Orchid Espere (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
petal_storm) wrote2023-03-27 12:07 am
petal_storm) wrote2023-03-27 12:07 am
Entry tags:
May this find you well...
Who: Markux, Jepsum, the gems
When: Several months after he killed four people.
What: Markux spiraling too hard.
He set the last set of papers straight on his desk and stared down at them, mind beautifully, wonderfully blank and still for a moment. It wasn't perfect, nothing was perfect when you were trying to plan ahead a hundred years and more, but it was as good as it could get until future events unfolded. He'd done his best, every permutation of Magnus's future moves, every single string he could see the man pulling, every single turn of phrase, underhanded dealing, and person in the man's pocket.
It was a masterstroke of mental recollection. His magnum opus, pity that his legacy would be the codex to a diseased mind.
Everything he'd done in the past to counter the man, what Magnus had done to him, and everything he suspected and couldn't verify; that was the hellish side. A maelstrom of evil and there was no evidence. No solid proof. Why he couldn't go to the Council or Peacekeepers prior.
Why he couldn't even tell one of his few friends, Jepsum, about his suspicions about the man's wife...
...they were written down now. Archaic. Unalterable. No hacking, no shifting what he had created. There were three copies, one mailed to Patrol via a badger. Wrapped tight and labelled 'The Magnus Protocol'. One he'd sent to Jepsum in a biolock box. He had to bleed on the lock and say the words he'd know to open it, as well as have no one else in the room. A precaution against the aforementioned 'wife'. The third he had and he'd be...locking it away where people could find it if all else failed.
People...
...because he wasn't going to be there. It was the only thought that brought him peace these days, that inner stillness that even drugs couldn't create. He breathed softly and started to rise when his screen chimed. Damn the luck. Data showed it was Jepsum calling in. He could just let it ring, pretend he had already been gone when the call came in, but, well. He lifted his mask from the desk and settled it gently in place, painted silk kinder for the world to see than his bleak face these days, "Jepsum."
The screen cleared to show the tired face of his friend and he couldn't help the sigh, "you haven't slept again, Jepsum."
"I'll sleep when I'm dead," the councilman said tiredly. "You sent me a box."
"I did," he agreed easily.
"What is it?"
Markux stared behind his mask a moment, glancing at the room the screen showed, no telling where the woman was, "a book. Incredibly fragile and limited first edition. Hence precautions."
"You know I barely get to read for pleasure these days Markux, so why tease me?"
"It's not a tease my friend, it's temptation to care for yourself. For even just a few moments, and there's no one else I'd wish to send it to."
"Markux..." the councilman looked concerned, "you haven't been out of the hospital long, and I don't like how you sound. Do you have medical on hand?"
Ah, the instincts on that man, "I'm sorry, I'm just quieter than I was Jepsum, nothing to concern yourself with."
"You know I can have someone watching you within the hour, right?"
"You'd call that abuse of power," he smiled gently. "I'm leaving the office now, to rest. I promise."
"Markux..."
"Goodnight, Jepsum," he blanked the screen, tired, and headed for his hover, the last book in a bag on his shoulder. He wasn't at the spa often these days; it was a painfully clean place to be. Honest, wholesome, and a memory of who he was once. He was going there now and his people were delighted to see him. Fussy, getting his wrap off him, just generally touching him and assuring him he was missed and he wanted nothing more than to grab hold of them and cry until it didn't hurt as much.
That was selfish though, to taint them with the darkness he had now.
So he pulled on a a mask one last time, cooed and teased and shooed them away so he could go to his office. There to peel his actual mask off and tremble, shaking until he realized his heart was stuttering again. He had to lean on his desk and just breathe in order to make it all settle. He still had to lock the book away, not his office, no, he took it through the library. Hide things with their like to keep them best hidden. Precious things among precious things, books among books. This one had an elegantly tooled, brocade cover and spine, a masterwork of small detail, with orchids crawling up the spine. He slide it home among others of similar color, but minus that flower.
He didn't know what it meant, yet, but it had been what Magnus gifted him at the hospital so it was a move in their game. A clue.
It'd make sense to someone some day certainly.
That done he breathed a sigh of relief and slowly headed down the hall of his quarters, stripping and settling the beautiful clothes in their proper places as he went. No need to dirty things after all, he just needed a light robe, the scalpel he had stashed in his bedside table, and the garden lounger. The roses would actually thrive on blood, no mess, just quiet...
...his only mistake was managing to sever nerves when he slid the blade from wrist to elbow in his left arm. It meant he couldn't actually grip the scalpel after, leaving one arm unscathed. Damn it all. Ah well, it was a lovely night, with the dark stars above and the quiet singing of insects and night life that existed no where else in the zones but his disks...
...he could wait.
* * *
Rose Quartz pushed the office doors open, tray in hand, and eased inward, listening, "Markux?" she called. She was mostly blind due to the modifications to make her eyes such a lovely, milky pink. Many made things found their way to Markux's sanctuary, but it did mean she was better at sneaking quietly into the back rooms to leave a tray if the man had actually managed to sleep.
She got halfway down the closet hall before she froze, shivering, "blood..." Oh no. "MALACHITE!" she screamed, her friend had brought the tray to her at the door after all.
The girl striped in green light came pelting in at the scream, "what?"
"Blood. I smell too much blood..."
"Oh hell," she growled. "Fetch Pearl!" she demanded, continuing her run down the hall. Pearl was one of their masochists, he had a lot of experience with blood and injury, and how to stabilize someone well enough to get to medical.
The pink eyed girl nodded, turning to run and hoping no one got in her way.
All said and done they all ended up...locked in Pearl's room with Markux. All the gems because the evening was over and they were the unofficial assistant managers of the spa. Markux was propped in the pool, arm stitched and an IV bag on one of the hooks above. They were all waiting, staring, until the man stirred, cracking an eye open with a wince. "Welcome back," Pearl noted softly. "We are going to shake you."
Markux winced, glancing around slowly, "ah." Damn.
"It was those four wasn't it?" Malachite growled. "Somehow. What happened?"
"I killed them," he noted starkly, staring at the ceiling, with it's crafted mosaic depicting Atlantis. "All four of them. On purpose." Then...then he broke down sobbing.
He wasn't the first person to be forced to kill someone in their spa family, far from. Or the first to try to kill themselves. Somehow he'd forgotten that, but they weren't going to let him forget it again, no. Just as he sat with any and all his rescued people who needed him...
...they were going to sit with him.
Every moment.
Every day.
For as long as he needed.
When: Several months after he killed four people.
What: Markux spiraling too hard.
He set the last set of papers straight on his desk and stared down at them, mind beautifully, wonderfully blank and still for a moment. It wasn't perfect, nothing was perfect when you were trying to plan ahead a hundred years and more, but it was as good as it could get until future events unfolded. He'd done his best, every permutation of Magnus's future moves, every single string he could see the man pulling, every single turn of phrase, underhanded dealing, and person in the man's pocket.
It was a masterstroke of mental recollection. His magnum opus, pity that his legacy would be the codex to a diseased mind.
Everything he'd done in the past to counter the man, what Magnus had done to him, and everything he suspected and couldn't verify; that was the hellish side. A maelstrom of evil and there was no evidence. No solid proof. Why he couldn't go to the Council or Peacekeepers prior.
Why he couldn't even tell one of his few friends, Jepsum, about his suspicions about the man's wife...
...they were written down now. Archaic. Unalterable. No hacking, no shifting what he had created. There were three copies, one mailed to Patrol via a badger. Wrapped tight and labelled 'The Magnus Protocol'. One he'd sent to Jepsum in a biolock box. He had to bleed on the lock and say the words he'd know to open it, as well as have no one else in the room. A precaution against the aforementioned 'wife'. The third he had and he'd be...locking it away where people could find it if all else failed.
People...
...because he wasn't going to be there. It was the only thought that brought him peace these days, that inner stillness that even drugs couldn't create. He breathed softly and started to rise when his screen chimed. Damn the luck. Data showed it was Jepsum calling in. He could just let it ring, pretend he had already been gone when the call came in, but, well. He lifted his mask from the desk and settled it gently in place, painted silk kinder for the world to see than his bleak face these days, "Jepsum."
The screen cleared to show the tired face of his friend and he couldn't help the sigh, "you haven't slept again, Jepsum."
"I'll sleep when I'm dead," the councilman said tiredly. "You sent me a box."
"I did," he agreed easily.
"What is it?"
