redshiftlogs | Farm Livin' [open]

Entry tags:

original: carlisle longinmouth

Farm Livin' [open]

Who: Carlisle Longinmouth, farm animals, and anyone else who might wander into the area
What: With Anchor's #1 Ranch Hand gone, someone had to take care of the animals.
When: Late June/throughout July
Where: Agricultural Level, mostly near the barns/livestock and the adjacent forested area
Warnings: Will update as necessary!

As someone who had everything he ever knew either ruined, upended, or permanently changed for the worse within the near-year he's been aware of himself, Carlisle is glad to have some semblance of a routine back. True, it came at an awful cost, but in an effort to maintain his nerves — and therefore keep his more volatile, necrotic energies in check — he will take what victories he can get, however small they may be.

It started when he first moved into the barn. He's been there for well over a month now, and it took most of that time for the animals to adjust to his presence; with his head-to-toe outfit and fastidious nature, Carlisle is a far cry from their former farmhand, but he simply couldn't let Kieran's animals be without a caretaker. Given the man disappeared so soon after he'd been healed — and after Carlisle had begun to form the barest notion that they could be friends — the former clergyman is quick to blame himself for Kieran's vanishing. What's one more addition to his long list of sins? He has so much to atone for already, and a seemingly endless existence to do it. Who better to be responsible for Anchor's loss but him?

It's self-fulfilling prophecy, of course, but Carlisle is hesitant to label it as such. He felt a genuine bond with Reynir, who then disappeared. The same goes for Kieran, and now he's gone. Carlisle has yet to be proven wrong, shown that the misfortune he's said to breed with his very presence isn't a guarantee, but with only his own experiences to go on, he cannot say he believes otherwise. The only reason he remains in the colony at all is because of the insistence of a few individuals — that, and his own cowardice toward what lies in the wasteland outside of Anchor. The vast, open expanse is enough to have him reeling.

As it is, he told those same few individuals that he was moving from the housing quarters to the barn, slowly converting one of the sheds into a private home as the days went by. He claimed it was for the sake of the animals, and that it'd be a good exercise for him. By surrounding himself with living creatures who depended on him, he'd have to not only have to continue to live withing Anchor, but he would have to master his often destructive energies, keeping them in line lest he wanted their deaths on his hands. It was grim motivation, but motivation none the less. There was a heavier truth lying just beneath that reasoning: he felt that if any animals disappeared, no one would notice, whereas being in proximity of people put them at risk — those he would consider his friends included.

And so, he moved away from them, keeping his distance much as he did in life. It didn't do him any good then, either.

Well, that's not to say that living at the barn hasn't done him some good. Carlisle has indeed gotten a better hold on the necrotic magic that animates him, been able to practice wielding them in the safety of his solitude. He no longer rots everything he touches, can walk across the grasses of the fields without leaving a trail of dying, withered stalks behind him. Animals do not shift uncomfortably at his touch, and there some satisfaction in that. Each day, he feeds them, brushes them, goes about his prayer, watches over those who need him, works a little more on making the barn habitable. It's a routine, and one that often has him interacting less and less with people.

But just because he doesn't seek them out doesn't mean he's completely away from them. He actually has help on the farm some days: there's Pratt, who has shown him how to more or less manage the animals, and Ami, who comes by the brush the horses on a regular basis. Try as he might to fully isolate himself, Carlisle finds that he can't... and deep down, he isn't sure he wants to, no matter how he may seclude himself, both unconsciously or otherwise. Despite everything that's happened in his vicinity, everything he's done as the Blight Heir, Carlisle doesn't want to be alone. He's constantly trying to make amends for an endless guilt that festers in his gut. At least the animals don't judge him as harshly as he judges himself.

When dropping by the agricultural area, one might see Carlisle tending to the start of his garden: he's built up a bed of soil and surrounded it with rocks, hoping to deter the few chickens he has from plucking the new sprouts as they emerge. Acting as an additional deterrent is a tiny dragon, the blue-and-white wyrmling often nestled atop a pole in the center of the bed. Though barely bigger than a chicken himself, he does his best to act as a guard dog, keeping watch over the budding plants and hissing at anyone who would approach, letting loose a breath of chilling air.

