yES HELLO: ruth, 2

[sorrypardonyesthankyou]

WHO: ruth aldine + YOU
WHAT: talking about BOLD PLANS for the FUTURE
WHERE: the ruins, specifically near the river
WHEN: june 30th onwards
NOTES: this is step one of the player quest happening on july 5! please zoom over there if you have questions, want to make plans, &cet. NB: potential for discussions of suicide, state-sponsored murder, etc. more specific notes tbd.

[The warm hiss of white noise is just part of being in the ruins--but at some point, when it's getting a little darker, a voice comes through.]

Yes. Pardon. This is Ruth.

[You know, if the stuttery little words at the start didn't clue you in.]

We had thank you an idea--see if we can reason yes, reason with this place. That... [A crackle of static.] Sorry. You saw the empty spot, didn't you? Sorry. Yes. I think...I think it's something.

But going...yes. I'm, uh. I'm not gonna pardon, won't be in my body. And after all the other stuff yes, pardon I tried to do here...it might not agree with me. Sorry. Might need people to keep an eye out. No.

Sorry. No. So if anyone's interested...

[And, you know. If they understood any of this.]

Comments

[itselbitch]

[ he's starting to learn how to understand ruth speak a lot better, and while he has no doubts in her abilities, there is the question of fortitude when this place has already stained her to illness. ]

Are you sure this is the smartest thing to do when all the regular stuff is already majorly fucking you up?

[sorrypardonyesthankyou]

I haven't, sorry haven't done the regular stuff lately. No. Going to build up my strength. Pardon.

[Which is making the rest of this, the wandering-around-the-ruins thing, significantly harder. But it might pay off.]

[snikthatch]

[ There's a bit of a squeal of static that eats the first part of his response, like the setting is reacting to a spike in emotion. ]

-- o you're not, kid. I'm not lettin' you throw yourself into that black hole.

[sorrypardonyesthankyou]

Yes. Thank you. I'm the only one who can.

[Steady, almost painfully reasonable.]

[snikthatch]

You're -- do you even know how dangerous that might be, without any telepaths around to dig you out again if you get into trouble? Whaddya expect me to do to help, scratch the sky with my claws? No, Ruth. You can't do this.

[sorrypardonyesthankyou]

I can. Thank you. I have to.

Pardon. We have to do something.

[snikthatch]

Kid, you almost died just arrivin' here. I smelled that blood all over you. What do you think's gonna happen if you try and push it?

[omniavincit]

[ It makes him angry—he's shaken by how badly he wants to shout into the radio. Reason with it. It's a fucking void, not a traffic cop.

She was there. They were all just there, falling through black. He stares fixedly at the set. He'd take a walk, if he thought it would still be there when he got back. Then he thinks about her first call for help: the bleeding, how she said she felt. When he does speak, it's subdued. Hesitant, as though he's carefully stepping around the cracks in his voice. ]

Are you—gonna ask what's wrong? [ With her powers—with her—he means, but thinking about it, maybe he means more than that. ]

[sorrypardonyesthankyou]

Wrong? No. Yes. Maybe. I want to -

[ But describing it to him makes her pause, the radio crackling just below her chin. She has to think to describe it; getting it across might not make inherent sense to someone who doesn't know what it's like to dive into someone else's head. ]

We don't know sorry if it thinks. How. Pardon. I want to know what its mind looks like.

[omniavincit]

[ By now he should know better than to ask her yes or no questions. He scrubs a hand over his face—less angry, still dissatisfied. ] But I think we do. It's fractured. Fickle. [ It's every building he's been in, stairways that wind endlessly like a barber's pole. A mind that hasn't made up its mind.

A pause before he adds, voice slipping low: ] Watchful.

[ Another pause—the radio cycles through quick bursts of song as though attempting to find its footing. William feels like he's talking to himself, feels like it's those first few weeks again, his loneliness a law more constant than gravity. ] You could die.

[sorrypardonyesthankyou]

Might not sorry be its fault. [It's not David, and she knows it. David is...he's gone, he's wherever he went, and this is something else. (She has to believe she'd recognize it, if it were him.) But having known him...she can't blame it, whatever it is. Not without seeing how it thinks.] It might just be hurt. No, pardon--

Yes. Yes. I know.

[But that's not that important.]

[omniavincit]

[ It probably is hurt. Most broken things are. It's the just that doesn't sit well with him, the rest of it—his thoughts scatter ten ways at once. Does she think that's the reason she's in pain? Because it is? Does she think she can cure it, does she think she was chosen? ]

What for? [ A shuddering breath. ] Ruth.

[ascocarp]

[Ellie has no sense of control over Ruth. It's hard to really think of Ruth as a normal person. She just is.]

If you die, what d'you want us to do with you?

[sorrypardonyesthankyou]

Hm. Pardon.

[That's...a good question. Ruth's quiet for a moment.]

Whatever, sorry, whatever Logan wants. Yes.

[ascocarp]

Wait, wait. Logan, knife hands, short as me, that Logan? You know him?

[sorrypardonyesthankyou]

...Hah. Yes. Yes. Used to be headmaster yes at my school.

[ascocarp]

...Okay, that explains a loooot.

Anyway, why don't you care? I thought funerals were important. I have mine planned.

[swordliest]

What about anything that's happened makes you think this— place [he sticks on the word, a little bit, because it sounds ridiculous, talking to a place] might be reasonable?

[This is half incredulity, half a real question. She's the one with mind powers.]

[sorrypardonyesthankyou]

Nothing. [If it can think, she suspects it thinks very, very differently from them.] But pardon, we might still yes be able to talk to it.

[Even crazy people can be convinced of things. She'd know.]

[swordliest]

[There's a beat of hesitation, wavering. It sounds like a spectacularly stupid idea, but—]

And then what? You think you can... talk it into letting us leave?

[sorrypardonyesthankyou]

I don't sorry, dunno. [It's hard to say, at this point, what they can manage to do with it.] Pardon. If I can't...please. Yes. We'll still know more.

[fumitory]

( 'reason with this place.' it sounds like a conversation he's had with someone here already — that this world seems to be...aware.

the fact that Ben and Will aren't the only ones thinking it has him lifting up to grab the walkie talkie buzzing with that familiar voice. he gets the idea that she is planning to do something, but that is about where comprehension drops off. )

Wait— sorry— you've lost me. What is it you're about to do, exactly? ( Ben might be 'interested' in that Ben is concerned as much as he is curious. )

[sorrypardonyesthankyou]

...Ah. Sorry. Yes. Sorry. I can, pardon, I can go inside minds.

[That'll obviously explain everything, right? Right.]

If it has one. Thank you.

[fumitory]

Inside minds. ( repeated, partially to make the admission concrete, and because...jesus, it still sounds absolutely bonkers.

not that he's disbelieving her, if she's saying it...it's just... Ben thinks being inside one's own mind is plenty for a human being. he can't guess what entering anyone else's mind is like.

and he isn't about to ask.

what he does want to ask, though: ) You think it might have a mind? Sentience? At this rate, it wouldn't shock me anymore.

...But it must have a rather big mind, eh? A whole world. ( supposedly, at least. ) What's your plan? What do you need to do it?

[sorrypardonyesthankyou]

Yes.

[People...really seem to be struggling with that. Ruth finds that a little strange, but she's lived with others' thoughts and feelings all her life. That those thoughts live someplace visitable only feels natural to her.]

It might. Sorry. Might have a mind, pardon. Might be huge.

[There's a pause.]

Just...yes. Someplace to be asleep. Yes. Someplace safe. [Beyond that...] And somebody to pardon, to keep me from getting sick. Sorry.