twelve ♢ video

[versusnurture]

Whoever's out there: I want to talk to you.

[And she does mean everyone. People she loved, people she hated, people who were meaningless to her, people whose names she never knew but who knew hers, the dead (by her hands or Garret's or Hannibal's - whoever is out there.]

[She's starved for information.]

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vidya foreva

[designates]

Yes. I am.

[ not someone he's ever seen before. no one he consciously remembers. but the mind has a funny way of working, of digging up subconscious recollections. ]

vidya foreva

[warisart]

[Ben is not someone Will has seen before: he's a straight-backed, straight-shouldered young man with very few physical ticks at all, and not among them is a variation in expressions. His face is difficult to read, his clipped and precise voice moreso, except for the very clear military influence.

If he moves around, eventually Will might spot what looks like a barcode tattoo on the back of his neck.]

My name is Ben. I have been assigned as the official advocate for Abigail Hobbs in our current environment. You are of considerable significance to her.

[designates]

[ funny thing, the mind, isn't it? making up these elaborate scenarios, drawing faces from the void and personalities from god only knows where else.

should he say it's a pleasure? because it isn't. should he say yes, I know? because that seems unnecessary. for all his empathy, he's pretty overwhelmingly terrible at the whole, y'know, social thing. ]

And what about her do you advocate, Ben? [ but sure, he'll go tit-for-tat: have fun trying to discern if he's angry, suspicious, or exhausted. (spoiler: it's all of the above.) ]

[warisart]

[If Will is terrible at being social, Ben is even moreso: this is his default state. Being social wasn't on the docket, and it comes through in everything he does. He was meant to be a weapon and nothing more.

Now he's a weapon for his friends. He doesn't try very hard to pick out what Will is feeling - he'll wait to be shown. Ben is patient.]

For her wellbeing, as best I can. Her safety, also as best I can. And her ability to choose where her life takes her from here. My function is to assist her in discerning her self from what others would have her be.

[designates]

[ too bad, so sad, Ben, because Will doesn't plan on sticking around this nightmare for very long. (though it's becoming pretty intricate, even for him. curious.)

he wants to ask what has she told you? but that's giving his strange dream hallucination more credit than he's comfortable with. he doesn't yet deserve that benefit of the doubt. ]

Hard to show a baby bird how to fly if it's already fallen from the nest and broken its wings.

[warisart]

[Ben has learned that often, it doesn't matter what one plans. The details have a way of rising to the surface if one knows how to look for them.

Like Will's analogy: while realistic, also dismissive. Also hopeful. Not "already fallen from the nest and broken its neck." Only its wings, which can heal, which can function. Not likely, but possible. Hard, but not out of the question. He neither agrees or disagrees.]

Perhaps. Is that how you see her? A baby bird with broken wings?

[designates]

No. [ she's the baby worm impaled and writhing on the end of a fishing hook. but he doesn't say that. because he doesn't know Ben, and while it's clear this man cares for Abigail, and while Will may resent Abigail, he owes her this much. if she hasn't already made her situation clear to the other man. to this hallucination. good god, he's reasoning through the ethics of interacting with his own subconscious.

he sticks to it anyway. ] I see her as Abigail. Just... Abigail.

[warisart]

[She has told him, but Ben is someone who cross checks and cross checks again until he has the most distilled facts possible; each thread woven into the narrative makes the resulting pattern stronger, easier to discern.

It is, perhaps, even more vital considering how interesting his answer is with regards to this particular girl. Abigail does not even see herself as Abigail. How can this man?]

And who is Abigail to you?

[deadly_ned]

Will Graham?


Sorry to, um. Interrupt. My name is Ned.

I'm...sort of a friend of Abigail's.

[designates]

Ned.

[ amongst all the reactions, he's noting one thing: they don't seem to resent him. maybe they're wary of him. but they don't hate him. why would they bother with courtesy? whatever construction his mind's made up of Abigail, it doesn't hate him outright.

huh. ]

She's told you about me. [ ssssort of a question, though more of a what has she told you rather than has she told you. ]

[deadly_ned]

Not in...so many words. Alana mentioned your name.

[The Piemaker is polite, but...awkward and distant. Not because of Will. Because of himself. Behind him, Digby the golden retriever wags his tail happily]

I met Winston.

This is Digby. He's. My dog. Digby and Winston are friends.

[designates]

Alana. [ part of him wants to ask is she here can I talk to her but he's pretty sure he doesn't want to dredge up effigies of his failures, his disappoints, for a casual conversation. anyway, there's the glimpse of dogs here and god it's been months since he's gotten to see a dog. ]

He's a great dog. I can tell. [ a small smile and this time, he means it: ] I'm sure Winston likes him a lot.

[deadly_ned]

Yes.

[Digby in turn looks to Will, innately sensing a fellow Dog Person. He wags his tail, but slowly: he's quite an old dog]

Thanks. They seem to get along.


Is there, um.

Is there anything I can do for you? For them. On this side.