( it's not so much john but the Eye that responds in kind.
it is subdued in this place, its grasp on its avatar and Archivist diluted and tenuous (not so much as the tunnels beneath the Institute, but damn close), but it is still aware enough to sense the presence of something like to itself. bondrewd's gaze intensifies on john like a beam of energy intensifying through a focusing lens, and it multiplies — the Eye does so on a sort of thoughtless instinct, resonating. this time, it doesn't even use its Archivist's eyes. no, those are still occasionally drawn towards the vision of the girl, distracted and still bafflingly human despite it all. instead, the Eye unintentionally flexes its possession over its own domain. though they might not literally, the empathetic impression of every single eye in the chamber around them being drawn as if by magnetic pull towards them to stare, unblinking, is enforced in a deafening chorus over their Communion. the real and biological eyes, yes, but also those either functional or symbolic — every lens, every optic, and every one of the eye-like whorls patterned in the patches of rough bark that have spread across john's skin. this has always been the Eye's method of near-omniscience in the worlds that is has played voyeur over: through anything that might resemble it, be it literal, functional, or symbolic, it can see and amass knowledge.
it has nothing to communicate besides its presence, its acknowledgement. it is not the type of entity that can offer much more, knowing nothing more than itself, the moment exists in, and what it hungers for — simple, foolish, profound.
john's attention doesn't return to bondrewd until he continues, looking up with something like shock (wounded shock?) as he does so. )Meridian?( something icy and familiar begins to creep along his spine: fear feels more familiar, more right there than anything else, regardless of how much it makes his stomach churn. it's not what bondrewd pledges to do. connected as intimately as they are by Communion in this state of mutual confession, he knows that the man doesn't lie. he knows that he truly means it, even though opposition springs to his tongue before he can even fully think it through. they all leave him as a condensed stream of consciousness, bereft of the order of spoken or written word: )
But - But you going to them now, it could aid them in reclaiming the Oracle — we would be one step behind in this struggle, we could very well lose it all, so what would your promise mean then?
( it's a real fear, one that lives so far on the horizon that no eye can see it, and least of all the Eye, ignorant of the concept of the future as it is.
but it belies another one, far more present. it lives and thrills within his heart now as a bird fluttering in vain within its cage, because he can sense more movement in the roots which bind bondrewd and the Oracle than just those that creak and groan with his impetus to reach out and put a hand to his face. they move in the earth around him, encircling him, and he can't — he can't move a muscle —
sorrow and the bitter sting of failure mix with a flood of dread as he's beset by memory, almost paralyzed as he is forced to recall his time spent in the Crushing Dark — )
I've... failed to reach you.
( please forgive him, bondrewd — he is still fresh on his path to Otherness, still shackled and weighed down by the burden of short-sighted humanity. )
cw eyes eyes eyes
it is subdued in this place, its grasp on its avatar and Archivist diluted and tenuous (not so much as the tunnels beneath the Institute, but damn close), but it is still aware enough to sense the presence of something like to itself. bondrewd's gaze intensifies on john like a beam of energy intensifying through a focusing lens, and it multiplies — the Eye does so on a sort of thoughtless instinct, resonating. this time, it doesn't even use its Archivist's eyes. no, those are still occasionally drawn towards the vision of the girl, distracted and still bafflingly human despite it all. instead, the Eye unintentionally flexes its possession over its own domain. though they might not literally, the empathetic impression of every single eye in the chamber around them being drawn as if by magnetic pull towards them to stare, unblinking, is enforced in a deafening chorus over their Communion. the real and biological eyes, yes, but also those either functional or symbolic — every lens, every optic, and every one of the eye-like whorls patterned in the patches of rough bark that have spread across john's skin. this has always been the Eye's method of near-omniscience in the worlds that is has played voyeur over: through anything that might resemble it, be it literal, functional, or symbolic, it can see and amass knowledge.
it has nothing to communicate besides its presence, its acknowledgement. it is not the type of entity that can offer much more, knowing nothing more than itself, the moment exists in, and what it hungers for — simple, foolish, profound.
john's attention doesn't return to bondrewd until he continues, looking up with something like shock (wounded shock?) as he does so. ) Meridian? ( something icy and familiar begins to creep along his spine: fear feels more familiar, more right there than anything else, regardless of how much it makes his stomach churn. it's not what bondrewd pledges to do. connected as intimately as they are by Communion in this state of mutual confession, he knows that the man doesn't lie. he knows that he truly means it, even though opposition springs to his tongue before he can even fully think it through. they all leave him as a condensed stream of consciousness, bereft of the order of spoken or written word: )
But - But you going to them now, it could aid them in reclaiming the Oracle — we would be one step behind in this struggle, we could very well lose it all, so what would your promise mean then?
( it's a real fear, one that lives so far on the horizon that no eye can see it, and least of all the Eye, ignorant of the concept of the future as it is.
but it belies another one, far more present. it lives and thrills within his heart now as a bird fluttering in vain within its cage, because he can sense more movement in the roots which bind bondrewd and the Oracle than just those that creak and groan with his impetus to reach out and put a hand to his face. they move in the earth around him, encircling him, and he can't — he can't move a muscle —
sorrow and the bitter sting of failure mix with a flood of dread as he's beset by memory, almost paralyzed as he is forced to recall his time spent in the Crushing Dark — )
I've... failed to reach you.
( please forgive him, bondrewd — he is still fresh on his path to Otherness, still shackled and weighed down by the burden of short-sighted humanity. )