towerofanimus | First Contact

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First Contact

Characters: Rick and Feferi to start; if you want to thread running into him after the fact, that's also fine! Just do the new subject thing. In 1-16, Rick and his assortment of roommates (the ones that aren't actively avoiding the scary writing above them that is).
Setting: Dorms, floor one, on July 2nd
Format: Prose to start, can match!
Summary: Rick is terrified of everything! General newbie investigations. Also getting the blood off the ceiling, what a pain am I right
Warnings: Moping and copious indecision?

Terminal Shenanigans [CLOSED]

The dormitories were probably not the largest floors in this tower, but they were certainly big enough that a brisk circuit down the corridors had left Rick winded. Granted, he'd be hard-pressed to be even more uncomfortable than he already was. His immediate surroundings weren't so unusual--rather like a strangely futuristic college hall--but the circumstances and the note, and the backlog of recent terminal posts that he skimmed through, all bode ill for Rick's future.

Of course, it wasn't worth getting ahead of himself here. Rick's brief discussion with Feferi promised more raw information than any amount of frantic speculation could buy him--and perhaps even a moment of solace, if she was as friendly as her posts suggested. As Rick rounded the corner and got a glimpse within the alcove of the terminal, however, he was reminded of that other problem. The one where Feferi was definitely not human, and Rick convinced himself that she was, and now it turns out she actually is some kind of horned fish-person and he really is not ready for that in the slightest?

If Feferi hadn't heard him approaching, the only indication that there was even someone standing several feet behind her would be the sound of halting stutters, as Rick tried (and failed) multiple times to address her.

Retreat to Room 1-16 [OPEN TO ROOMIES]

With all of the strange interactions on and around the terminals, Rick had nearly forgotten what had driven him out of his starting room to begin with. When he returned there, intent on having a nice lie-down in one of the mysterious four corner-beds, he got a good, long glimpse at the blood-covered ceiling and remembered, at which point he turned heel and walked back out of the room.

Rick pressed his back against the door and took several long, deep breaths, kneading his temples. As many times as his other predatory forms hunted and ate uncooked prey animals, he still could never get used to the sight of blood. Although they didn't typically dip their paws in it and write "MONSTER" over and over again near the source puddle, Rick had to remind himself. That aspect certainly was not helping matters. But this was also where he would be staying--that's what the note had said, and the people he had talked to seemed to place some base credit in its various statements of tower life--and where three other people would be staying with him. They probably didn't want to see that stuff as desperately as he did. Perhaps, if he got rid of it, they would come back and be on good terms with him for cleaning things up.

Or it would make for a convenient distraction, at any rate. Rick gathered his nerves, a pair of socks from his trunk, and some soap, and set diligently to work.

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[Feferi waved a hello as she approached. She's recognizable enough, and entirely unarmed.]

Rick, right? I'm Feferi. It's nice to meet you!

[KEEP IT TOGETHER MAN]

...Y-Y-You're...Fef-Feferi?

[Of course she's Feferi, she just said so! Dumb, stupid, dumb--]

--I-I mean--yes. H-Hello.

[He pauses, arms crossed, awkwardly scratching the base of his neck. Then he realizes that this is not the best way to introduce himself, so he abruptly pulls away his arm and extends it for a handshake.]

[...Do aliens even know what a handshake is? Great--how else could he screw this up?]

[Don't worry, she does. She reaches out and shakes his hand.]

It's nice to meet you! Don't be afraid, okay? I pike -- like -- meeting new people!

[She glubs a little. She can't quite control it.]

[This was possibly the weirdest thing Rick had ever gone through--this, coming from a man that absorbed the souls of and later transformed into other creatures. But at least they were...terrestrial.]

[Speaking of which, did she just make a fish pun?]

You--you, um-- [Too busy staring at her horns and gills and other such bizarre features, Rick realizes that he's not let go of Feferi's hand, which he does now, accompanied by an intense blush.] --okay. I-I'll try n-not to be.

[The way he smiles at the ground says that he's not making any promises, though.]

[Awkward silence follows.]

[Then Rick snaps back into action.] --Oh! Um...thanks.

[ Pacing. Pacing is good, even if he'd rather describe it as 'rounding' or something similarly productive. At any rate, that's what Raven finds himself doing after having spent enough time on the network for the day, and it's as he rounds the corner that he notices Rick reenter 1-16.

...--ah, right. There was a new name on the screen, wasn't there?

He doesn't think to connect 'Patrick' to 'Rick' just yet, considering it's a relatively normal name, but he does carefully compose himself and blank his expression as he makes to follow his apparent new roommate back into their shared room.

