Destination: Carcosa

[polymods]

✖ Carcosa

Ⅰ. THE TEMPLE
You can read all about your character's arrival in the game lore.
The island's harbour is full of other ships, although not a single one of them seems to actually have a human being aboard. (You could certainly try to steal one, but doing so is an exercise in futility - you will find that even if you set off into the ocean you will wind up right back in the harbour again after spending a few hours lost in the fog.) Beyond the harbour is a glittering city of glass and gold. Curving arches and sharp geometric lines are the hallmarks of the architecture - an art deco paradise that whispers of decadence and hope for the future.

The people who crowd the streets wear suits and hats, drop-waist dresses and furs. Their faces are all blank smiles. It's the roaring twenties, darling, why do you look so concerned?

If it is your first experience of the Endless Isles, you have access to the High Temple. Should you wish, you may also seek out the island's own temple as well, which is located inside the city, in a district mostly forgotten by the residents. Don’t worry - your feet will carry you there.

The building is not large, and it is old and neglected. It has a domed ceiling, with panels of glass crisscrossed with metal painted gold curving upward. Whatever fine pattern may have formed there is lost to time; the glass at the centerpoint of the dome is gone, letting in the smell of the sea.

There are rooms equipped with beds spreading out like a spiderweb from the middle of the building. The temple proper is of course in the exact center, below the broken dome. In the middle of this circular room you will find dead branches gathered together to make a vaguely humanoid shape. This crude figure has been haphazardly painted yellow. A slab of concrete sits in front of it. There is not much to explore here; it is very quiet.

Either temple is a good place to simply rest, or meet some of your fellow Travelers. The High Temple of course has the Temple Chef and its usual Guardians, Flock, and Lantern.

The Island Temple has its own Guardians, which are small, pale humanoids with perfectly blank faces and small antlers like young deer. They will leave you alone unless you try to meddle with the central room. Doing so will result in one of them approaching you, and you will find yourself falling unconscious on the floor.

---

Ⅱ. THE MASQUERADE
Through happenstance, you find yourself in an enormous ballroom. Low couches are dotted everywhere, and a live band plays somewhere at the end of the massive space. A long bar takes up one side of the room, bottles sparkling under the light cast from the many cut-glass chandeliers hanging overhead. Champagne flows freely, and the scent of gin pervades the air.

All of the attendees are wearing masks.

You're dressed for the occasion, of course - you will find yourself wearing something reminiscent of 1920s America, with a small yellow sigil of some sort pinned to your breast. Ask any of the guests about it and they will tell you, "ah, it's a secret." You too, of course, are wearing a mask. You did not pick this mask, but if you look in the mirror hung over the bar you will find that it nonetheless hints at some aspect of your personality.

Which would be all well and good, except that you can't take the bloody thing off.

Moving around the ballroom, you will discover that a few other people also have the yellow sigil pinned to their clothing. It probably shouldn't surprise you that these people are all other Travelers, equally unable to take their mask off.

No, you can't unmask until you share something with your new-found friend: a secret. A REAL one, the sort you'd never speak aloud.

Of course, you can choose not to share. If you choose that route, however, you'll find that the mask is fusing with your skin. Leave it on past midnight when the cries of "UNMASK! UNMASK!" begin, and it will simply become your new face for the duration of the month.

---

Ⅲ. THE PLAY
Maybe parties aren't your style. No fear, there's plenty more to do and see in such a wondrous city. There's a theatre - the Meliora Grand as a matter of fact - and perhaps you're just the sort of person who would like to take in the arts.

The theatre has plush seats, and fabulous electric sconces lining the wall. Once you take your seat you'll find yourself looking at the stage, where a blood-red velvet curtain hangs. The theatre doesn't seem to fill up - indeed, it really seems that there's only you and one or two other people there. Curious.


The lights go down and the curtain is drawn open, revealing... well. Not much.

There are two chairs on the stage, a table between them. On the table lays a pallid face: a mask. Just a mask. Why not go on up and take a closer look?

Should you choose to touch the mask, you will feel a deep urge to speak to whoever else is in the theatre. You will, in fact, feel the desire to act out some sort of emotional trauma with them. Perhaps they suddenly look like your mother, your father, a lover who left you. Why don't you tell them how you really feel?

Naturally, you can both just sit in awkward silence instead. You'll be waiting until the morning to be let out, if that's the case.

---

Ⅳ. LOST CARCOSA
CW: the undead.
You find yourself walking along the beach at night. Along the shore the cloud-waves break, and black stars rise above you.

You can't quite pinpoint when you realise you are no longer alone. Maybe there is only one other person on the beach with you, or perhaps a few; you move as one down the expanse of sand until you realise there is something laying up ahead of you.

There is a heap of yellow cloth there, dry and tattered with age. It smells faintly of spices. Nestled among it is a jewel-encrusted human skull. Its empty sockets compel you to sit down in the cool, bone-white sand, to sit and speak to those around you about loss.

Everyone has lost something important to them. A person, a thing, a place, an aspect of the self. Something that's gone and you're never getting back. The skull grins endlessly, endlessly, encouraging you to speak about something you may not have laid to rest.

You can resist this compulsion. Maybe you were never good at sharing. Refuse the skull's silent request and you may continue down along the beach, or perhaps head back the way you came. As you walk, however, you will notice that there is a fog rolling in. It comes in off the sea/sky, obscuring the beach until you can barely see.

It's a terribly handy cover for the corpses that are shambling out of the surf. Wet, bloated, with eyes that glow a dim gold, they head for you silently. They wish to drag you back with them, into the depths. Better hope you can outrun or outfight them.

Bonus: What's that? You want a Carcosa playlist? You've got it, babes!

Network · Logs · OOC · Memes · Plurk

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Simon Laurent | Infinity Train | OTA

[incelligent]

001 | The Island Temple:

[If anyone finds themselves walking through Carcosa's temple to find some peace, well, you certainly won't with this brat scowling and growling about. In fact, Simon is screaming at the top of his lungs, demanding attention from the temple's little horned caretakers, who seem to idly be going about their way.]

This isn't right!

[As he continues to yell, one will notice that his voice sounds hoarse and his eyes red, from both crying and a lack of sleep.]

They've made some kind of mistake. I don't belong here.

This... This, thing-

[Simon pants, his shoulders heaving as he does. He points to the color on his Scrywatch, which is as orange as it can be.]

Must be broken. I've never hurt anybody.

[Not people, anyway, nothing real, nulls are stupid, they don't count-]

And I demand that I be sent back to where I belong!

002 | The Party:

[When Simon comes to, all he can hear is the quiet chit-chat of guests and the light clinking of tall wine glasses. He isn't entirely sure how he got here, and as he looks down, realizes that his attire has changed completely. He is clad in attire far fancier and more nicely fitted than anything he's ever worn in his short teenage life, and immediately, he despises how uncomfortable the garb is. He's about to open his mouth in protest, though he catches a glimpse of his own reflection of himself in the silver serving tray at a nearby refreshment table, noting the mask that's been chosen for him, suddenly sporting a cocky grin.]

Cool.

[Though it fades rather quickly. His hair is undone, cascading about his shoulders, light blond bangs tracing over the top edge of the mask.]

Welp, guess I gotta find myself another hairtie.

[Parties trigger Simon's ever-present anxiety, and as he scans the crowd, he will be frustrated to find that he recognizes no one, especially because everyone else is masked too. