eyemind | event } catch the last sunbeam.

Entry tags:

event } catch the last sunbeam.

WHO: All of Navi’s passengers.
WHAT: A winter wonderland visit with your new brainmates.
WHERE: All over Vivamion City - and on Navi, if you want.
WHEN: The next three weeks (Dec. 7-28).
WARNINGS: Add these to your comment subject lines as needed! And if you get taken out by a super snowball, please report it on the death page.

Gooooood morning passengers! Time to rise and shine - with a very important Navi announcement incoming:

Attention, passengers.
We'll be landing soon on the planet Trelnar,
near Vivamion City.
We'll be docked for three weeks, local time,
which coincides with the city’s annual winter festival.
Should you require any weather-appropriate clothing,
I will handle the bill for your expenses.
Please stand by for atmospheric entry.

Have fun! As Navi said in their message, any passenger who requires a warm winter coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and/or boots before joining the festivities will be able to select such items from one of the shops near the docks, charged to Navi’s account. Passengers will also find a bank counter just past the docking terminal, where your new windfall of Navigems can be exchanged for credits (the universal currency). Try not to spend it all in one place!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It took practice and focus to keep from being sucked in... and a whole lot of wards. Fortunately those were presently all in functional order, which helped to alleviate the strain caused by all the noise of the universe and its ever increasing demands. He is but one angel, and cannot answer every prayer. Or even many of them... even if there was ever the pull to try. A pull not unlike that yearning longing that called him home, to a home he knew he could never return to. Risen or not he was a traitor, and would be tried as such.

So instead he will simply bury the ache beneath the cacophony of eternal disappointment in duties unfulfilled. Alongside the brief distractions offered by Jon's embarrassment, and fumbled truth far more prescient than he could know. "That it is," He agreed softly to the comment about intelligence being a double-edged sword. Even outside the human world that remained the case. "That it is." There's another spark of that impossibly deep well of sadness and regret. This time it didn't make it to his placid features, but Jon no longer needed to try to read those... too much was apparent through the bond even when Murmur tried to disguise it.

There was a guilt there they were both experiencing, neither quite willing to touch on and yet sharing the moment all the same. Maybe they'll speak on it eventually, all this guilt that Jon carries, or perhaps they'll both just accept it as it is. Who can say?

Gaze still out toward the sky, he answered in a strangely distant voice. "While we are Brothers all, that does not necessitate that we like each other in any capacity. Loyal, perhaps, at times. Admiring even, one could argue. But that isn't a bond, is it? Not truly." He sipped his coffee thoughtfully, eyes finally flicking back to Jon, seeming to consider him for a time.

Then, without preamble nor explanation he extracted an extra pair of gloves from a pocket, offering them out to Jon. How had he known these might come in handy? She helped me in Dualis as well. Took me to where I could learn more about our captor, and how to contain it.

Murmur is very good at keeping feelings concealed, outside of the glyphlink - those small glimpses of guilt and sadness and regret surprise Jon, even as they mirror his own concealed feelings. And he desperately wants to ask, to know more, to pull at the string and untangle the web of mystery that surrounds the angel - but he fights down that impulse. It’s a struggle, but necessary; Jon thinks such an invasion wouldn’t go well for him, and he’d rather not ruin the bond just beginning between them.

“I don’t have any siblings of my own, but I understand that’s a fairly common situation among humans as well.” Jon sometimes wondered whether he’d been better off an only child. A sibling might’ve been an ally, someone who could understand Jon where other children couldn’t, but it was just as likely a sibling would’ve bullied and tormented him the same as his peers - worse, perhaps, for knowing Jon more closely and thus knowing the exact points to cause the most pain.

Probably for the best that he hadn’t any siblings, given the direction his life has taken. Jon already felt responsible for losing colleagues in the battle between the Entities - Sasha for certain, likely Daisy and Tim and Basira as well now. He’d already endangered Georgie and the Admiral by hiding out with them - he doesn’t want to imagine how much danger a family member might’ve faced because of him. Thank goodness his grandmother passed years ago.

Murmur is full of surprises today, it seems - the offer of gloves catches Jon entirely off guard. He stares at the angel quizzically for a moment, mouth agape, like the idea of such a simple kind gesture is entirely foreign to him (because it is). Then his expression softens into a smile both sheepish and fond, and he extends a hand to accept the gloves.