When not there, Carlisle can be found over by the field as he tends to the cattle, letting them graze on the grasses to their hearts' content while he prepares their hay or (badly) fixes the fence. Sitting among the cattle is their protector: a hulking beast of an undead abomination. Its malformed body is no less than eight feet tall when sitting, closer to nine or ten when standing, making it out like a sore thumb among the cows and bulls; its rib cage has far too many ribs, and houses a vibrant, blue light that blazes like fire within its cavernous torso. Its frame is built of materials of all sorts, mismatched fragments of both human and animal bone, as well as a twisted branch or two making up its many limbs. The skull of a long-dead cow acts as its head, its eyes shining with the same blue light that burns in its chest. Most notable is a collar that hangs from the human-spine-turned-neck, a shiny bell dangling there for all to see.

And on rare occasion, Carlisle is outside the barn, etching into its walls an elaborate glyph. He accomplishes this with what appears to be a screw with a crude handle added to it. While it may not be a precision tool, it gets the job done, so long as he can work uninterrupted. No matter where one sees him, it's apparent he's attempting to adjust to his new life: in addition to his usual garb, Carlisle now tends to wear a pair of work gloves right on top of his normal ones, as well as a leather apron. With only one proper outfit that masks his emaciated frame, he's not eager to get stains on it.

Then again, he's not always eager for company, either. There are just some things he cannot avoid.

[ooc: alternatively, if none of these prompts are up your alley, hit me up on Discord or Plurk, and we can plot!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Qubit rolls his eyes. ] Fine, fine. I don't know exactly. I mean, there is a physical place she's drawing them from - in fact, she'd recently worked out how to go there - but as to whether that place is the afterlife, or an afterlife, or something else altogether - that, I don't know.

[ Not that he had time to look into it, what with averting the apocalypse and all. But that's not the only reason. ]

... And frankly, it's a can of worms even I'm reluctant to open.

[Carlisle's brow knits. While the concept of an 'afterlife' is relatively foreign to him, he gets the basic idea: it would be as though she were pulling souls directly from his goddess' maw to use as weapons, traveling through a divine realm the likes of which no mortal should ever witness.

Or, perhaps, like jaunting through the Land Beyond Living. Either way, it's a horrific concept, now that he lingers on it.]

I do not blame you, for then you would have to ask if she is the only one able to access that plane, to summon those who dwell there. And what limits would there be to such a gift? Could she draw anyone from there, so long as she could tell their story? Are they aware of what has happened to them? And if so, what do they think of their spirits being used in such a way, treated as tools rather than the people they used to be?

[ Although he has the answers to some of those questions, Qubit lets them stay rhetorical for now, merely nodding in acknowledgement. ]

And that's not even to mention the theological implications. But then...

[ He frowns, dissatisfied. This isn't quite the direction he wanted to take. Maybe he shouldn't have led with her powers, if he wants to leave Carlisle with a positive impression of her. ]

... I think she sees it as a way to honor the dead, not exploit them. To keep their memory alive. Whatever the case, the important thing to me is that she's at peace with it. She's always preferred to focus on what she can do for the living.

[ There's unmistakable fondness in his tone, but it's not the same as the fondness he showed for Tony. It lacks the same undercurrent of guilt, for a start. ]

[Ah, there's that tone of sentimentality. It's different from before, but more present than when he spoke of his other living teammate. Qubit jumps to Kaidan's defense, as well, though Carlisle assumes it's for better reasons than for why he defended Tony: if she survived their former ally's rampage, chances are she was one of the ones who helped defend their world against him. Honorable, indeed.]

I suppose that's something we could all agree on, whatever our methods.

[A beat.]

Is that whose name you called that day we were drawn into the Shift? Hers?

Edited 2021-02-09 07:19 (UTC)

[ At first Qubit seems surprised, but he takes a moment to think back to that day, and... ]

I suppose I did. I'm surprised you remember, that was months ago.

[ He sighs, putting his hands in his pockets, and looks up into the leaves. ]

Not much to explain there. I thought I saw her for a moment. Most likely a hallucination brought on by the Shift, though it's hard to say for sure, of course.

[Carlisle is frankly surprised he remembered as well, even if it did take him a bit to recall exactly when he'd heard that name before. It was a detail that stuck out to him at the time, something he'd focused on momentarily while trying to moderate his own energies, lest they overwhelm him at the worst of times.

Not that they hadn't done so afterward, but at least he wasn't holding Qubit's hand at that point.]

I assume you miss your companions, your remaining members of the Paradigm. Were you close?

[ He does miss them. Not constantly, these days, and not the same way he misses the before times, but he misses them all the same. No one's been through the fire with him like they have. ]

I'd say so. [ ... With a little reluctance, he corrects himself. ] Well - more so Kaidan than Gil. Don't get me wrong, he's an excellent teammate. I'd be just as glad to see either of them. But... Kaidan and I had more opportunity to work together, you could say.

