keeps_a_cool_head | Log 0015

Log 0015 - [Voice]

It is with considerable disappointment that I report the departure of Hiziki Gard.

A word to the Admiral: make certain the next warden you assign me is sustainable. Inconsistencies and lapses are a sign of disorganization within your operations.

[Private to Catra]

I trust you've recovered from your ordeal.

[Private to the Boy, Mira]

The Chair is ready for its initial testing.

[Spam for Crichton]

[Now unpaired, Scorpius feels at liberty to test a few less-than-savory parts of his growing arsenal in the battle for John's mind. He waits patiently in the hallway towards Crichton's room, working diligently on Francis' crossword puzzle. Most of the human references escape him, but he's been doing research. Slowly but surely he'll understand this perplexing species that overwhelms the Barge in sheer number]

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[He plants his hands on his hips and cocks his head curiously at Scorpius.]

'She's all that.' S H E S. I saw the previews for it before I launched. Looked like crap to me; probably wouldn't have seen it anyway.

[Wow, cue sudden stab of home sickness. How long ago was that now?]

I was going to my room, but I'd like to know what you are really doing hanging out over here. I'm sure it's not just to quiz me on crossword answers.

[He studiously records the answer in the appropriate spot, before setting his pencil down in his non-dominant hand.]

It was not. I suppose you've heard by now that my warden has left.

I heard. I'm sure you're all broken up about it.

I regret the missed opportunity, but he is..replaceable. I will graduate with any warden regardless of how much time it may take.

[He steps to the side and away from Crichton, in order to give him access to his bedroom door. That John would have to move close by him in order to enter is not a fact that should be overlooked.]

That still doesn't tell me why you came all the way over here to wait at my doorstep.

[Crichton doesn't budge. He's not about to open his door with Scorpius standing this near. That would be practically inviting him in.]

No.

May we talk privately, John? I wish to discuss our mutual..friend in a place we cannot be overheard.

I'm guessing you mean Catra.

If you think I'm going to let you in my room you can just think again. You wanna talk? We can go down the hall to the common room. Or, you can get the hell outta my face and call me. Those are your two choices.

[Scorpius doesn't mean Catra, but makes a mental note to address her at a later date with Crichton. He has a mission taking slightly more importance this time around.]

The common room, then.

[And his hand tightens around the hidden syringe, turning around and listening for Crichton to follow]

Fine. After you.

[Crichton waits for Scorpius to turn and start walking, then he falls reluctantly into step behind him. He's still wary of this, but he doesn't in any way suspect Scorpius' true intentions. Discussing the recent incident with Catra seemed the most immediate issue in his mind anyway, beyond Gard leaving the Barge.]

[He does, leading Crichton down the hall. Scorpius walks the length of two doors, watching for any sign of observers. If he's caught, he'll need to try again later and he'd much rather forego his plan for the time being than risk having his toys removed from his cabin. Crichton is getting harder to pin down by himself as he becomes more paranoid.

Two doors are passed: no observers. Rolling the syringe into his hand, he twists around to face the human and plunges the needle as quick as he can to the space where he judges Crichton's defenseless neck to be]

[Crichton takes a startled step back when Scorpius turns to face him, but he has no time to defend against the sharp tipped threat he never knew existed. Scorpius finds his mark in Crichton's neck.

The burning prick of the needle gives way quickly to the cold feeling of that unknown drug flowing into him. Crichton's hand flies up to the wound as he feels the metal slide back out of his neck, its mission completed. With his hand still pressed to the side of his neck, Crichton stares, dumbfounded, at Scorpius until seconds later shock gives way to fear and anger.]

What was in that?! What the hell did you just do?! GODDAMMIT SCORPIUS!

[Scorpius discards the needle, letting it drop to the ground. He can always retrieve it later; right now, Crichton's health is paramount. He's not exactly certain on what the drugs may do, having never had the opportunity to test on a human before. Lack of subjects breeds caution in him: he drives forward, putting one hand over Crichton's to steady his neck, the other grasping the man's upper arm in a tight grip. It's both to prevent escape as well as ensure that if the human falls, he won't concuss himself on the way down.

He locks eyes, voice reassuring and calm]

Easy, John: the symptoms should appear momentarily. I would focus on breathing, if I were you.

This won't kill you. But it will cause you to undergo a significant seizure. Focus on relaxing your muscles: tension will make it worse.

[Crichton staggers sideways and is caught in Scorpius' grasp. Already his vision is blurring, and the long hallway feels like it's sliding off kilter under him. Panic is tightening his chest and shortening his breaths. Scorpius words, however soothingly they are spoken, do not help this.]

A seizure?!

[Breathe he says?! Relax?! How the hell is he supposed to stay calm when he's been drugged into having a potentially life threatening lapse of brain function?!]

Are you insane?!

[He can feel it starting: pain in his head, and numbness tingling up his right side. He feels dizzy and suddenly the lights in the hall are too bright for him to take. Reluctantly he closes his eyes, but it only makes the dizziness worse. He's helpless, effectively blinded and now reliant on Scorpius' support to keep him standing.

He's also painfully aware that Scorpius is right, if he doesn't get his breathing under control he will hyperventilate himself into unconsciousness, assuming the seizure doesn't knock him out first.]

[Though he has the upper hand now, Scorpius' attention is razor-focused on Crichton's vitals. He watches his eyes shift rapidly under his eyelids, and begins to gently but firmly guide John back to his room. A hand is kept on the human's neck in order to facilitate monitoring and support, but Scorpius is moving quickly: both to avoid detection as well as to get Crichton to a bed before he collapses entirely]

It will not last long, and you should emerge from it...relatively intact.

Relax, John. This will all be over soon.

[He manages, after fishing for Crichton's key, to get the door to his cabin open. There, Scorpius begins the laborious process of dragging a man as heavy as himself to the bed.]

Edited 2014-06-02 23:41 (UTC)

[Crichton stumbles clumsily along, guided by Scorpius back towards his own room. A quick, but painful glance, shows him that. Looks like Scorpius is getting a tour of his place after all, not that he's in any condition to argue against it now. It's all happening so fast now, or at least that's how it seems to him.]

Don'... 'ell me... to relax.... you ...son o' a BITCH!

[No, he's losing this fight. His tingling knees are starting to buckle, but at the same time his back is going stiff. A tremor's begun to shake him. It's nothing like the classic full body spasms of a Grand Mal seizure, thank god, just random twitching at the corners of his mouth and eyes, in his fingers and oddly his thighs. When Scorpius finally hauls him to the bed he flops down on it bonelessly, and lies there shivering and twitching, still desperately fighting to stay awake.]

[The room doesn't interest him at the moment: perhaps later, if he gets the opportunity, Scorpius will take the time to go over the personal effects and wonder at their relationship to John Crichton.

For now, he kneels beside the bed, grasping Crichton's chin in one gloved hand and seizing his hair in the other, in order to hold his head still. The slight possibility that Crichton may bite off his own tongue is still apparent. But he doesn't bother to pin down limbs: John is helpless to the whims of the drugs making their way through his bloodstream.]

Further injury is something neither of us wants, I assure you.

You will begin to lose understanding and awareness, but I would urge you not to fight against it. You won't win.

[Crichton's eyes flutter open to glare heavy lidded at Scorpius, but then they roll back and he lets out a hissing breath between clenched teeth. It's all the indication Scorpius will get that Crichton has heard or understood what's been said. Crichton wants to fight. He wants to fight Scorpius, and the drugs and this sick rising of nausea growing steadily in his gut, but he just can't anymore...

Tense minutes pass.

He tries to roll his head to the side, but it's caught in Scorpius' hands. He's forgotten what's happening and why his head needs to be held, or even who could be doing it. There's a moment of dazed confusion, he opens his eyes again, sees Scorpius and cries out. Then he remembers, and he becomes terrified to know that he'd forgotten. Only, he's forgotten again. His awareness, it's slipping like water through his fingers. He can't catch enough to drink. All that's left now is the terror without the understanding of why. His head is killing him. He feels so sick. He feels he may pass out. He wishes he would. He just wants it to stop, whatever it is.

He's so scared.]

[Scorpius continues to kneel by Crichton's side as the long minutes pass, waiting with tense, baited breath and keeping a close watch to make sure the man he's holding down doesn't seize up and vomit. Under his fingers, Crichton's Adam's apple juts up and down in slow-moving panic, and he takes a brief second to turn the other's head towards him. This is, he feels, the only way towards getting what he wants, but he also wants Crichton to understand how it feels to be at the mercy of one's own body: to be trapped in a truly inescapable prison, even for a few moments.

He sees the fear, and is satisfied. Crichton's pulse is jackrabbit-fast, and as he sinks deeper, Scorpius' grip increases in strength. Maybe in some parts it acts as an anchor to keep him trapped in the ever-expanding horizon of consciousness, but in other parts it's an affirmation of how helpless he can make Crichton feel.

The seizures are only building in strength, and he's paved the way for the twin in Crichton's head to take the opportunity and speak for itself. Even in the grasp of a poisonous fit, Crichton is obviously still fighting to hang on. It's one of the traits Scorpius admires about him, but at the moment it's growing irritating. So he leans forward, whispering in John's ear; ]

Come out.

[Crichton takes in another hitching breath, but on the exhale his expression relaxes by a few degrees into something more neutral, if still pained. When those eyes open again they are still unfocused, but they now look coldly on the face of the man that holds him. It is Harvey looking, not Crichton, but he too is displeased by this attack.]

I...trust…

[It’s apparent speaking is taking some not insignificant amount of effort. He has to fight against the twitches still pulling at Crichton and his shared lips in order to form the words. The light burns his eyes just as intensely, though he can withstand it enough to keep eye contact now.]

...that...you have...a good...reason…

[He doesn't manage to finish that sentence, because his jaw suddenly locks up again. He can only fight the symptoms so well, and communication in this method is nearly a wasted effort as a result. This, he feels, should now be readily apparent to his creator and former master.]

[The change in John is blatantly obvious: Scorpius knows himself inside and out. He can spot the differences of the two in the same body a mile away. While Crichton never looked on him with any sort of kindness, the hard stare that replaces his gaze is very clearly not him - it's calculating, and quietly furious.]

Hello.

[Scorpius releases his grip on Crichton's jaw but continues to hold his head steady, tilting it so that he can look into the other's eyes]

I understand you prefer to be addressed as Harvey. You needn't put in so much effort to speak: the effects of the seizure will wane soon.

I should like to know your plans for John Crichton.

[His lips pull back in a grimace. No, he does not prefer to be called Harvey; it is only Crichton who prefers to call him that. He understands the Human's need for the distinction, of course. Crichton in particular places great value in the naming of things and people, so he grudgingly accepts the moniker as a necessary part of their relationship. He will accept it here as well, given he has not the capacity to argue it. There are more pressing matters.

As the minutes drag on, the worst of the symptoms, the twitching, stiffness and pain come to their climax. Now, they subside rapidly. There is still the dizziness, and the ache in his head, but his breathing is normalizing and the tick in his mouth has relented. Finally he trusts himself to speak unhindered.

The first thing he does is laugh.]

Of course you would.

Edited 2014-06-03 17:02 (UTC)

[Scorpius is patient, and can wait out the long minutes before Harvey is capable of speaking. His free hand monitors John's heartbeat and breathing with care, as he waits for the tics to end.

Though he's patient, the laughter is greeted with a distinct lack of amusement.]

I will remind you that you are a byproduct, and not the active party in this discussion. While I admire your desire for autonomy, I don't wish for it to conflict with my own plans.

[The shallow look of amusement drops off of Crichton's face instantly.]

You haven't determined yet if it will be more beneficial to kill me to gain John's trust, or bargain with me to advance your plans. What are those plans Scorpius? Will you graduate, return and claim the chip and it's information and proceed as planned from there on?

Of course. Unless a better option presents itself.

I may need John's trust in the future. Why do I need you?

Are you certain the information you seek is in the chip?

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