“I, erm … “ he fumbles for the right words to explain his forgetfulness in acquiring gloves on his own, but halts and simply says: “Thank you.”

Murmur appreciates his restraint. In time, perhaps, those are conversations Murmur might be willing to touch on. For right now his sadness was his own to bear and he wasn't about to place that burden upon Jon. Nor was he likely to be particularly thrilled with any excessive prying. All things in good time, Jon. Patience is ever rewarded.

"Do human siblings typically slaughter each other en-masse?" It's asked so casually, so blunt and plain like it's the most normal thing in the world. He's done his grieving over those wars, so much so that one barely even registers as a glimmer of something he's aware he should be more upset about. It's just how they are, ever at war. Murmur's had a few too many blades to his throat to muster up much in the way of concern.

It's cold, certainly, but then again so is he. Hence his preferred element.

Murmur simply waited for Jon to get the hint and accept the gift. He already had gloves, after all, but wasn't one to set aside something potentially useful for the future. It turns out he was right to! As is often the case. "Of course," He inclines his head gently. "My pleasure." You're doing well Jon, he's proud of you. No explanation necessary on either part. Jon forgot, Murmur somehow knew, and the problem fixed itself. "I hope you don't mind I intend to stay out longer. This is my favorite weather." The snow and the cold, of course they would be.

Edited 2021-12-28 03:45 (UTC)

“Erm … no, I don’t think that’s quite as common,” Jon answers, on the subject of fratricide. “But I suppose it depends on the family. Some of the royals throughout history have gone to rather extreme lengths regarding the line of succession.”

People are terrible to each other. Perhaps it’s the same for angels.

Jon balances his half-finished coffee in the crook of his elbow while he tugs the gloves on over his frigid fingers. They’re a good fit, like they were made specifically for his hands, and nicely warm. Task accomplished, he resumes sipping his coffee.

“Not at all,” he answers, then it occurs to him that perhaps Murmur is signaling that he’d like to be alone now. “Oh! Did you - erm, did you want me to leave you to it?”

It’s not always easy for Jon to pick up on when someone has tired of him and he’s outstayed his welcome. Perhaps that’s the current situation.

Or I could stay, if you’d like some company.

Jon quietly hopes it’s the latter.

Murmur made a face. "Ugh, royalty. Always claiming to possess the blood of the divine or some such nonsense," He gestured vaguely, tone clearly disgusted. "No, Charles, you have the blood of inbreeding that does not make you special." Apparently Jon managed to pull Murmur out of his sulking and straight into shit talking, which is a remarkable skill!

Jon really was very easy to talk to. And yes, angels were just really quite terrible to each other.

There's a hint of amusement that flickered across his features and through the bond. "The gloves were intended to help you tolerate the cold longer," So yes, it was the latter.

I enjoy your company. Stay. Is the response, just in case he needed that additional clarification. Truth be told he understood, Murmur could also be socially blind given how long it's been since he's last been around humans. Even with the empathy he didn't always pick up on the more subtle cues.

To be fair, the shit-talking is pretty funny, especially coming from an angel. Jon happens to be of a similar opinion on royalty, and can't help laughing quietly into his coffee. And, to his credit, he manages not to laugh and sip - and choke - at the same time.

"Ah, yes, that does make sense," he says with a nod to the comment about the gloves, and he's grateful for the further clarification about his company via the mental link. I enjoy yours too, he replies, and somehow it's easier to say so with his mind than if he were to make an attempt with his mouth.

Jon lightly clears his throat, changing the subject to a question that feels more safe to ask than others he'd wanted to pursue earlier: "Why is it your favorite? The - the weather, I mean."

The positive reaction to his outburst about monarchs does earn Jon a quick flash of teeth in a grin. Murmur's still not always sure how things will be received when he's being less than entirely professional. It's hard to keep up being that stuffy all the time. For his part Murmur is glad that most of Navi's crew have been rather easy going, all things considered.

Sometimes it is easier to be honest internally than externally, the partner link Was certainly beneficial in that regard. They could speak privately in a way that no one could overhear. Jon's reciprocation earns a warm brief smile. Murmur may not be especially expressive externally, but that didn't mean he didn't feel and feel intensely. There was something warm and pleasant about being wanted, a sensation he lacked the words to name though found he enjoyed all the same. How curious.

