eyemind | Who or what are you (and why am I the way I am?)

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Who or what are you (and why am I the way I am?)

Who?: Mur and Richard Strand
What?: Richard has to confront a terrifying reality on the ship
When?: Monday-ish
Warnings?: Probably a lot of swearing. A lot of violence.
Notes: Rated T for teen

Richard Strand is troubled.

Alex is here, and Alex believes this place is good. Alex is a reasonable woman and it hurts him to think of her like this. Believing in this.

Still in it's own way it is pleasant to be here and he managed to acquire other clothing - a second suit, and a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt he has done his best not to let Alex see him in. He has never let his guard down around her. He can't. She thinks - or thought - that he had something to offer and here...

Being alone with his thoughts is difficult mostly because the longer he's here the more he has a headache. He dreams and it's like he's standing in a crowded room. It's a room full of whispering and he can't stand it because the longer he's here the worse it gets.

Case in point. Here he is in the cafeteria and the whispering is getting worse until -

There's something like a sun nearby.

It's blinding. No whispering just a gentle murmur and when he looks over there's that strange man that he saw earlier.

He blinks, and stares.

and blinks.

And stares.

He can't help it, staring at the man blankly while - awkwardly - holding a hand over his eyes like he's looking at the sun. As far as him - there is a loud sound of crashing waves roaring whenever looks at his mind.

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Pardon?

Richard adjusts his glasses and avoids looking at him, "You've dropped the facade. It's not seeing anything. How do you function with so many...appendages. Seeing things?"

And then he snorts, "It's not a question of now. You've decided to do this.Because you're an alien."

Rolling his eyes, he nods, "I will take that tea if you tell me about your species." he pauses, "I find aliens fascinating."

"I have dropped nothing," He insists gently, the monotone not faltering at all as he busies about heating water for the tea. He's quite certain Richard's going to need his calm down time after, or during, this. "I am not strictly a physical presence as you understand it." Beyond that it's hard to explain, when you've always been wheels covered in wings and eyes and made up of light and math you just kind of function without questioning it.

That accusation, however, earned a bright laugh. "Oh, hardly. Though I suppose it also might not be wholly inaccurate. I have also quite enjoyed the description 'manifested algorithm'. However, once more, I assure you this is not intentional on my part. I do loathe these discussions after all and attempt to avoid them whenever I can."

Every tiresome time he has to do it. "I intended to make you a tea anyway." He's going to take it as a request, you're welcome.

"I'm a human being." He shakes his head, "I'm not capable of anything - Or at least I've never encountered anything like you. It's very possible that it's because you possess abilities that a human being doesn't."

It's his turn to begin to get annoyed. Almost like this being is hinting there's something off about him. Richard frowns and presses his lips together because it almost sounds like it's him that's doing it. That's what this thing is implying and he isn't. No matter what this thing or Tanis or anyone else thought...

"...Human beings don't have abilities beyond a potential standard here but I'm not seeing anything beyond what human beings are capable of."

"You sell yourself too short, I also don't think you are being entirely honest with yourself." There are plenty of humans who can see beyond what would be considered the norm to varying degrees. But, like Strand, they stop themselves. "As for not encountering anything like me that I will accept, we are exceptionally elusive. Our presence tends to cause problems among humans." Panic, worship, blood sacrifices. It's all very messy.

Oh Richard, it is you. It is absolutely you, and a bit frustrating because Murmur had wanted to play the game longer. Really he'd hoped that wall would stay up so he'd have an opportunity to wing bop him or something. No such luck.

"Just because you deny it to yourselves, blind yourselves, does not mean that it hasn't always existed. You simply lack the tools with which to measure it."

He's on firmer ground here but-

"You sound like someone I have crossed paths with." His eyes narrow and there is a very clear picture of a smirking yet totally calm and at peace with himself Tanis Braun. Braun who believes this is some sort of evolution, that this thing is some sort of-

"...I don't have any abilities." His mouth sets in a thin line, "I study them. I don't participate in delusions and as for what you are..."

Eyes. That's what he's imagining in his mind.

"...No." He moves to rise, "You're some sort of alien species because that is impossible. The church is a delusion created by men who want to con hardworking desperate people who could be devoting their lives to more."

"Oh?" He sounds almost amused, as amused as Murmur can manage anyway. He is grinning when he finally makes his way over with a pair of steeping teas for the both of them, setting Strand's in front of him.