[ Yeah, he's talking around something again. Old habits die hard. ]

[Carlisle notices those old habits die hard, and so he presses.]

How so? Was she as technologically-inclined as you are?

No, it's - [ he sighs. ] Gil... dropped off the grid for a while. Not that I can blame him. He had just lost his wings.

[ That one wasn't Qubit's fault, at least, but it still sucks. He's pretty sure Gil and Bette split up somewhere in the same timeframe, as well, but at the moment that's less relevant and more dirty laundry. ]

Kaidan stuck around. She kept what was left of the team together - which, by that point, was a feat. [ dryly- ] If not for her, Cary and I would've strangled each other inside of a week.

[ He probably doesn't mean that literally. Maybe. ]

Ah.

[He assumes there aren't healers in Qubit's world skilled enough to deal with that, either. Then again, perhaps his wings were gained through magical means, and weren't merely extra appendages with which he was born. Maybe they weren't lost in some gruesome way.

Given the rest of the story thus far, Carlisle's not optimistic about that, and so he lets Qubit gloss right past it.]

And which one is Cary?

[ Qubit's face wrinkles as if he's smelled something unpleasant. ] Cary. Cary was... [ Ugh. He just got done being angry, he doesn't want to talk about Cary right now. Can't we just say "he sucked" and leave it at that? ]

... No, I'll come back to him later. Suffice to say, we didn't see eye to eye. My point was, Kaidan kept the peace - kept our eyes forward, and off each other. She'd lost just as much as any of us - more, even - but she never lost her drive, her compassion... her principles. She stayed focused, but without losing perspective. And that's a rare combination.

Edited 2021-02-10 19:38 (UTC)

[Apparently, Cary is a sore subject, one Qubit dodges so readily that he immediately ends up back on Kaidan. Carlisle lets him, still wanting Qubit to cool his head before returning to heavier subjects.]

I see. You clearly hold a great deal of admiration for her.

[Perhaps not as much as he held for Tony, but definitely more than he holds for himself. Carlisle would argue with Qubit on whether or not he maintained his own drive and compassion, but that would just stoke the flames he's hoping to avoid for the time being.]

Yes.

[ He smiles, and it's actually not as bittersweet as usual. It turns out this line of conversation is buoying his mood considerably, he notes. ]

Kaidan is... extraordinarily resilient. She was the youngest on the team until Sam joined up, you know. I remember she was so unsure of herself back then. But now... in just the short time I've known her, she's grown leaps and bounds. I can't begin to say how proud of her I am.

[Qubit's genuinely sweet sentiment does not go unnoticed by Carlisle, who cannot help but smile just a little himself. He does like to see his friend in a good mood, especially given the turmoil he's been through lately, what with his missing memory and the topic of Tony.]

Hopefully, you were able to tell her at least once before you were spirited away from your world. Such words can mean a lot, you know, especially in dire times.

[ Nods. ] I know. And I did, thankfully. Never know when you'll get another chance, sometimes.

[ Running for your life will do that. Still, it's ... a nice thing to remember. It's nice that, amidst all the memories of terror and grief and darkness, there are also these bright spots now and again. Breaks in the clouds amidst the storm. ]

It's a comforting thought, I suppose. Knowing that at least the world is in good hands. Kaidan's come into her own, and Gil - he's lived millennia, he's seen civilizations rise and fall and rise again. Between his experience, and her hope... if anyone can bring humanity back from the brink, it's them.

[ His smile wanes somewhat. ] Much as I wish I could be there to help.

To be torn from your world at such a critical moment, when your help is most needed... I cannot imagine the frustration.

[Carlisle's brow furrows as he tears his eyes from Qubit, looking to the path ahead of them.]

Do you believe it will be a different place when you return?

I know it will. [ He answers without hesitation; this is something he's thought about at length. ] After all, this was the largest mass casualty event since the Second World War. Governments have collapsed, institutions have crumbled... entire countries have been depopulated. [ He shakes his head solemnly. ] There's no going back to the old status quo after a disaster like that.

... The real question is, how will it change? You see - [ Out come the hands. ] - whenever there's a breakdown of social order, people tend to respond in one of two ways: they help others, or they help themselves. So, which will win out? Will humanity give in to its basest instincts? Hoard resources, embrace tribalism, raise up tyrants to "protect" them? Or will we finally put aside hatred and bigotry, come together as a species - actually learn from our mistakes, for a change? Not just rebuild, but improve, and leave something better for future generations?