Markux stared behind his mask a moment, glancing at the room the screen showed, no telling where the woman was, "a book. Incredibly fragile and limited first edition. Hence precautions."
"You know I barely get to read for pleasure these days Markux, so why tease me?"
"It's not a tease my friend, it's temptation to care for yourself. For even just a few moments, and there's no one else I'd wish to send it to."
"Markux..." the councilman looked concerned, "you haven't been out of the hospital long, and I don't like how you sound. Do you have medical on hand?"
Ah, the instincts on that man, "I'm sorry, I'm just quieter than I was Jepsum, nothing to concern yourself with."
"You know I can have someone watching you within the hour, right?"
"You'd call that abuse of power," he smiled gently. "I'm leaving the office now, to rest. I promise."
"Markux..."
"Goodnight, Jepsum," he blanked the screen, tired, and headed for his hover, the last book in a bag on his shoulder. He wasn't at the spa often these days; it was a painfully clean place to be. Honest, wholesome, and a memory of who he was once. He was going there now and his people were delighted to see him. Fussy, getting his wrap off him, just generally touching him and assuring him he was missed and he wanted nothing more than to grab hold of them and cry until it didn't hurt as much.
That was selfish though, to taint them with the darkness he had now.
So he pulled on a a mask one last time, cooed and teased and shooed them away so he could go to his office. There to peel his actual mask off and tremble, shaking until he realized his heart was stuttering again. He had to lean on his desk and just breathe in order to make it all settle. He still had to lock the book away, not his office, no, he took it through the library. Hide things with their like to keep them best hidden. Precious things among precious things, books among books. This one had an elegantly tooled, brocade cover and spine, a masterwork of small detail, with orchids crawling up the spine. He slide it home among others of similar color, but minus that flower.
He didn't know what it meant, yet, but it had been what Magnus gifted him at the hospital so it was a move in their game. A clue.
It'd make sense to someone some day certainly.
That done he breathed a sigh of relief and slowly headed down the hall of his quarters, stripping and settling the beautiful clothes in their proper places as he went. No need to dirty things after all, he just needed a light robe, the scalpel he had stashed in his bedside table, and the garden lounger. The roses would actually thrive on blood, no mess, just quiet...
...his only mistake was managing to sever nerves when he slid the blade from wrist to elbow in his left arm. It meant he couldn't actually grip the scalpel after, leaving one arm unscathed. Damn it all. Ah well, it was a lovely night, with the dark stars above and the quiet singing of insects and night life that existed no where else in the zones but his disks...
...he could wait.
* * *
Rose Quartz pushed the office doors open, tray in hand, and eased inward, listening, "Markux?" she called. She was mostly blind due to the modifications to make her eyes such a lovely, milky pink. Many made things found their way to Markux's sanctuary, but it did mean she was better at sneaking quietly into the back rooms to leave a tray if the man had actually managed to sleep.
She got halfway down the closet hall before she froze, shivering, "blood..." Oh no. "MALACHITE!" she screamed, her friend had brought the tray to her at the door after all.
The girl striped in green light came pelting in at the scream, "what?"
"Blood. I smell too much blood..."
"Oh hell," she growled. "Fetch Pearl!" she demanded, continuing her run down the hall. Pearl was one of their masochists, he had a lot of experience with blood and injury, and how to stabilize someone well enough to get to medical.
The pink eyed girl nodded, turning to run and hoping no one got in her way.
All said and done they all ended up...locked in Pearl's room with Markux. All the gems because the evening was over and they were the unofficial assistant managers of the spa. Markux was propped in the pool, arm stitched and an IV bag on one of the hooks above. They were all waiting, staring, until the man stirred, cracking an eye open with a wince. "Welcome back," Pearl noted softly. "We are going to shake you."
Markux winced, glancing around slowly, "ah." Damn.
"It was those four wasn't it?" Malachite growled. "Somehow. What happened?"
"I killed them," he noted starkly, staring at the ceiling, with it's crafted mosaic depicting Atlantis. "All four of them. On purpose." Then...then he broke down sobbing.
He wasn't the first person to be forced to kill someone in their spa family, far from. Or the first to try to kill themselves. Somehow he'd forgotten that, but they weren't going to let him forget it again, no. Just as he sat with any and all his rescued people who needed him...
...they were going to sit with him.
Every moment.
Every day.
For as long as he needed.