Pulled from his musing Murmur tilted his head to the side faintly, not unlike a bird. "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before," He mused faintly. It was such a small, trivial thing, yet someone actually asking seemed to mean a lot to him. Of course, since he hadn't had to answer before putting into words why he liked the snow proved to be more difficult than he'd expected. "Well, for one, I have something of an affinity for the cold. More than that, however... is the beauty." He held out a hand, offering a sweeping gesture over the snow-covered ground. "The way light shines on the snow, the way it muffles sound. It's peaceful."

Then, a thought occurs to him. "Would you like to see something spectacular?"

When you’re not used to being wanted, finding yourself in the opposite situation can feel downright intoxicating, as Jon could testify, were he ever inclined to do so. Normally, he might downplay it, but the current pleasant sense of warmth is nothing he feels he needs to hide away from the glyphlink, or his partner. Jon is faintly aware that he doesn’t need to be so guarded with his feelings all of the time around Murmur, and it’s both unfamiliar and good. Trust doesn’t come easily for Jon, but it seems easier to trust Murmur than most.

Jon finishes his coffee while Murmur gives his answer, and he wonders - if no one has ever asked this question before, perhaps it’s because Murmur hasn’t spent much time around anyone curious enough about him to ask, but why not? Jon can think of dozens of questions he wants to ask, dozens of things he wants to know - not about Celestial history or the secrets of the universe, but about Murmur himself.

He really, really hopes he’ll have a chance to ask all of them, in time.

“I suppose … I’ve never considered that,” Jon muses aloud. Peace is also not something Jon’s ever had in abundance, unsurprisingly. “But I do see what you mean. There’s a - a kind of stillness to it all.”

Something spectacular is vague, and Jon is of course quite curious as to what it could be, but while he would ordinarily press for details before deciding, he doesn’t now. A lifetime of cruel jokes at his own expense cultivated a deep sense of wariness that Jon doesn’t feel is needed with Murmur. The angel may be mysterious, but he does seem to genuinely care about Jon - still a concept Jon is adjusting to incorporate into his worldview - and it doesn’t seem likely that this question is the setup for a painful fall.

So Jon answers - simply, without detailed questioning: “I would, yes.”

Edited 2022-01-02 08:23 (UTC)

It really can be intoxicating. While Murmur doesn't have the foundation to fully comprehend these feelings radiating from Jon nor his own, he found that easy warmth encouraging and welcoming. A sensation not entirely familiar, but he couldn't say he didn't love it. Moreover it was the trust that Jon offered so freely that if Murmur had need of it, he would find his heart aflutter. He wasn't used to people trusting him, at all, and while he'd certainly earned his reputation being permanently viewed with suspicion was exhausting.

To have Jon willing to be so open with him like this, especially with their rocky start, meant more than Murmur could ever hope to put words to. He didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize this gift. He's also most certainly not accustomed to anyone being interested in him and not just the vast wealth of knowledge he held or what services he could provide. That, too, was a foreign yet absolutely wonderful feeling.

He'd be very happy to answer more of Jon's questions, in time.

"Winter is a time to rest," He continues. "When all the hustle of the warmer months finally slows down, the fruits of your labors harvested, and it's time to sleep." See, humans don't like the winter because they keep trying to work through it. You're supposed to hibernate in winter.

A smile spreads when Jon agrees, warm and genuine, not that faint mimicry of a smile he often wore that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Delightful, but first... how are you with heights?" While waiting for his answer Murmur moved them toward a trash bin to dispose of their empty coffee cups. Wouldn't want to bring that along for the trip.

“Time to sleep,” Jon echoes, wistfully. “That does sound lovely.” Perhaps that’s an odd opinion coming from a man who recently woke from seven months in stasis, but there’s a difference between a coma and actual rest. Jon hasn’t had much of the latter, thanks to the series of nightmares he’s collected on behalf of Beholding.

“Heights? I’m - erm, they’re fine,” he answers, following Murmur to deposit his empty cup in the nearby bin. Not his favorite, especially after that incident with Mike Crew, but they don’t terrify him an abnormal amount - just a healthy amount. He wonders what Murmur could be intending to show him that has to do with heights. A rooftop view from the top of a tall building, perhaps, or the landscape from a higher elevation, accessed by a hiking trail?

“Well - as long as no one’s trying to push me off something high up,” he adds, with a dry chuckle. A joke, but not really.