[ It's obvious which of those options Qubit would prefer, of course. He even sounds kind of wistful about it. But which one he actually finds more likely...? ]

[Though Carlisle gets the feeling the people of Qubit's world tend to choose serving their baser instincts over the good of their fellow man — primarily from the fact that this is not the first mass casualty event his world has had — he finds his friend's speculation interesting all the same. At least his world has a chance to rebuild. Carlisle isn't sure it will ever be an option for Bear Den.]

Are you afraid you are missing that? On helping shape a better world?

[ Qubit goes quiet for a moment.

On the one hand, absolutely. There's a lot he could do to help, and it's the whole reason he got into this business to begin with. But on the other hand... ]

... I don't know. I... sort of feel like I've already had my shot.

Edited 2021-02-11 16:12 (UTC)

[The guilt creeps into the conversation once more, accompanying the unsaid in Qubit's statement. He feels like he's already had his shot, and he blew it spectacularly. Carlisle turns his eyes to his companion once more, his tone gentle.]

Perhaps, but that does not mean there are no second chances, nor does it mean the world you left behind would not benefit from your insight and abilities, even if many would distrust you for what you've done. You talk about experience and hope and compassion, Mister Qubit — do not discount the fact that you have those qualities yourself.

[ Qubit listens, but then lets out a quiet chuckle. ]

Plagiarist.

[Qubit might not be able to see it, but Carlisle is smirking behind that mask of his.]

I don't know what you mean. I'm simply sharing the advice a clever fellow once gave to me.

Edited 2021-02-12 10:53 (UTC)

Heh! [ A plagiarist and a flatterer! Longinmouth, you card. ]

[ Nevertheless, it's funny that the same advice applies. Just another sign of how alike they are, he supposes. If he were to go home, Carlisle would be in much the same boat. With his healing abilities, there's a lot of material good he could do - but only if he's allowed to. What he did to Bear Den, though unintentional, can't be undone any more than what Qubit did to his universe. Or what Tony did to Sky City.

He lets the silence sit between them for a few minutes, mulling things over in his head as they walk. Soon the path takes them by the fishing pond, a walkway made of fake plastic wood allowing visitors to stand directly above the water. A metal bench (which looks suspiciously like it was scavenged from a cafeteria table) has been bolted to the walkway, with spots of rust clinging to the edges. Not comfortable, but serviceable enough. Peering over the edge, he can make out the outlines of small fish as they dart through the murky water. ]

... Second chances. [ He picks up where they left off, without preamble. ] A second chance doesn't just... come out of nowhere. It's not something you can make for yourself, it has to be given. Isn't that so?

[Carlisle nods at Qubit's assessment, joining him at the side of the bridge, the light of his eyes reflected in the water even in the simulated daylight.]

I suppose.

[He looks into the pond, a fish coming up to investigate the unusual light; he steps away from the side of the bridge only a moment later, his arms crossing over themselves in discomfort. It's a pond rather than a river, but the feeling is largely the same.]

I have spent my entire life trying to atone for existing in spite of my affliction. I will spend what time I have left in this form making amends for what I did to my home and my family. No matter my efforts, I may never be forgiven.

[And it's unlikely he'll ever forgive himself. That much goes unsaid; Qubit knows, and Carlisle knows he knows.]

Second chances must be given, yes. But I believe what we do to atone can convince others to grant them to you in the first place. One must show they are deserving of a second chance at all, and that they want it. Otherwise, there is little point, whether in the eyes of their fellow people or what higher powers look upon them.

Edited 2021-02-15 08:45 (UTC)

[ Qubit notices Carlisle backing away, but he lingers at the water's edge a moment longer, looking down at his reflection. It's not the crispest, but he still looks fine. Better than he's looked in weeks. It doesn't even look as if he's been crying. And yet...

His first encounter with a mirror after the maze was... surreal. Seeing his own face, knowing, at least intellectually, that it was his - yet unable to shake the sense that he was looking at a stranger. What he feels now isn't dissimilar. Ironic, isn't it? Through this whole ordeal, the question at the forefront of his mind has been, "Who is the man in the mirror?" But even now, with his memory restored in full... he's still not sure. ]

... But it's all subjective, is my point. Sometimes, none of that is good enough. Sometimes what people want isn't remorse, or atonement, or restitution. Sometimes all they want are their loved ones back, and no amount of penance can give them that.

[ Talwart comes to mind. Once his culpability was exposed, the people there didn't want his apologies or excuses, or even his help. They wanted his head - and even that wouldn't have made things right. ]

There's no way to ensure we'll get a second chance. Apart from...

[ He raises his head as something dawns on him. A few pieces click together. ]

... apart from manipulating how we're perceived.

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