tapestodiane | 032 - action/audio

Entry tags:

032 - action/audio

Sometimes, being right isn't all that gratifying. In actuality, it can be devastating, especially if there's bad thing coming. Cooper wouldn't claim to have foreseen what would happen during those days; in fact, won't claim to be able to foresee anything. But he'd had a feeling, had been bracing himself, and yet he'd been completely unprepared for what happened and the things he saw.

"I don't know what to do", he tells his audio recorder (not Diane) later in the day, voice uncharacteristically choked. It's the simple truth in light of everything he can recall - actually recall, not just piece together, and that alone is worrying in a whole new way.

He's trying not to think about all that, not yet. And for the next few days he's still trying to clear his mind, even if his motions are distracted and his focus is shaky and his thoughts are stubborn and loud. Whatever is happening, it's escalating, but he feels powerless when it comes to stopping it or even figuring it out.

He wouldn't even assume he had the right question to ask, were he given the chance for an answer.

[Action for Justice Farm: When he wakes up the day he'd normally have been (mostly) mind-wiped, he's still exhausted. Most days will find him in the kitchen with his hands around a coffee cup and none of the usual enthusiasm for the beverage inside, staring distantly out the window with the look of someone who hasn't slept at all. It's a change from his usual demeanor, but whatever is going on in his mind, he doesn't seem all that inclined to share.]

[Audio, for the network, backdated to the 29th:] I'll keep it brief: who else can recall this weekend with a lot more clarity than the previous ones of its kind?

[Action for Saffron: He's around, so feel free to bump into him. He's been on quite a few walks lately. Walks are good.]

(KIND OF BACKDATED and spans all days from 4th wall end til like yesterday, so feel free to bump in with whatever, whenever!)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

_{[Well, that certainly hits a mark, and Cooper looks the part too when he finds that he's subconsciously holding his breath. He lets it out slowly, trying to gather his thoughts.]

[Albert doesn't know, he realizes, and that makes it a little harder to say. But he's also not in the same spot as he was when he told Carmen a few days earlier. Still, he won't deny that he lost someone, and even if he'd liked to Albert would have seen right through him anyway.]

[In the end he finds the real concern in his mouth, and voicing it lets the heavy feeling he's been fighting settle more firmly in his chest.]}

I think it might have been me.

[Doc Hayward once called him the most cold-blooded man he'd ever seen, and the fact of the matter is, that's not true. There's a difference between being cold-blooded and simply having priorities, just like there's a difference between seeing through Cooper and barging through the thin walls of security he's managed to hold around himself yet this time. It's not hard to follow the pattern of loss in Coop's life; he was like this with Caroline, and more recently in a far milder form with Carmen when she was gone running around the world and back again. It's not hard to guess that Cooper is drifting because he's missing someone else.

Of course, even Albert will admit he's not expecting the answer he gets.

The coffee machine goes silent and he seizes the opportunity to pour the two mugs full, extending the red one to Coop. Maybe it'll put a little spot of color in his gray and bleary mood.

Maybe Albert's getting sentimental in his concern.]

That explains not knowing where to start.

[He takes a prolonged drag on his coffee and finds himself wishing it were a cigarette.]

You might be the only one who can pull yourself out of that. But that doesn't mean you don't have a damn lot of people willing to help keep your head above water until you do.

_{[He takes the mug and wraps his hands around it the same way he'd held the other one before Albert came in. The warmth is welcome, as is the scent, but he doesn't drink it. And that's another little sign, too.]

[Still, he appreciates it. He appreciates people having his back and he appreciates being reminded. It's - touching, and he's quiet for a moment in the light of that reassurance. Or promise.]}

I trust you.

[He does. But he falters there. Cause that still doesn't change that he has no clue of where to begin and while he finds that he'd like to tell Albert about what happened, the sheer gravity of it is holding him back.]

[But then he finds something else to grasp at.]

The evil that men do, Albert. Do you remember?

You—

[He puts down the mug too fast, too hard. The clank of container on countertop is altogether too loud in the otherwise quiet, warm kitchen; a chip of white ceramic splinters off from the bottom rim and goes skittering across the floor. Thankfully, the seal hasn't punctured, or they'd have a mess — but Albert barely seems to notice.

The words resonate with chilling effect. The evil that men do. His attempt at a rational explanation for something he'd observed that no amount of rationale ever could.

And now it's back, and Cooper—]

Did you see—

[Him?]

_{[Cooper loses that slow demeanor when Albert reacts and moves a hand out in what's a weird middle ground between a reach for his friend and the stop sign he's so fond of in an attempt to communicate calm, or it's okay, or ... something.]

[It isn't okay, of course. But whether this is better or worse it's still not what Albert's thinking, and Coop shakes his head to show for that.]}

No, no, it wasn't- but I ...

_{[He almost forgot about the coffee cup in his other hand, but he saves it from tipping over and sets it down on the counter behind him, keeping eye contact as he does.]}

I think what I saw might have had something to do with him.

Damn.

[For a moment, he's the one disoriented, and a beat or two passes before he seems to fix his attention on the new chip in the cup, steadying himself as he prods the semi-sharp edge with his fingertip and regards the slight indentation it leaves in the pad of the print.

He shakes his head, repeating the word under his breath.]

You're thinking there's more than one of him?

No.

_{[It's surprisingly easy to answer, even if he doesn't realize just how much so until he's said it. He doesn't reflect further - it's just his gut response.]

[When he speaks again it's with a dark tone contending soft fear.]}

But I think there's more from where he came.

I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse.

[Because for all that he's hated Johto, loathed the lack of sense it makes, there were the occasional bits of bright spots that he could get used to. No dead girls on an autopsy table because no one ever died. No gunshot victims. No mangled corpses. No horrors like the ones they've gotten used to contending with every day in their careers.

It's funny, but only through a brand of humor that's black as midnight on a moonless night. If there's evil here, then suddenly this crazy mixed-up place is a little bit more like reality, after all.

But if there's evil here, then since when is that something to be glad about.]

The evil of this world finally rearing its ugly head? Or do you think it followed us in?

_{[He's silent for a second, then makes an attempt at taking charge of the situation. It's paler than usual, but it's there.]}

Do you remember I told you I'd seen you before you arrived? You and Gandhina. In a dream.

It's happened roughly every half year. Three days with only faint memories of what went on in them. Things both familiar and strange.

_{[Both good and bad. And they didn't stick around, which was, in some ways, reassuring. In others, well.]}

So far the things I've seen have only ever happened during those days. No one can explain it. Yes, I do think whatever evil I saw followed us.

_{[But ...]}

[He thinks a minute himself, mulling over what he's been told, comparing it to his own vague recollections of what happened over that very odd three days.]

This wasn't a dream. Not one of your dreams — I remember things, too. [A moment passes.] I saw Harry. Probably the same way you saw me.

[He retrieves his coffee and takes another long drink of it.]

You're thinking it's somewhere out there, and it's going to find its way in like I did. Find you like a damn magnet.

Truman? _{[He already assumes yes, but he also hung out briefly with Harry Mason (and his assassin), so he still asks.]} I saw him too.

_{[Strange, that, but nice in its own way. Their rapport was still the same.]}

I called it a dream because it was the easier explanation, but it wasn't untrue. At the time, that was the only way we could remember. Recollections in dreams. Now ... something changed.

_{[Which both sidesteps and answers Albert's assumption. He looks away briefly to retrieve the red mug behind him.]}

Yeah. He was wandering around.

[This being the first time he's ever experienced one of Those Events, he's got no basis upon which to comment; he'll have to take Coop's expertise for granted on this one. Not that that's ever a problem.]

Either way we're gonna have to figure out something to do about it.

_{[He finally takes a sip of that coffee before he answers. Might be stalling. Might be for a bit of strength.]}

Whatever is causing it has to be related to what's bringing people in.

_{[But that's also it. That's literally all he has to work with.]}

[He mulls over that a minute, musing, the same way he would any other evidentiary conundrum set before him. He's picked up stone-cold trails before. The lack of evidence on this one doesn't mean it's a hopeless case by any means.]

So we start watching who's coming in. Where they're from, how many, when they roll in. Everybody lands in the same damn town — maybe that's where we start looking.

[He pauses, leveling a quiet gaze at Coop.]

Some of us, anyway.

Not everyone.

_{[He doesn't acknowledge that show of protectiveness on Albert's end. Whether he didn't notice or just doesn't want to, hard to tell; but the facts are what he'll focus on, not his personal well-being.]

[At least they're not mutually exclusive, huh?]}

Up until maybe a year and a half ago, some people started in Mahogany.

Mahogany. [A moment of thought passes, as he checks his frame of reference.] That's where we took you when you came down with the scaly flu. That little backwater burg? Color me entirely unsurprised — whoever's running this show, they've got a thing for two-bit towns.

[Being occupied isn't a bad thing when it comes to despair. It's better than not focusing at all.]

Even better. Now we've got two places to start. A couple minutes ago we had none.

_{[It's a whole lot better, and it helps keep him calm.]}

I think they woke up in the Rocket Headquarters, but what Rocket activity there was in Mahogany moved elsewhere quite a while ago.

[He perks up a little at the thought, tapping his fingers against his mug as he ponders.]

So we look to see if it's still happening — people showing up in two different places. Does everybody start in the boondocks now, or is it half and half like it used to be, just that now it's someplace different? If your hunch is right and this place is divvying up innocents and villains on arrival, then it's doing half the job for us — just figure out who woke up someplace different, and there you've got your Rocket base.

If they wake up somewhere different to be taken up as Rockets, they're unlikely to tell us.

_{[Still, that is an idea. He frowns slightly but is thinking about it. It's moments like these he realizes just how much he appreciates having the few friends he has around - it's easy to get lost in dark places without them, even momentarily.]}

Not if they know that's why we're asking.

[Good. This is good. This is worlds above and beyond the Coop who was staring listlessly out of windows, unsure of what to do with his hands when his mug was taken away.]

But nobody says we have to tell them.

_{[There's a very sudden urge to yawn, but Coop doesn't give into it.]}

I could send a text out. See if there are any bites.

Couldn't hurt.

[If nothing else, it'll give him a different problem to dwell on than the one that's been haunting him lately. Maybe they'll see the dark clouds around his mood break yet.

He lets a beat pass.]

So what do we think of the Autumn Flavors, sunshine?

_{[Have a surprised look at that, Albert. Cooper is still for a moment like he has to think about it - clearly not processing quite yet - before he takes another sip of the coffee, like he hadn't actually felt the taste before now.]

[And THEN comes the verdict.]}

A bit bitter, but the flavors are balanced.

_{[He almost shrugs. Dale Cooper doesn't shrug, but what do you do.]}

It's not bad.

Guess we can keep it around, then.

[Another of life's little missions: accomplished.]

I'm willing to take "not bad" for right now.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

032 - action/audio

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;

action;