Edited 2022-01-03 06:28 (UTC)

Not at all. While Murmur didn't understand exactly how or why the coma happened, he had no doubt it wasn't restful. Jon's mind had been filled to overflowing with nightmares that couldn't be quelled, no wonder he'd like true genuine rest after that. Though, at this current state of being, that may now be out of his grasp. Murmur didn't think it would do to mention as much right now.

He downed the last of his own coffee. "Heavens no, I have never dropped a passenger I'll have you know. There's a reason I was Uriel's preferred Throne," That made zero sense without context, he's aware, but he sounds proud of that claim all the same. "Nevertheless, while I endeavor for a smooth flying experience I would recommend keeping your eyes closed for the duration. I would not want you to lose your stomach upon our landing." He tossed his cup with something of a flourish before offering out Jon his hand with something of a charming smile of invitation.

"No harm shall come to you under my watch, you have my word." He promises. Apparently he intended to fly Jon to whatever it was he wanted to show him.

Jon isn’t schooled in Celestial lore, so Murmur calling himself a Throne doesn’t make much sense to him, and he makes a mental note to ask about it later. That’s filed in the back of his mind for the moment while Jon pushes the pieces of what Murmur is suggesting together. It takes him a moment, but he does get there.

“Oh … right, yes.” Angel. Wings. Flight. “You’re going to - erm, you’re going to carry me?” Jon laughs at himself under his breath. What a stupid thing to say. Obviously that’s what Murmur’s offering - charmingly, Jon can recognize that, and the gesture makes his heartbeat skip.

There is no question in Jon’s mind - he wants what’s on offer. I trust you, he mentally remarks as he takes Murmur’s hand, and it’s the truth. Trust is hard for Jon to extend, but Murmur has done nothing to show Jon he shouldn’t give it to him.

“So … erm, how does this work?”

As the questions pile up Jon must be dying to ask them, but now isn't the time. Maybe that's why Murmur drops the hints when he does, when it would be lease convenient to start the conversation. Then again it's just as likely not a plan and merely him slipping bits of information that aren't strictly classified as he grows more accustomed to being "out" as an angel.

Is it working? The charm? He's trying very hard, but he's still not quite sure he has it down. Jon's response is encouraging, once he works his way through understanding what Murmur's offering him. While highly intelligent, it did seem to occasionally take Jon a few moments to understand subtleties. Honestly it was quite endearing, his bumbling.

Murmur doesn't bother affirming the obvious beyond letting out a small chuckle at Jon's antics and continuing to hold out his hand. That mental note earned something of a flood of warmth and joy from the angel, having no sufficient words to properly express just how much that sentiment truly meant to him. When Jon did finally take his hand he only whispered: "Just close your eyes." Again, and once he did so...

It happened quickly. No, quick wasn't enough to properly describe how fast an angel with a purpose could move. Barely a jostle, a rustle of wind and feather before Jon was being gently set down in much deeper snow, though the beat of the angel's wings had cleared some of it away. Speaking of wings, Murmur's wings were massive. It was difficult to get a good sense of scale within Navi's enclosed halls because Murmur simply couldn't spread them properly. They were easily twenty feet, likely more, from tip to tip of feather, though elegantly narrow like those of a seabird. Out here, in this dim ethereal light they seemed to glitter as if covered in a fine layer of frost.

Speaking of light, the sky where they had come to rest was alive with brilliant shifting colors, near a lake surrounded by trees heavily laden with snow.

"We're here." He offered needlessly, just in case Jon were still keeping his eyes closed thinking he had to. Murmur didn't quite release him just yet, not until he was sure Jon was steady on his feet given the sudden location change.

Flight by angel is like nothing Jon has ever experienced before. Mike Crew made Jon feel the terror of freefall, an endless horror of lost control; Murmur transporting him here was dizzying, but in a much more pleasant way. There was care in this carrying, and even though being flown still frightened Jon a little on instinct, his faith in Murmur’s promise of protection never wavered.

It does, however, take Jon a moment to reorient himself after they’ve landed. The cue that he no longer needs to keep his eyes closed is more than welcome, and he shakily exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he slowly releases his hold on the angel. (He might’ve been clinging a little bit. Oops.)

Jon takes a step back so he can fully take in the sight of Murmur’s wings. He’s seen them before, of course, up close - but not in full, not like this. “Your wings,” he says, voice diminished to a muted hush, “they’re …”

Magnificent.

