unfinishedlibrary | I'm not saying that it's aliens

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I'm not saying that it's aliens - TAKE A LOAD OFF, LOG 2

Who: Readers and Actors
What: Beta Story final log
When: November 28 - December 11
Where: Woodhurst (UK) and the SS Radiance (in space!), 2019
Content warnings: Please tag warnings in comment headers!

In Woodhurst:

There is quite a bit of confusion in the village as the weeks pass by- by now it is clear that some people are very much not themselves, and there are multiple theories as to why. Aliens, obviously- the really weird bit is that it’s not just certain edgy teens purporting this theory, but since there’s been some (alleged) activity previously, maybe they’ve come back! Some tourists (and perhaps some locals) have made signs of the ‘Take me with you!’ variety, mostly loitering in the town square or in the park, whenever they get chased out of one or the other.

Suffice it to say, those people aren’t being taken seriously by those in charge- though even they have to admit that something strange is going on. Prevailing theories amongst officials are ‘gas leakage’ and ‘water contamination,’ neither of which are suitable explanations but no one seems to want to think too hard on it. As a result, the friends and families of those acting out of sorts are in a strange position. Do they try to seek medical help? Wait and hope it sorts itself out? Or do they join the crowds bidding welcome to their potential alien guests, demanding their real loved ones return?

Visitors of all stripes might find themselves a bit more scrutinized, as a result. Didn’t a bunch of weird people show up just as people seemed to start changing? Readers and aliens alike had best be on their most normal behavior, or it’s possible they’ll get cornered by someone asking what’s happening, or… a fanatic who wants to be taken up into their spaceship. Some of whom have some weird questions about probes. Good luck figuring out what that’s about.

On the IMW Group Supply Ship: Radiance

Things are not all well further up in the atmosphere, either. The staff have had to deal with much more pushback than they were expecting, including some people who seemed to not enough understand the concept of mental health (which was not in the briefing- shouldn’t they have at least heard of it before?). A few cases also seem to be quite severe, involving a level of intervention that they weren’t really prepared for- but of course, they’re here, so they’re going to do the very best they can to get all the humans the help they need! Hopefully legally.

Most alarmingly, however, it seems there have been some kidnapping attempts! …Kidnapping attempts that didn’t involve them! Someone, or multiple someones, have managed to get the patients off the ship without first filling out their discharge paperwork, and that simply will not do. As a result, security is ramped up on the ship… sort of. There’s very little in the way of a security crew, after all, and it’s not like they can call in reinforcements. So mostly this means that there are some very tired counselors who have been put on hallway shifts, and everyone has been assigned a little name badge that they MUST wear at ALL TIMES.

(There are actual people guarding the shuttles now, but again… there’s only so much security. The real question is, do you really want to beat up the aliens who are just trying to help?)

To their credit, the various Group members are trying to listen to the concerns of the patients who are here… less than willingly, and are beginning to filter some cases back to the planet by request. But they are going to do it properly, which means the proper forms. A wrap up visit with their counselor, a form agreeing to be finished with treatment, a politely worded request to maybe not tell people about the aliens (it’s not an NDA, because the Group has never needed those, it’s really just a form asking if they’re going to talk about it so management can figure out how badly this is going to go). Oh, and would you mind filling out this survey about your experience?

Of course, not everyone is in a hurry to leave- or at least needs something to do while waiting for bits of paperwork to approve. All the regular classes and sessions are still going, and they even retrofitted one of the spas to have water instead of… whatever it was before. Now certified safe for humans!

[Information on what's available on the ship is in the first log; info post is here.]

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Again, that slight shake of his head. "I have already explained it, at more length than I would ordinarily bother. What good will repeating it do? You have chosen deliberate ignorance." There's no escaping him tonight, unless that personal teleporter gets used again. It's just a matter of patience.

He can be very patient.

The third card is tapped. "This position is for what is most needed now. This-" The fourth, "Is what you fear. What you hope for," the next one down in the figure 8 shape, "What works in your favor, if anything. And finally what is working against you to achieve your inevitable failure." This is all utterly without any sound of malice, though it still lingers on the emotional spectrum. "The eighth and final card is never selected. It remains to be revealed. Remember these placements, for all the good it will do you."

Could Curze use therapy? Absolutely. And probably some very strong medication and the regular attendance of a Sister of Silence. He has none of these, so it's fine. "What do you suppose it will tell you that you need most?"

"I want to understand. Does your kind," Because clearly this is a human, right? "want to exist in their trauma? Do you not want to heal? Did you even try?" It's not even about the soon-to-be murdered part--this is what's confounding Tsang, not only with the stranger but with some of the others.

It's not sure it believes in this card game, but there's something uncanny about the reading, even if none of it seems to make sense. Tsang would have to journal about it later (if there was a later) and then clarity might come.

But that? That was a therapy question! "Right now my chief need is safety." Which you are not providing, by the way! "But beyond that, all of us need to feel that we fulfill some purpose greater than ourselves, don't we?"

"I have also explained that already. The answer does not change simply because you ask again. Nothing changes simply because it's asked again. Nothing changes at all." Something in that draws a flicker of deep, dull sadness, but it doesn't linger long, brushed away as everything else is, inconsequential.

He wouldn't mind terrorizing the creature further simply for the alien smell of its alarm. Some things were to be savored. "What we think we need and what we actually do often differ." The card indicated is flipped over, and it probably seems ominous, a man sitting on a throne, a sharp sword across his legs. MORE VIOLENCE.

Except that's not what the Master of Swords signifies, and a faint frown crosses the Night Haunter's face, brow furrowing. "What you require now," he says with a thin ribbon of puzzlement, "Is a man you already know-" he gestures briefly to the previous card, "-Whom you already trust, who can provide you clear thinking, instruction and cleverness. He is an authority of unparalleled intelligence and power. Combined with the Sigilite's card, this is your avenue forward. He'll be your guide, though his honesty on those troubles with right and wrong earlier ...may cause pain. The sword is not for show."

That would be true, except he intends to kill this alien before sunrise. Maybe there'll be interference from an external source..? "Expecting someone to ride to your rescue?"

Tsang, forever a therapist, does note that the stranger absolutely refuses to engage with the idea that he, himself, might be traumatized and acting from a damaged psyche. Which meant, of course, he was very very lost, and Tsang knew that meant he was deserving of sympathy.

It was a little hard to rustle up sympathy with someone who was clearly (he could feel) interested in killing Tsang in ways it did not want to contemplate.

"Kaiisteron?" Yes, Kai would be enormously helpful right now. He always had the right answer, about human clothing choices and beyond. "I do not think he uses a sword, though." Unless it was in one of the advanced yoga classes Tsang had not been to yet.

"I...I will not endanger my friends." It tries another swallow of drink but it goes down hard around a knot of pure fear. It would not let the others get inured for its failing.

Obviously this human is perfectly ordinary and not at all in need of any kind of help, ignore all proof to the contrary. Curze's own troubles were irrelevant, as far as he's concerned. "You will endanger your friends if they are your friends truly. For who does not run to save someone they care for, when hearing their screams?"

Kaiisteron again, by name.

It's possible, though unlikely, it's the same mortal he'd attempted to rip the heart out of. Unless there's more he's missing. And he was, he's certain of it, with how many cards of discordia kept repeating. "But that is a problem for future you. Present you has a drink to finish."

...none of that is obvious at all. The fact that the stranger isn't even wearing a shirt and looks like the last time they saw the sun was prepubertal are not normal. Perhaps the stranger should get its vitamin D levels checked.

"Then I will not scream." Or it would do its best as this monster did his worst. How did this all go so wrong? Was it all Tsang's fault? Maybe it deserved this. As long as the others got away safely, maybe that would be all right.

Was there Sadness in this Pistachio Matcha? Tsang would find out. "You try to make what makes us strong--our compassion, our feelings--into a weakness. You are wrong."

"Everyone believes that they will be the one to not scream," he says gently, tone one of reassurance, expression almost pitying. "But I will allow that I've never practiced my craft on your kind. It may take me some trial and error." Curze is nothing if not dedicated to the one purpose of his existence, he'll figure it out, he's certain of it.

The fourth card is turned, a lightning-struck tower, the card upside down. It's considered for a long, silent moment. His voice never rises; it doesn't have to, this close. "That's what you expect of me, isn't it? That I must see it as weakness. You have listened to nothing else I have told you, so the truth of this too will be nothing more than drops of water in a river, forgotten before they're spoken."

He draws a breath through clenched teeth. It's an old story, and one he's used to letting go of. Such was not to be his fate. None would stand at his side at the end. What good was compassion? What point was there to love? It wouldn't be there in that dark and cold crypt, his killer come at last. But he didn't see them as weaknesses.

Tools, though, against some foes. Things he can use, since he will never have them for himself. "Where will compassion be, when we turn on each other like starving dogs? Where will kindness be when the sands run red? I have seen it. It is a kindness that you will not."

"I will not." He's nowhere near as confident as he sounds and he...doesn't sound very confident. But he does mean what he says. He will try his best, for his friends. "And if I do not succeed, I can last long enough for them to escape."

"Why are you even talking to me, if you intend to kill me? If you must, why not speak honestly? A confession of your own?" It takes everything in Tsang's body to reach over to try to lay a hand on top of the other's.

