."

He can't help the little hitch in his voice at that admission.

"... Even so, I want to go back. My brothers, my sensei... the world just doesn't feel right without them." And he couldn't bring them here, not against their will; not like how he was brought here.

"You must miss your crew in the same way."

Stork initially looks incredulous at the idea that anyone would miss this place. Maybe he's being too hard on Iniidae, but he would never have come here entirely by choice; he would only begrudgingly tolerate it on Aerrow's orders.

But he quickly understands when Don finishes that sentence. He doesn't know exactly what the turtle had to hide from back on his world, but he doesn't have to know that to be able to relate. If his choice were between Iniidae and being a refugee in the Wastelands again, he wouldn't be in here tearing up the library.

He flinches slightly at the mention of his fellow Storm Hawks. Though it's the Condor herself that he finds himself thinking about he lies awake at night missing his home, that's at least in part because it seems to be harder to think about the squadron. He has to ask himself harder questions when he thinks about them. Questions like whether the Condor will still be home if he returns to it and they're not there.

He doesn't answer that last part directly, but his expression says enough. Doubts and difficult questions aside, they're the closest thing he's got to a family anymore.

"So. If you could leave right now -- just you -- would you?" He might as well just ask at this point.

It's a hard question, and Don hesitates a moment.

But only a moment.

"Yes." He doesn't quite make eye contact with Stork; it feels almost like he's insulting the merb. "I mean... I'd miss you guys. It would be better if it wasn't a one-way trip; if there were ways to visit. Even so, I'd go home if I could."

'If I could'. Don's actually surprised by his own words, in a dull sort of way. When did he start giving up?

"Maybe there's some way... some way to really make that possible."

Edited 2016-06-30 02:28 (UTC)

Stork's not insulted. He looks pretty relieved to know that it's not just him, actually. Not that he has anything against most of the crew -- and he honestly might miss some of them if he ever does escape -- but they strike him as relentlessly, unnervingly upbeat about living here. Like admitting that he'd abandon them in a heartbeat might be... inadvisable. Most of them don't seem like the type to really hold that against him, but you never can be sure.

"Well... that's the idea," he says, gesturing at the books. "It's... probably useless, but."

He shrugs.

Now Stork's library booksplosion makes perfect sense, although Don had already clued in to the nature of it.

"So you're trying to learn astrophysics?" There's a joke to be made there, about how it is, in fact, rocket science... "How long were you planning to try this alone? This is way too much for a single person."

"I helped send a Sky Knight into orbit. We were the first people on Atmos to pull it off." There's some pride and defensiveness to his tone, buried somewhere under all the weariness and gloom. But Don's right, and Stork can't really argue with that. His shoulders slump. He did say it was useless.

"As long as it takes? Until this planet kills me? I don't know." There's not much conviction left in his voice. Now that the panic is over and he is able to step back and look at things rationally, doubt is weighing him down. Even if, by some miracle, he did succeed, and leave this planet behind, where would he go? How would he find his own world? COULD he find his own world?

And... what if Korosensei is right, and his companions are actually here. He can't stand to stay in this place, but does he really dare leave?

"I don't mean that you can't figure it out," the Turtle amends. "It's more that... so much work goes into anything with spacecraft. It'd be nuts to try to do it by yourself."

That is the tone of 'hey I would like to help you maybe'.

"The biggest problem may not even be making the spaceship, as weird as that sounds. I mean, the Aurora's wreckage is right there... it could take us a while to rebuild it, and some parts would take longer than others, but we could probably do it. Fuel? That's the biggest problem."

Edited 2016-07-09 15:19 (UTC)

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Anxious amphibian attacks athenaeum

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