He takes another slow step back, and another - and still manages to trip and fall backwards with a surprised yelp into a pile of snow. Don’t mind him, he’s just going to rest here for a moment, and stare up in awe at the swirl of colors in the sky. It’s one of the most beautiful things Jon has ever seen, and he’s left speechless.

Aware that angels flew at a speed beyond what was typically considered comfortable by mortal standards Murmur knew there was a fair chance of rattling Jon deep into his core. Thankfully that hadn't been the case, and the extra care Murmur took to avoid turbulence had the intended effect. A small amount of fear was to be expected, humans were not flighted creatures by nature after all, but moreover it was the faith Jon put in him so easily that was surprising. Surprising, and very welcome.

It was pleasant, a kind of warmth that filled the soul in a way Murmur lacked proper words for. So too did he find himself pleasantly warmed by the way Jon clung to him, though that sensation was different and also quite welcomed, if curious. Murmur had never found himself particularly fond of being touched, after all. So this was... different. Pleasantly so.

Murmur wasn't granted time to ruminate on that train of thought before Jon was stepping back to admire his wings and a new burst of unfamiliar warmth filled him. Murmur gave his wings a little flutter, flattered and embarrassed in measure to be looked upon in such a way. He didn't hold a candle to the radiance of his brothers so to be looked upon with such awe was something he didn't fully understand how to address.

He didn't have to, Jon spared them both the embarrassment of that moment by toppling over in the snow. There was a brief spark of alarm from the angel, but upon detecting no sense of harm on Jon's part he let out a light, almost melodic laugh, trudging his way through the deep snow to sit down at Jon's side. Craning back his head to likewise watch the sky he smiled.

"Have you ever seen such beauty?" He asked softly.

Jon is so transfixed by the sight of the sky above him that he seems to have entirely forgotten the fact that he’s lying down in a pile of snow and is content to remain there. Murmur was right - it is peaceful. Has Jon ever felt this calm, this relaxed, this … happy? He inhales a quiet, deep breath, then slowly exhales.

No. No, he has not - not in any memorable event his mind chose to store. If Jon were to allow his thoughts to leap headfirst down that rabbit hole, he’d be brooding in no time, but for once, he chooses a different path - he lets it go.

“I … erm,” he all but whispers, “no, I can’t say I have.” Jon’s eyes remain fixed on the sky above as he answers. “I mean - there’s the aurora borealis, of course, back on Earth … but I’ve never seen it in person. Just pictures.”

And pictures couldn’t convey the sense of diminution that washes over Jon, stretched out in the snow under these vast clouds of colored lights. He feels … empty, but in a good way. Like all of the insecurities and traumas he’s collected and carried with him for as long as he can remember have vanished. Like everything that has happened in the past few years, the death and horror and frustration of the Archives and the Fears and the rituals and being The Archivist - none of that matters anymore.

Slowly, a smile spreads across Jon’s face - wide and full of childlike wonder, not those restrained quirks of the mouth he typically musters. It’s only him and Murmur out here; there’s no need to hide the fact that he is, for once, genuinely happy.

Thank you for showing me this, he says, through the mental link.

Edited (i’m sorry i should not tag when i’m half asleep 💀) 2022-01-13 21:07 (UTC)

Unless Jon were to try to stay in the snow to the point where he might be risking hypothermia, Murmur wasn't going to interfere. Sometimes snow was comfortable. Plenty of animals enjoyed hibernating in it. And, well... Jon seemed to have for the moment decided to fully embrace what Murmur was talking about when he spoke of how peaceful it was.

All around them was silence. Not the tense silence that fell when a predator was roaming, but the sleepy silence unique to long dark winters where most creatures took the time to rest and await spring's return. Where deep snow dampened sound, and for just a few moments the only thing that existed was yourself and the sky. Well, in this case, the two of them.

No brooding, Jon, hold onto the peace while you can. It's always too fleeting. For his part Murmur was silent, just watching the shifting colors in the sky alongside Jon, equally rapt in attention. It had been a very long time since he'd had the liberty to just stop and enjoy the beauty of Creation. Taking the time to show Jon had also reminded him some of what he loved about the universe. So in a way, this was beneficial for Murmur as well. It was so easy to get wrapped up in the chaos of existence that you forgot to stop and enjoy things.