"Compassion is what saves us from being those starving dogs. What do you think ennobles someone? Makes them worthy of respect?" Kindness, sacrifice, compassion. Those were it.

Tsang will do its very best, and Curze is going to rely on it. The longer the alien can survive, the more likely it is someone will run to try to interfere. "I do hope you'll last long enough."

Frankly the xenos didn't seem like he'd be made of stern enough stuff.

Timing is everything. "Because I savor the taste of your fear in the air." True and also not true, there's other reasons. "Only the living can know what comes for them and tremble." The lightning tower, reversed or upright, is disaster. Sacrifice. But who's?

"It does not save anyone. You don't understand." Of course not. His smile is a bitter flash of teeth, the fourth card spun idly beneath a finger. "This place is for both of us, don't you think? The lightning tower is destruction no matter its orientation, in the position of what is most feared. The world is falling apart, you can feel some crisis looming along the horizon, and you are struggling as much as you can to try and avoid its manifestation. You don't know what to do, how to escape it. But there is no escape. Not for any of us."

"You do know it is a sign of a traumatized mind to enjoy inflicting pain on others." Hurt people hurt people, stranger!

The sacrifice is obviously Tsang's newfound, trembling courage at standing up to this terrible person who clearly wants to do terrible things to it.

"If there's no escape, then why not make your time here enjoyable?" Well, wait. Not the things the stranger seems to enjoy. "Shouldn't we all work to help each other? Why make everything miserable for everyone, including yourself?" Because, friend, you are deeply unhappy. Every emotive spine on Tsang's body can feel it.

"I do not enjoy what I must do," is the quiet and terribly dry lie. "It is my duty, nothing more." Oh but he did and always would and always had. There was a singular, secret joy in watching those who would disturb Imperial order suffer for their mistakes.

One black eyebrow arches slightly - here he is being rebuked for (totally not) enjoying inflicting suffering, and then being told he should make his time more enjoyable. With more torture, by context! "That seems like unwise advice, if you truly believe I enjoy terrifying you wretches into compliance." Which. He does. Shh. "With such an idea, will you lay yourself upon my table so I might find a little happiness in writing your sins on the walls in your blood? Then there will be two less unhappinesses in the world."

Since Tsang will be dead.

"Sir-ma'am-person." Since the other never did correct his chosen form of address. "You do." Tsang is an empath. It doesn't mean that it can detect lies, but it can detect, palpably, a current of excitement under the other's words. "If you lie to yourself, how can you expect to know the truth of anything?"

"No one can have their needs met by forcing another to meet them. That's toxic behavior." Your sacral chakra is out of alignment. Perhaps some crystal healing would help. "But you know that were I to do so, it would be ephemeral, fleeting. That's not true happiness."

"See to your own wrongs before attempting to address mine, xenos." The rebuke is terribly mild, for all that under it stirs malevolence once more. "Are you not attempting to address your needs by forcing them upon others? Oh but you don't think it's the same thing. It is. You don't consent to me skinning you alive, no-one here has consented to being snatched up and replaced by revolting mockeries."

"I can do both!" It can multitask, like panic, try to think clearly, and hold a conversation. "We do not force. We offer. We invite. We show people opportunities they might not otherwise have due to injustice." Because face it, Earth society is full of injustice.

If the stranger skinned Tsang, he would surely discover the human costume. And Tsang underneath. Tsang would end up pickled in some vat in some government top secret holding area, it just knew it!

"Why skinning?" Because that's, uh, weird.

There's something terribly like a disappointed sigh before the primarch rises to bare feet.

And makes a grab for the alien with viselike strength but not bone-shattering force. He can't do that anymore, even if he wanted to.

Tsang, who is very obviously the prey here, has picked up prey instincts, and jolts to its feet just a part second after the other rises, in panic knocking the rest of its drink on the floor. Ice cubes and green liquid everywhere, splashing as the chair gets knocked backward too.

Now there's a scene, and everyone in the cafe is looking. "HAHAHA," Tsang does a very loud very fake laugh. The fakest, and Curze could probably hear the nervous tremble in its voice. "Silly me!" Spilling its drink like that. "I will just...go get some paper towels to clean that up!" Right? RIGHT?

"Don't run." He sounds so reasonable, if very quiet, except for the actual words. "I would prefer not to have to harm anyone here in retaliation for your escape. Come now. Think of it as an invitation."

He doesn't care who's watching, because he's going to go for Tsang again, patient and deliberate.

That's mean: to threaten the safety of others. It's not very nice at all to make others' safety dependent on Tsang's behavior. Tsang wavers, because it really wants to run, but that is a threat and a mean one, so instead, it just edges back a step, which is not far enough apparently to dodge.