And stops, taking a moment to absorb the sight (and curb his reaction to the half-erased words on the ceiling). ]

You... didn't need to do that.

[ It's neither reproachful nor chiding, just. Sort of blankly stated. ]

[The scrubbing has done its two jobs by now--the blood was starting to come off at a good rate, and Rick had successfully cleared his mind and calmed himself to a degree where having someone enter the room did not make his heart jump out of his throat. But for Rick, even expected interaction is traumatic enough. He freezes, standing barefoot on top of one of the beds, mid-scrub, and slowly peeks over his shoulder.]

[Who is this? Unlike with Feferi, Rick didn't have the benefit of seeing Raven's face over the network--nor had he played around with the network ID system to connect that number with one of the names outside their door. This is a stranger, he knows, a roommate likely, but which one?]

...

[It doesn't matter! Rick is still too nervous to do anything other than make stuttering noises and blush. He even goes to scratch his neck, but he's wearing a bloody sock on his hand and he has to abort the action.]

[After much deliberation, he settles with a deep breath, a small smile, and a shrug, and prepares to get back to work.]

[She smiles gently in response - her teeth are awfully shark-like, so her mouth's closed.]

Don't worry about it! Reely, things are fine. It's safe around here right now, so you don't need to worry about anyfin.

[Fish puns. Yep.]

Anemoneway - oh glub, I'm fish punning, aren't I?

[She has to laugh at herself.]

- you wanted to know more about this plaice? I can tell you right now, talk to people who have green accents on.

[Feferi points to the flower she wears in her hair - the leaves are more visible than the flower.]

Green stands for the one tower administrator that was on our side. He died, but some of us act for him. We wear green to symbolize that. Call us Pandora.

[Oh man so many fish puns. Rick is starting to wonder if that's just something Feferi does, or if it's a quirk of her species that others have been bringing to her attention. He decides that now isn't the best time to ask about her culture, maybe.]

[He notes the flower with a small nod; then he chuckles to himself and outlines his shirt with his hands. Rick changed into his normal attire as soon as he found it in his trunk, which included an olive green sweater.]

Heh...I guess I'll have to f-find another shirt? [He pauses to think over the many ways that comment could be misinterpreted, but when he tries to correct himself his words stick in his throat, so he abandons that train of thought with a shrug and a quick scratch at his collar.]

Wh-what did he do?

[ Oh, well, now this is all sorts of awkward. Does 'Patrick' not speak? Certainly rather skittish, which has the beginnings of a flicker of guilt curling in his gut, as Raven hadn't meant anything of the sort and for all he knew his new roommate could've startled himself off the bed (that's... his bed, isn't it? Not Ion's, right...) and into injury, or something equally ridiculous.

Raven blinks slowly. Once. Twice. Again.

—Before remembering that yes, he's probably supposed to respond in some aspect, and so tersely nods his head in response to that smile still with the same blank non-expression. Though the stare of gold-ringed eyes might've gotten to be a little unsettling in the meantime.

His next immediate action is to stride over to and kneel down in front of the trunk at the foot of his bed, unlatching and opening the case just enough to be able to rummage through what sounds to be a bunch of fabric and loose material. If Rick's paying attention, he might catch a flash of light playing off the metal of Raven's left hand, which he doesn't seem to be using as much as his right in favor of leaving it in the shadows— as much as he can, anyway.

When he stands up again, it's to offer the other man some cloth bandage strips with his right hand. It's accompanied by a cough to both clear his throat and draw back the other man's attention if he'd already returned to his task. Maybe those socks might be salvageable, but, well, no need to ruin them unnecessarily. ]

[Well if the bed isn't Raven's, then by process of elimination it would be Ion's, seeing as the third is unoccupied and Rick had nothing to do with the blood writing's origins. Hopefully neither one of them minds Rick's bare feet on their sheets.]

[He is thoroughly engaged in cleaning again when he hears Raven going through a trunk. Rick is naturally curious, but he's also under the impression that staring is not especially polite, so he pretends not to notice. That is, until he's offered the cloth strips. Rick abruptly stops and once again peeks over his shoulder.]

[His round blue eyes first settle on the rags held in front of him. Then they flicker up to meet the more unsettling irises of the fellow propositioning them. The slight lift of his eyebrows in the second that he can maintain eye-contact seems to ask, "For me?" And then he loses his nerve and regards the rags more closely.]

[Some awkwardly silent double-takes later, Rick slowly reaches out to accept the gift]

...T-Thank you.

[ The response is prompt, and a tad wry: ] Think nothing of it.