"Pictures can never do it justice," He murmured softly, knowing full well that Jon now agreed. This was going better than Murmur could have hoped. The peace and happiness Jon was experiencing was exactly what Murmur had hoped to convey and the aurora did it better than he ever could. Excellent choice, angel, perhaps he wasn't so bad at humans after all. That smile, especially, was well worth the flight. Murmur was overjoyed he'd been able to offer this to Jon.

I am glad to have the opportunity to share it with you.

He meant that genuinely.

The way Murmur words that mental message makes Jon feel strange - pleasantly so, but strange all the same. Like maybe Murmur thinks he’s special somehow, like this view is a secret he’s chosen to share only with Jon. It’s all a little bit baffling, but Jon finds that he wants it all the same. Maybe it’s been too long since anyone regarded him as Jonathan Sims and not The Archivist. Maybe it’s been too long since he’s been regarded with anything other that hostility, hatred, and distrust, because this mental analysis draws up a deep longing ache from somewhere inside of him that Jon wasn’t aware existed.

He shifts his gaze from the sky overhead to the angel beside him, silently watching for a few moments with gloved hands folded neatly across his stomach. Jon desperately wants to Know more about Murmur, so much more - but he can guess that trying to rip any of that information out of the angel’s mind wouldn’t go well. Even if Jon could do it - and he expects that he can’t - would it be worth the price he’d pay for it?

No - Jon thinks it would not. This connection between them, the friendship they’ve been building - he suspects it would disintegrate immediately if he tried. And Jon isn’t willing to sacrifice something he values so deeply for the sake of merely collecting information. He resolves that he won’t do it.

After all, he can just ask. Not Compel - ask, like a normal person. Jon at least remembers that much of his pre-Archivist life.

“Seeing this sort of thing, it doesn’t get boring for you? I mean, you’re - what, as old as the universe itself?” Jon doesn’t know, he’s no biblical scholar. All he can do is guess. “You must’ve seen millions of spectacular things by now.”

The question isn’t accusing - just genuinely curious. Maybe there will be a hint somewhere in the angel’s answer to explain why he’d want to share this breathtaking view with Jon.

He is special. Not in some grand cosmic scheme kind of way, as far as Murmur is aware their threads do not entwine alongside any grand threads of Fate. No, Jon is special for a much more mundane reason: Murmur likes him. Jon has treated him with a kind of curiosity and kindness that Murmur hasn't experienced much in his long existence. Once again they find themselves in a similar state, long regarded so negative that even the barest hint of positive might as well be addicting. Was it wrong to want to foster this newfound friendship with them being so achingly rare?

Murmur's aware when Jon switches from watching the sky to regarding him, but Murmur does not tear his eyes away from the lights. While he also could have pointed out to Jon that if he had a question, the best way would be to simply ask, he instead chose to wait for Jon to come to that conclusion on his own. Forcibly trying to tear anything out of him was likely to be incredibly unpleasant for Jon, and indeed cause Murmur to be quite cross with him. Thankfully the man chose not to chase his initial instinct, it's important to remember one's manners.

"Not at all," He replies simply. "It's true that I am at least as old as the universe itself. Older, perhaps, as I came into existence when the Light was first split from the Dark. Well before the stars themselves were given shape, much less set in motion within the Heavens. That time you could certainly call boring... but not this." He flicks and shifts his wings thoughtfully, tucking them neatly against his back again.

"Of that time rarely have I had the opportunity to stop and truly take in the wonders of Creation. So often am I occupied with grander things it's easy to lose perspective. To stand as you do, not a part of the working mechanisms, to instead step back and observe the results." He glances back down at Jon. "Does that make sense?"

It’s going to take time and practice for Jon to untangle himself from the habit of always being on constant defense and struggling to piece together answers from cryptic clues. He’s not anyone’s enemy here, not a target for elimination on the chess board that has become his life. No one is withholding vital information from him as a method of teaching him to use the abilities he’s acquired as an avatar.

He doesn’t have to fight for everything, and that’s an adjustment that won’t come easily. But Jon’s doing his best.