"Lying does not become you, Dr. Strand." He reprimands gently, though there's an edge of warning there. He won't play gently forever.

However, he brightens again. "So you do know what I am," You played yourself, Strand. "As for the church I will confirm that it is a human institution by humans, for humans. We have had some unfortunate influence in the past, over enthusiasm on the part of my brethren. They did not foresee the long term outcomes."

So many eyes. So much light.

Stop it, Stop it, Stop it. He wanted alex's sense of wonder at this because she would at least try to say something to make him feel better. The rational that she cared. It hits him that she does care, she cares more than she should more than he deserves. She'd at least try and argue with him about this thing because he-

"Don't look at me. Don't look at me you're blinding." He has a headache, "Let me gather myself." His throat works and when he speaks it's with genuine emotion, "Please. I'm not psychic. Obviously you're seeing something else entirely. Obviously."

She would do a much better job of calming him down, Murmur isn't good at this part. He doesn't talk to humans on this level often enough. The more gregarious are usually in charge of that.

"Close your eyes and breathe," He suggests, stepping back to lean against the counter. He is, unfortunately, unable to dim his light any further. He's been holding it down since they all arrived, and as far as looking goes well he can't really stop doing that entirely either. Even if he'd love to do so.

"You know that isn't true, why does it pain you so?"

"Richard I won't tolerate these lies from you any longer."

"Father Cheryl is scared and I'm scared! Father please! They're giving us nightmares!-"

"Because you have allowed yourself to stupidly, foolishly, let yourself be swayed by your younger sister's childish antics."

"She's not a child! They're real, I've seen them, I've sensed them-"

That was when his hand came down.

"Because leading humans along like that is false and manipulative. People are desperate foolish children just waiting for a con man to take advantage of them." His head shakes, "It's ridiculous. Foolish and hurts them. and I won't let anyone do that."

Beneath his cruelty. Beneath his manipulation, he is a good man.

He wasn't looking intentionally, wasn't digging deeper than that which rested on the surface, yet he could still feel the pain. The child's grief and betrayal. There was more behind Richard's motives than mere stubbornness.

Perhaps he wasn't so lost.

"You're not wrong, the cruelty of man is terrible and great," There's a heaviness to his words, a great sorrow to the quiet song his essence sings. He understands. "Has your own deception protected them? Has it protected you?"

Or has it instead left him and those around him vulnerable to that which they don't understand?

No. No No No.

Why is his mind turning to someone needing to comfort him? He doesn't need anyone. Not Alex or Ruby or Tanis if you get close you get hurt. You get hurt and you get left alone.

Mr. Strand, you are going to have to face the prospect of jailtime.

He stands, features firm.

"Thank you for your time I apologize if my presence disrupted you."

The whispers run through his head and he knows, he knows it is the truth. That what this thing speaks is something that he has managed to avoid by filling his life with work. The sound of roaring waves. Crackling fires. Whispers.

Because he's human and that's normal. This self imposed isolation is not, all it does is wound those who care.

Murmur only bows his head slightly in acknowledgement. "At least take your tea," The space tea is very calming after all.

"No problem has ever been solved by avoidance, Dr. Strand. Should you require me, I think you know how to find me."

He'll not stop him, clearly the man needs some time to himself.

Richard just turns and glares.

"I'm not letting you manipulate me with this. If you -"

The brightness, the eyes. He presses his lips together thinly and bares his teeth.

"Your kind owes us a lot more than you might be willing to pay."

And he turns and stalks off.

"Before you start throwing stones about manipulation, you may want to issue a few apologies." He offers flippantly, unconcerned.

Right up until he throws his next accusation. The temperature drops sharply, pointedly, almost painfully. Richard would see his own breath, though Murmur strangely had none. That weight is back, the oppressive pressure of far too many eyes.

But he said nothing, reigning in that flare of anger before he could spit too much venom in Strand's direction. What did he know about sacrifice?

It's echoing. It's like he's down at the bottom of a well staring upward and it's never been this bad before.

Ever.

because I fill my time with science. I work. I work to avoid the dreams. I work

"...Stop. stop." His throat clenches. His mind instinctively pushes in the direction of the thing like a kitten staring down a lion.

Does he run? Is he afraid absolutely because he can hear his father's voice as he glares back, drawing himself up with his cup of tea his hands shaking. Walking away.

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Who or what are you (and why am I the way I am?)

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TW: Child abuse mentions

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