I can get more from the infirmary, anyway. [ He adds, after a moment.

And then there's another awkward stretch of silence. It's not like the blonde is obligated to clean up a mess that isn't his, and it's Raven's own fault the unsightly... sight is (still) up there in the first place... ]

You... had to wake up to that, didn't you?

Sorry.

[ Things that might be useful to know about Raven: if he gets the chance to, he can and will blame himself for everything. ]

[Rick gives a small smile and a light chuckle of good humor as he commandeers the rags. He would ask about the infirmary, but he's far too focused on social interaction to worry about such trivial things as where he'd go if he were egregiously injured. Maybe later.]

[He resumes cleaning. Scrub scrub...]

[...Oh, a question? No--an apology. Now that simply wouldn't do, because Rick can and will--oh this is going to get out of hand very quickly.]

W-What? No, no it's okay! [He's becomes very insistent--bold, even, though it's more like nervous babbling--holding out his hands full of bloody, soapy rags with gentle easing motions.] Someone has t-to do it, yeah?...A-anyway, I've been told th-that stuff like--like this--[More gesturing, towards the ceiling this time.]--isn't, um--isn't what I should worry about here.

The morning before, when Ion had woken up to the bloody messages scrawled across the ceiling above his (and his roommate's) bed, he had been quick to evacuate the premises. Well, more accurate he had been dragged away by Anise in order to protect what little composure he still possessed. He hadn't returned...potentially a mistake. Not having slept in his bed the night before had exhausted him, aggravated his already delicate physical condition. Of course, Ion couldn't help but feel somewhat, in the back of his mind, that being mentally and physically exhausted was nothing more than he deserved.

Regardless of what Anise or anyone else had said, after all, he had still been a monster. It had still been his abilities that had caused so much pain to so many innocent residents of the Tower. Nobody deserved to feel the way he had made them feel, even if it had been outside of his will or control.

In any case, Ion couldn't run forever, and he wanted to rest in a bed that belonged to him. He takes a breath and steels himself as he approaches his dorm, only to hesitate in surprise at the (apparently new) roommate busying himself with scrubbing down the very blood that had been distressing him.

The boy's hesitation only lasts for an instant. Guiltily, he hurries forward to lend a hand. "I...I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to do that." Ion holds out a hand for the wet, soapy, blood-stained cloth the man is using and gives as warm (albeit strained and albeit tired) smile as he can manage.

"Please, let me. It's my mess so it's only fair for me to clean it."

Rick had been at his impromptu job for some time now and was finally starting to feel like he'd made good progress. Standing on the other bed, face set in serious contemplation of the red suds overhead, his mind was pleasantly blank and soothed with a task soon to be well-done.

Rather suddenly, hurried footsteps from behind pulled Rick from his trance. Was this his first roommate coming back for something urgent? Someone else coming to warn him of the tower's infamously unpleasant experiments (which he had no idea what that would entail, but he knew it would be worthy of warning)? Rick pivoted around to face whoever it was with wide, questioning eyes--

--and was very surprised to see a young--alarmingly young--fellow standing there, apologizing for the mess. How...why would the administrators take a kid to a place like this? A teenager, granted, but...

The shock of this revelation (and being addressed in general) was enough to keep Rick from replying coherently. Brow furrowed, mouth set in a confused frown, the best he could manage was a slight, impulsive shake of the head.

Someone... does, yes. But it didn't have to be you, is what I meant. You shouldn't be obliged, and it probably should have been me since it's my actions that are responsible for it being there in the first place. [ because that's a pleasant thing to say or have to explain in the case that someone presses harder. ]

Still, whoever told you that was correct, I suppose... There are more things to be concerned about than the odd unsettling sight without context. [ It's only bothering him so much because of why it's there; normally he's not in the least phased by the sight of blood or messages written in them. ] Perhaps it was better that they'd left again... [ He murmurs quietly, distractedly, under his breath. It obviously isn't something he'd expect others to be able to hear, at least.

Distractions, distractions from that train of thought— ]

How much have you been told already, then?

[Amazingly, Rick stops cleaning; not because of Raven's persistence, but because it's not providing the same level of distraction that it has been. He slumps back-first into the wall, still standing on the bed, and sighs deeply at no one in particular.]

[He wants to ask what this guy did to make the blood happen, but every logical synapse in his brain screams that this isn't his place. He'll leave it alone for the sake of good taste. Whatever the case, he's not giving up the rags.]

...Enough, I think. The note, the--[Rick waves his soapy hands in circles as he conjures the correct word.]--c-c-computers, kind of, and um, F-Feferi...b-b-between them, I know...