“Yes … I think so.” A tiny shiver spiders down the back of his neck when Murmur turns his gaze from the sky to Jon, and it’s not because Jon’s still stretched out in the snow. “Something like … not being able to see the forest for the trees? Until you’re able to get a bit of distance from it all.” Not a perfect comparison, but it’ll do. Jon chuckles dryly. “Sounds a bit like the opposite of my situation, actually. I know I’m a part of the mechanism, but not why, or where I fit into it all.” He sighs and closes his eyes.

“My … I suppose you’d call him my mentor, though he’s not very good at it. Anyway, his name is Elias, and he has this very ‘fly by falling’ approach to guiding me through whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing. Other than stopping the rituals, of course, but I don’t think that’s all there is to it.” Though that work certainly kept Gertrude busy for several decades.

“It’s a bit maddening - I have this feeling like there’s some big joke and everyone’s in on it but me. Oh, and most of them are trying to kill me, as well.”

Admittedly Murmur does still have an unfortunate habit of sometimes being cryptic. Old habits die hard, and all of that. He's been working on it, and there does tend to be less he needs to be cryptic about. The passengers aren't each other's enemies, and there's no grand chess game he needs to be playing either. Murmur did his time, he should be allowed to live his own life eventually... right?

"More like... not being able to see the trees for the forest. Or the animals, or the insects. When you are focused only on grand mechanisms it is easy to forget why any of that matters." The little beauties, the complexities of life. Still, Jon's words bring a faint frown. Not of disapproval, more like concern. Somehow he doubts these things being hidden from him are for Jon's own benefit.

"And this Elias... you are certain his motives are to help you?" Asked gently, because Murmur knows all too well how defensive people can be about perceived allies. No one likes thinking they're being yanked around. Although Jon's cynicism may come in handy here. "One's instincts are generally there for a reason, Jon. That reason may not be clear, but... it might be worth seeking more information. Not that that is an option at present."

Oh, that question about Elias. Jon can’t help laughing, but it’s a mirthless, sharp, and bitter sound that forces its way out of his lungs.

“No,” he says, gaze turned once again toward Murmur. “In fact, I’m fairly certain that whatever motives Elias may have, they’re not at all about helping me. He killed the woman who was Archivist before me, and at least one other person that we know of.”

The image of Jurgen Leitner’s bloody, bludgeoned body is something Jon suspects will haunt him for the rest of his life. Murmur may be able to pick up on a flash of that terror and shock Jon felt upon walking back into his office and finding the man killed so horribly. Jon takes a slow, deep breath of the cold, cleansing air to steady his nerves so he can move on.

“If everything went according to plan, he should be locked up by now. A couple of my assistants stayed behind to gather evidence when the others and I set off to stop the Unknowing. If everything went according to plan.”

Jon has no way of knowing whether it did.

Murmur cast Jon a perplexed look, one eyebrow raising faintly.

"Knowing this, have you considered ceasing to follow his directions?" There's no accusation in his tone, though his tone didn't often convey much anyway given how monotone he spoke. Still it was a genuine question, as the motives and behaviors of humans was sometimes wildly variable.

Murmur did pick up on that flash, his brow furrowing in deepened concern. "I have stumbled upon something distressing, I apologize." He had brought Jon out here to relax and enjoy something beautiful, not to dig into painful memories and upset him. Should they change the subject? He did have to wonder if locking Elias up was really going to do anything, but Jon couldn't know. Not with having left while still comatose after the whole event.

It had to be driving him mad not knowing.

Right, that mental link. Jon forgot for the moment that it wasn’t just words and thoughts that came through, but feelings as well. Now he’d gone and made his partner uncomfortable - not ideal. Jon turns over on his side to face Murmur more directly, propped up with a bent elbow.

“Oh - hey, no, it’s all right.” Jon’s life is just full of traumas - it’s difficult to avoid tripping over them. Unless Murmur’d been poking around in Jon’s mind, there’s no way he could’ve known. “I, erm … I’d been talking with this man, his name was Jurgen Leitner, and I went outside to smoke a cigarette because I was feeling a bit stressed about it all, and … when I came back, he was dead.”

Jon shrugs lightly. No big deal. Certainly not the most traumatic thing he’s experienced.

“Just another day in the life of The Archivist.” He reaches for sounding unflappable, and it’s probably not as convincing as he’d hoped.

“I did consider not following Elias’ instructions, but … it’s complicated.” Jon smiles apologetically. “He runs the Institute, where I work, and … I literally can’t quit my job. None of us in the Archives can. And I don’t know how deeply he’s involved with The Eye, but he’s referred to himself as the … ‘beating heart’ of the Institute, so I think he must be in quite deep.” Jon idly presses a gloved palm int to the snow in front of him, leaving a perfect handprint behind.

“More than all of that, I was trying to save the world.” He huffs a quiet laugh under his breath. Even now, even though it is absolute truth, saying it out loud in so many words feels silly. “And if I were to walk away from that, who else would be there to take my place?”

Jon shrugs. No one, that’s who.

“For whatever reason, The Eye chose me. I have a responsibility to see it through, to stop the transformation of the world in horrible ways by these Entities. As much as I don’t like it, Elias is the only one who has an idea of what’s happening and is willing to give me even the scraps of direction that he does. He’s all I have. I suppose … I thought I’d deal with finding a way to get some distance from him after the Unknowing had been sorted. And if I didn’t survive … “

If he didn’t survive, it would either mean he’d died or been transformed. Either way, Elias wouldn’t really be the primary concern.

“Well, it wouldn’t really matter much, then, would it.”

Come now, he's an angel, he's usually uncomfortable. Wedging a being not terribly unlike a star itself into a human body will make one dreadfully uncomfortable. A little more isn't going to kill him or even make him think less of Jon. No, instead Jon's reaction only made him more confused and that much was increasingly clear through their newfound bond. Murmur stared at him, brows furrowed as that deep confusion and concern roiled within him.

"Jon," He spoke softly, but with a certain kind of authority that could only come from something so far removed from the human sphere. "You are allowed to be upset when speaking of upsetting topics. Furthermore, I am allowed to be upset on your behalf. Who has instructed you otherwise?" He seemed so earnest in his words, as though Jon's reaction indicated a great injustice had been put upon Jonathan Sims. That's exactly how Murmur saw it.

Now, he could have poked around in Jon's mind and known precisely how to dodge tripping over that but that wasn't exactly polite now was it? Nor did it form anything akin to honest bonds. Murmur has done more than his fair share of digging, of carrying the pain of others and experiencing it as they do yet... it was not common to ever forge anything more than information out of that. It wasn't the same as words shared knowingly and deliberately. He wanted to do better.

And doing better meant not letting his thoughts wander off too far. He shook his head faintly, still deeply puzzled and concerned but at least trying to keep up with the mismatch between Jon's words and his emotions. "That had to be... terribly disturbing." The thing about Murmur is there was never a sense of pity from him. Not in his quiet monotone voice, nor through the bond in the least. That emotion that expressed an understanding of pain was not pity, but not one Murmur had an appropriate word for either. Jon's attempt to sound unflapped absolutely fell short of convincing.

As Jon spoke of Elias and the institute Murmur fell silent again, though now that sharp piercing gaze of his never left Jon for the sky. He absorbed this information, mulling over exactly how to tackle so much, and more importantly what might actually be important to the conversation at hand. Elias being the "beating heart" of the Institute did raise several questions, but they were unimportant at the moment. So too was the inability to quit set aside for the moment. Murmur wanted to know, absolutely, but he was trying to pick apart what was most relevant and most important to their conversation in the moment.

Saving the world though, that's a situation Murmur understands all too well. And once that was spoken there was a point where Murmur's eyes dragged away back to the sky, and his mind went out across the cosmos temporarily lost. The grief and pain that sparked through unbidden, that strange distance as the angel was temporarily pulled into everything and nothing was incredibly brief, but sharp all the same. He didn't let himself wander far before turning back to Jon to offer something of an apologetic smile. "Heavy are the burdens placed upon those wound around the threads of Fate. I understand your predicament and... I am afraid I have no guidance." He took a deep, unnecessary breath. A gesture he'd taken to that did seem to help calibrate him back to the conversation at present.

When the words shifted back to Elias he hardened some, that flicker of concern edged with a somber weight. "If he is the only one who knows what's going on, Jon, then he is the single most dangerous entity you are dealing with." He meant that absolutely, and with a gravity that was probably very strange coming from what had been thus far a very mellow angel. Suddenly there was an intensity and certainty in his words that spoke of grave portent and warning.

After all, there was a time where Murmur was the Elias in the story.

Jon's comment about not surviving was just met with silence, and again that sadness. They didn't know each other long, yet Murmur found himself already grieving over his eventual loss. For an angel, they were all eventual losses.

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