"Others are watching!" it stage whispers.

It's very mean! And oddly enough, it seems to work. Handy. He didn't much want to butcher a bunch of random bystanders for minimal reason. "They are!" Curze agrees brightly. "Unwilling participants in your little stageplay. This isn't force any more than your kidnapping people was, why are you so frightened?"

"Because when we borrow humans, we ask them if they want to color their feelings, and you...want to do very bad things to me!" Sorry, Curze, but art therapy and flaying are not interchangeable!

Which is admitting it's frightened, but, well, that's been no secret for some time.

"Taking without asking first is stealing. Stealing a person is kidnapping and occasionally slavery." Therapy and flaying could well be interchangeable. It made him feel better, and wasn't that the point? "I have explained this. In detail. And now I too want to color my feelings, with whatever runs in your veins."

Another effort is made at catching the xenos, and if he can actually SUCCEED, simply.. drag it back to the table. And sit down again, with his hold maintained.

Um. Respectfully, no? Borrowed things could be put back. Skinned things...ewww please don't make Tsang think about that.

"Why are you so mean?" Tsang is trying to sound clinical but its voice comes out a thready whisper. If Curze likes fear, this is a feast. "There's no need for any of this."

Of course Tsang is so busy trying to find words that will save it and everyone else in the Starbucks that it doesn't dodge--not that it would have been that lucky twice, honestly--and the other's hand clamps around Tsang's puny right wrist. It gets dragged down to its chair, in a growing puddle of Pistachio Matcha, with a 'meep'. The other won't do terrible things to it here, right? So as long as they stayed here, Tsang was all right.

With the right medical advances, skinning is also not permanent! Which granted were never on hand when Konrad or his sons set to work, but that's niggling little details that don't need dwelling upon.

They all like fear, to varying degrees. For some, it's merely a pleasant side effect to a grim purpose. For others, it is the purpose. "There is need for all of this." This is morose. "And I am 'mean' because I am meant to be. Not because I wish to be."

Unlike his refusal to acknowledge savoring the scent of fear, the tremor beneath his fingers in Tsang's pathetically thin wrist, this is true and terribly bitter. "My senses are tuned to guilt and terror. It is my purpose, written into my blood and my fate, to see justice enacted upon a disobedient galaxy and carve retribution into those who disrupt the perfect order of the Emperor's plans." His free hand closes in an obscene mockery of gentleness on Tsang's shoulder, ragged nails just barely not biting in. "I am what I must be so others do not have to pick up the mantle of my role, and gentler hearts may maintain that foolish, transitory illusion that happiness has any meaning whatsoever." He knows otherwise.

He's always known otherwise.

"Some of my kin teach how to build. To create. To encourage hope for greater things than this blind scrabbling in the dark. There are those who's sole purpose is to inspire, to stir the dreams and wonder that once drove humanity from Holy Terra to reach for the vastness between stars. They have their duties. But it is not mine."

Edited 2025-12-15 00:46 (UTC)

Maybe the other would be satisfied with just peeling off Tsang's human costume. It rather doubted it. But hope mattered! Maybe.

"But you can change! You don't have to let anyone define you. The whole point of actualization is that we have the freedom to become what we want, despite our pasts!" This isn't begging for its life anymore, but the earnest fervor of a true devotee of its vocation. Therapy HELPED. It made things BETTER!

"Don't you believe in free will?"

If this is a costume then he'd want BOTH hides. It would be a shame to separate the two now! One skin for each pauldron.

"No."

Absolute, unshakable certainty. There's not even the shadow of a doubt, he knows it as surely as he knows any other fundamental law of reality. "Free will implies the future is not set. It is, and can no more be altered than the past. We maintain the delusion that choice matters and we may change the outcome, for we can still see the event horizon stretching before us and perhaps we can still course correct, unaware we are already caught utterly in its gravity well."

Worse yet, it's not just belief. That's the sound and feeling of experience. "And so the danse macabre continues, the pathetic and pointless struggle against inevitability that not a single thing in all of existence can avoid. You may rage against your ultimate fate, deny it and swear you will change what it is .. and you will fail. Or accept your place, resigned and uncomplaining, and in acceptance find some measure of peace. It is the only peace there is." Tsang's wrist is released, only so he can close that hand on the alien's shoulder too, resting his hands on either side of its neck.

"There is no changing it. I have tried. I have tried, and I have failed. And so I will be what is required of me. And when the atrocities I commit in my Father's name no longer suit his great Work, when he has no need for monsters in the shadows on the advent of that glorious planned future, I will reap in full the price of my sins."

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