[More hand-waving. Rick seems rather flustered at his inability to sum up all the information that Raven is requesting. He gives up eventually with a befuddled frown.]

...a lot. T-T-Too much, even.

Ion's face turns down in an (unintentional) pout, his shoulders drooping at the apparent reluctance he's greeted with. The stranger must have resented him for the mess. It was only natural. The poor man had been going about doing all this work, and so soon after having arrived.

"It's not fair for you to have to do it," the boy says in his soft tones, eyes sweeping the ground. "At least let me help you finish...please, I want to."

Of course, back in Auldrant, if he had offered to help with such a thing he would have been vehemently denied. It wouldn't be proper for a Fon Master to do chores like a common worker. That fact hardly deterred him, however. As much as Ion hated to see the declaration of "MONSTER", hated to even go near it...he hated the idea of someone else paying for his sins even more. It wouldn't be right to just turn a blind eye to all of this.

And besides...a small part of him wondered if it wouldn't help him to scrape away the blood. If the action wouldn't be some sort of symbolic part of the healing process. When Ion brings his eyes back up to face his new roommate once again, they're wide in their imploring nature.

Rick's mind was made as soon as he noticed he was causing Ion distress. He'd only wanted to do something nice for his roommates--which he'd decided this kid was one of them, based on his insistence--but that was with the intent of making them happy, not distraught, as he seemed to be doing.

Desperate to set things right again, Rick stammered a string of apologies and, just as awkwardly as it sounds, offered Ion a damp, not-yet-blood-soaked rag, adding in a hesitant murmur, "Y-Y-You shouldn't have to..."

When he holds out one of the rags, Ion finally smiles. Yes, it's a sad smile and a tired smile...but he looks relieved, at least slightly. "No one should have to," he replies matter-of-factly as his hands close around the damp cloth. "If only we were afforded any such luxury, here."

It wasn't right to be so morbid to someone he had only just met, but Ion had been a bit too distracted since the previous morning to remember to be as subtle as he generally was.

Carefully, the young Fon Master steps forward to climb on top of the bed next to his roommate. He staggers and sways awkwardly on top of the mattress, but quickly holds out a hand to stabilize himself against the wall. "Sorry, I'm a little..."

Ion trails off, unsure of the word to use. Not that it isn't obvious--he does, after all, look (on a good day) as if he'll get blown over by any stray gust of wind. Awkwardly, with a clearly-unpracticed hand, Ion stretches up to scrub gently at the red stain.

"Oh...I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself. My name is Ion." He smiles again, apologetically, as he adds, "I know this isn't an enviable circumstance but nonetheless it's a pleasure to meet you."

Rick gave a slight nod, watching wearily as Ion climbed the bed. He'd been told more times than he was comfortable with how terrible the tower was; needn't discuss it any longer, he thought, or else risk breaking down entirely.

Speaking of "breaking down," the kid was kind of alarmingly wobbly and pale up close, and based on...Rick frowned deeply, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable despite the relatively warm welcome that followed.

"...Rick," he greeted back, still very troubled. This needed to be addressed or else he would feel like an absolute jerk (although he already felt like one regardless). "Are...um...A-Are you ill?"

For a second, Ion's smile turns into something akin to a grimace. His usual smile returns in a heartbeat, however. "I have a fragile constitution," he answers, then gives a sheepish short of laugh. "Which...I suppose is a nicer way of putting it."

Thinking of the implications of the world "ill" makes Ion immediately think of his Original. The one in the Tower who really is ill. It's different, isn't it? They're both astoundingly weak at times...but if they were being compared...

"It's true that I'm physically weak, but don't like to think of myself as being ill."

Not surprisingly, hearing that Ion isn't actually sick made Rick feel even worse about how well he was handling this situation. How astoundingly dumb could he be, he chided himself--asking the kid if he's ill is like asking a guy in a wheelchair if his legs work, or asking why a blind fellow needs a cane. Dumb, dumb, dumb! Codi would have stamped on his foot so hard if she'd been around to hear that. Since she wasn't, Rick settled for chewing his tongue and turning beet red.

"...Right..." he looked intently at the ceiling. "S-Sorry, that was...really out of place."

Ion just shakes his head. "Not at all. It's a natural thing to want to know--especially if we're to be roommates." It was good to have a bit of a warning if the boy sleeping feet away from you was prone to fainting, right? Rick might want to be prepared for something like that happening. Or even know to stay clear so he wouldn't have to deal with it.

