Event: Consolidation Theory, Part Four and Five

[snowblindmods]

Characters: red-marked characters and their new friends
Location: ???
Date: Morning 354, Morning and Day 355
Summary: A quiet morning and a confusing morning, or maybe they're both, or maybe they're neither.
Warnings: gore, psychological horror, warn for specifics in the subject lines

Part Four OOC Post
Part Five OOC Post

Comments

[keepscalm]

[John. England doesn't remember seeing him during the chaos, but he doesn't really remember anyone in particular when it comes to those who attacked them. He only remembers red lines and a lot of pain. That's probably for the best, though. He doesn't really want to know whether John was contributing to what was done to him.

England opens his mouth to speak, and manages an unidentifiable syllable that feels like sandpaper in his throat, wincing as he does so. He knew the damage wasn't insignificant, but it still hurts more to talk than England expected.

He's quiet for a moment. He could try Morse code, perhaps? But the people with marks look like they're out of it, as well, even if they aren't as injured. On the other hand, hearing England strain himself might upset John further.

He tries the Morse code, tapping the blood-crusted fingernails of his good hand against the floor of his cell. He's a little slow, since even though this arm isn't broken, it's not exactly unscathed.] You don't want to know.

[jumpthegun]

[John's expression is confused before he picks up what the other man is doing. When he mentally deciphers the answer, a cold dread settles in the pit of his stomach.]

England... are we Prophet converts?

[Are you a sinner?]

[keepscalm]

[England manages a slow movement of his head, the motion indicating "no." He taps to elaborate further.] Something different. Miller did something and you all attacked us.

[It's a far cry from the precise, surgical approach of the cult; those with the lines were like feral animals. And it seems, from John's reaction, that they don't remember what they did--unlike the converts.

Perhaps the gist is similar, one group pitted against another, but England doesn't think this is exactly the same.]

[jumpthegun]

[No. No, no, no! Not again. Not again! And this time he can't remember it.]

England, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything?

[keepscalm]

[Turns out that even the pain all over his body can't distract from the ache in his heart that results from John's words. He wants to tell John that he doesn't need to apologise, but he knows this particular despair pretty well.

Truthfully, he doesn't want to ask anything of John, but he has a hunch that it may be more helpful to give him some sort of task in this situation. He starts first:] It's not your fault.

[Then, after some thought, he taps a little more.] It's hard to speak. Would you mind translating, if necessary?

[jumpthegun]

I know.

[Logically, he knows. It's never their fault, but it doesn't make it much easier to deal with the fact that he's hurting people he cares about and who have suffered so much already.]

I can translate, yeah. Of course. I just... I can't leave the cell.

[keepscalm]

[England's body language changes slightly as he sits up a little straighter with interest. He looks over John's cell, but it doesn't appear to be notably different from his own. And the chains that kept them prisoner during the frenzy aren't in use right now.]

You can't?

[jumpthegun]

[John's expression shifts to confusion.]

No. There's the forcefield up. [He crawls over toward it and presses a hand against it.] Not sure what it's made of.