trans_9 | Can't Have Forever

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Current Location: Stacy: The Sensoriums
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Can't Have Forever

Title: Can't Have Forever
:Location: Stacy; The Sensoriums

It was strange how quickly the laughter of a pillow fight could turn.

Logically, Renne knew the questions were simple, innocent, and very easy questions. He'd been asked those questions hundreds of times through the years and had rarely felt what he did now when answering them. Logically, he shouldn't have felt much of anything beyond the distant pang that was usually short lived.

And logically, the seaside tavern he'd asked the Sensorium chamber to produce should have done more than the little it did. Cooking was therapeutic most often and cooking in a place he knew, a place he loved, had most often doubled that.

Why it wasn't working this time, he had no logical answer.

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Stephen was used to this. He should have been, anyway. It wouldn't be the first time that one of his friends had, uncomprehendingly, run off his mouth and hurt another one.

Usually that was Morgan's province, though. He really shouldn't be thinking of his best friend, though. He was hoping beyond hope that the Akashic was sleeping in a pod somewhere...but...

The smells alone would've gotten his attention, but the fact that Renne and cooking had been tied together in recent memory only indicated that he was, indeed, on the right track. Though he paused at the sight of the tavern, then shrugged and walked in to take a seat at the bar. The motions were familiar, even if the atmosphere wasn't. It didn't really help pushing the memories down.

"Hey, Renne, are you..." And stop. That was really a dumb question, Stephen. "Well. I came to see if you needed anything." That, at least, was honest.

It's funny how fast a cheerful, rhythmic sea shanty can die right on a would-be singer's mouth.

Then again, he hadn't expected a "patron" of any sort, let alone Stephen's voice. For another minute, Renne takes refuge in the concentration of his cooking -- Preparing meats to him are delicate processes, you see, and he's perhaps bordering on fanatic about how well something of his turns out. However, he can't evade a question, even one only half-spoken.

Crawling up onto the oak bar, the oddity shakes his head and tries to revert to a very old, very well-known pattern that had once been a beloved station.

"Yeu wahn-t thin-g? Eee....It...Rrrr-enne noh un-derrr-stahnd."

"Adrastos?" Renne could probably hear Stephen exhale, something close to a sigh. The Scientist knew the AI had hurt the critter, and it upset him. And he was torn between accepting something he didn't really want, and adding to the offense that had been tendered. "Maybe water, for now?"

He drummed his fingers on the bartop as he had so often done before at a place much like this. He could almost hear his best friend cracking a joke or flirting with a pretty girl, and derailed that particular train of thought before it could be pulled from his head.

"I know this doesn't forgive him, but I don't think Adrastos knew what he was doing. He's...very uneducated in the way of the world, and therefore he's full of questions. Some of which have no easy answers." Unspoken was the hope that Renne could forgive Adrastos; and the worry that Stephen's luck couldn't be that good.

"Eee...Rrrr-enne noh un-derrr-stahnd why it...Eee." How easy is it to put into words that familiar, well-known, well-experienced questions had actually bothered?

It's not all that easy to say nor is it easy to comprehend simply why these questions had... Better to concentrate on something he can actually do for now.
Although the slightest grain of disappointment flitters across his eyes, the oddity nods and fetches an ice-cold glass of water like he's been doing this for years. Well, he has and the skill hasn't been allowed to dull or grow forgotten. When he returns with it, the beastie pulls a very gentle "beginner's style" bar-slide with the full glass.

Then, he tries to find his words.

"Rrrr-enne noh thin-k it be him."

He accepted the glass with gratitude and a muttered "Thank you." It gave him something to do with his hands, and he took a sip in hopes it would take his mind off of other things.

"He, or his questions, were just a catalyst for something else?"

"Rrrr-enne noh kno-w. Rrrr-enne hearrrr wha-t he ahsk 'lots. It..."

It shouldn't sting by now. It really shouldn't but his voice stops, hesitating on saying that.

Stephen was quiet for a long moment, waiting for Renne to continue. When he didn't, the Scientist asked, "It shouldn't bother you, but it did this time?"

It wasn't a lucky guess. He'd heard enough that it was, for him, a logical conclusion, from the critter's demeanor and words.

"Eee."

Concise and to-the-point, his reply is but a chirp and a nod. An ear twitches as a bell in the kitchen rings. "Rrrr-enne be ba-ck."

And off the oddity scampers to tend to his bell. Of course, when he comes back out a few minutes later? He's got a smallish plate balanced on his head; said plate laden with a hot, very sweet treat. Treacle, perhaps?

The scent alone is like a gut-punch and brings back memories from when he was a little boy. Being the only child for a good span of years made his sisters' arrival something of a blow, and treacle? That had been one of the ways his mother had treated him. Stephen often thought it was a miracle that he hadn't ended up fat.

"Uh. I--" Willpower be damned, he really couldn't find it in himself to refuse. "Ah, thank you, Renne."

"Eee, Rrrr-enne sha-rrre." Chirp.

Hopefully no one minds a communal plate. Sliding it on the bar, the oddity finds (or "creates") one of the duller knives he'd often use and splits the treacle down the middle.

"Good. I definitely don't need to eat all of it," he said, chuckling. "So...do you want to talk about it at all? Not treacle...you know. I'm not trying to pressure you or anything, though."

He's aware he's pretty much a stranger still, but Stephen has found that sometimes it's easier to vent to a stranger than to a close friend.

"Eee. Ea-t." Chirp.

And then he pauses in mid-bite; both shoulders drooping down a bit. Even his ears go down. Still, the oddity finishes his bite and then at least tries to put the confusing, not-well-known sensations into words.

"Rrrr-enne noh un-derrr-stahnd why. Why it...hurrr-t naow. It noh ah-pose to."

"I'm not a psychologist. Or a xenopsychologist, for that matter. I don't know the particulars, either. But I know the human psyche--my own at least--to know that humans, at least, have a bad tendency to sabotage themselves." He took a bite of the treacle, and considered while he ate it.

"Maybe it's a sort of post-traumatic stress syndrome. I don't know." But it's not like he didn't understand. Stephen reached out to gently scratch one of Renne's ears.

"Eee. Rrrr-enne noh trrrus-t Sai-co-dist. Th-ey noh be strrron-g fohrrr Rrrr-enne." Chirp. His tone is just a wee bit derisive there, disdain held for the line of so-called "mind healers" that never stuck around for more than a week.

"Pose wha-t? Eee?"

"Post-traumatic stress syndrome. It's like...certain events damage a person so greatly they tend to relive them at times, or they can't disassociate themselves from it. I'm trying to put this very simply, now." But it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with the phenomenon.

"Mind you, I'm just guessing, here."

So far, Billy's day had been pretty eventful. Shift, training, healing, playing, second shift, and now he was ready for a rest.

His tired feet lead him to the sea-salty smell of the Sensoriums, and he found that this particular place was familiar. Renne's tavern. The other scents were Renne's food.

But where was his bright and bouncy Renne? Billy's second shift hadn't been all that long---what had happened during that time? Frowning, he called out into the tavern.

"Hello?"

"Eeee. Rrr-enne rrrre-mem-berrr Hew-mahns say tha-t. Bu-t...noh li-ke it. Th-ey say is ba-d." He trails off then, unsure of what else to really say.

"Eeee?"

That's about as dull a sound as you can get without going completely detached. With the last sound of sizzling in the kitchen dying down, the beastie emerges into the main room, then crawls up onto the bar. The expression on his face doesn't say too much but his eyes are half-closed.

He doesn't do that with his eyes.

"Renne."

Billy's tone of voice, by contrast, is full of emotion. Worry, sadness, and uncertainty mingle together. It's a massive effort to hold all of that feeling back from drowning Renne.

"What's happened?"

"Well. It's...difficult to classify, really. It's not good, because there's a risk of hurting yourself and others, and that's why humans think it's bad. It's not well understood, even in my time. And humans fear what they don't understand." Stephen sighed, then.

"You understand that something can be bad, and not make the person who has to deal with it, a bad person, right? I mean...even I have some post-traumatic stress disorder issues, myself." Swimming through zombie soup will do that to a person.

"Rrrr-enne..." Yes, he hesitates.

Frowning, the creature turns his head away, actually turns his back on the Human in a moment of...well, both stupidity on his own part and confusion. Confusion, perhaps a touch of fear. But yes. Stupidity's laden in there.

He's definitely frightened now. The imp's never turned his back on him before. What on earth could have triggered this reaction. Reaching out to ever so gently touch Renne's arm, he whispers:

"Please tell me what's bothering you. I promise that I won't use the knowledge to hurt you. You won't scare me away."

"Eee. Rrr-enne noh kno-w why. Rrrr-enne go-t bad thin-gs but..."

For a moment, the exchanges of less than an hour ago fly through his head loudly enough that no one need to try breaking into his head to hear it.
...not natural... The words echo like the bell of a long-forgotten monastery in the middle of nowhere. And with it, come flashing mirages of a memory. Something that only he and the fabric of space-Time itself were there for.

And Space-Time had rejected him.

"Why do it do tha-t?" His expression is completely deadpan now.

Only half-turning around, that deadpan expression is betrayed by the tone of his voice -- confused and bloody well clueless on too, too much. It doesn't quite ring in his head yet, part of what caused his strange emotions but the source exists.

"Do what?"

Billy is right there, quiet compassion bubbling just below the surface. He doesn't let go or move closer, but he waits patiently for Renne.

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