"It's a bit of an inconvenience, especially in a setting like this one, with all the stairs...but I do what I can to make the most of it. I always have." He pauses while he tries to add a bit more strength into his ineffective scrubbing, hoping the increased output of energy won't tire himself out too much, before adding, "I'm used to being asked about my...condition, so it really doesn't bother me. I just hope I don't make you uncomfortable."

Ion's roommate did look, after all, more than just a bit uncomfortable already.

Ion would probably learn after a few days with Rick that him being uncomfortable was nothing unusual.

"--O-Oh! Oh no, n-not at all," said Rick, as his characteristic blush began to intrude on his neck and shoulders. It was almost as if this whole thing was actually making him extremely uncomfortable, and he was just lying to accommodate his new roommate! A very subtle gesture, surely--especially while still scrubbing the ceiling next to him.

...Which Rick was starting to notice that Ion wasn't as practiced at cleaning as...well, a normal person was. That was probably something to do with his mysterious weakening "condition" and his sapped strength. But he was so insistent before, wanting to clean this up...Rick didn't have the heart to address him directly.

Instead, after a fairly long pause: "...I can, um...t-t-take it from here."

Too much. [ That might've been a snort if he had the will for it. As it is, he only breathes a quiet, but forceful, sigh as he leans tiredly back against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. ] Maybe. It's still never enough, here. [ Here, he closes his eyes for a moment before reopening them, turning his head to stare calculatingly up at Rick. ]

... You were on the network already?

[ Funny. He'd been on it too, not long ago. A 'Feferi,' were there any other recent posts besides the one that... no, not that he can recall.

...Well. ]

I suppose... you wouldn't happen to be 'Rick,' would you.

["Enough to make me terrified and extremely disconcerted," he wants to say, but before the words can make the difficult journey out of his mouth, Raven mentions the network.]

[Rick blinks blankly at the opposite wall. The last couple hours have been one highly distressing blur for him, so he doesn't connect the dots just yet. Instead, he nods.]

...Y-Yes. I'm s-s-sorry for not, ah, in-introducing m-myself.

[Rick begins extending his arm for a handshake, but his fingers are covered in nasty and he thinks better of it. He offers a smile to compensate.]

For a moment, Ion doesn't seem to understand. But then, looking at the less-than-efficient job he's been doing, his cheeks flush with embarrassment and his shoulders slump dejectedly. "I suppose I'm not doing a very good job, am I? I'm sorry..."

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I've never really done much cleaning before," the Fon Master admits, "but I just don't feel right leaving you to do all of this when you didn't play any part in it."

Rick floundered to lessen the blow, so insistently that he halfway pulled himself off the wall.

"--N-No! No, th-that's n-not--" He paused and, with a brief glint of inspiration and a shake of the head, chuckled softly despite his desperation. "--R-Really, it's n-not...it's not th-that big of a d-d-deal. I j-just...d-don't want you t-t-to...t-to h-hurt y-yourself."

[ Raven tilts his head. It's strangely quizzical-looking, almost, if he could manage quite that level of cluelessly harmless. ] You've no need to apologize when I'm guilty of the same thing.

Raven, anyway. We... spoke, briefly, earlier. [ over the network. you know, if you could call that exchange 'speaking.' ]

We...did?

[It takes him a moment of mental backpedaling to get up to speed. "Raven" was one of the names on the door, so this is obviously one of his roommates, but his own name was posted as "Patrick," so he must've found his nickname from...well he did mention the network just a second ago, so...oh! How obvious!]

[Rick's face turns very, very red.]

...You r-replied to m-my post?

Ah... [ It's a short, terse nod Rick receives in response, though more out of awkwardness than sternness. Maybe it was a bad idea to have mentioned that? ]

Well. Yes. I did, I mean... [ he mutters, fighting down the strong urge to bring a hand up to massage his temple.

Really, what else do you say to that... ]

[If anything, Rick is more embarrassed that he didn't recognize Raven before this point, despite not seeing his face or getting his name over the network in the first place--much like if he'd just encountered someone he'd talked to over the phone and didn't realize it until mid-conversation. Anyone could recognize the mistake and brush it aside as inconsequential, but Rick is (as he is in any social encounter, let's be honest) terrified that he's made some sort of horrible mistake, and that Raven is judging him harshly for it.]

O-Oh! Um...r-right! S-Sorry, I-I-I should h-have, ah-- [Rick shoves a hand in his hair and his eyes fall to the floor.] --I-I should h-h-have known, I--I'm, um...

[He would kick his feet, but he doesn't want to scuff the bed, so instead he just stares at his feet and imagines that he is. Awkward silence falls.]

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First Contact

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Room 1-16

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5 million event tags later

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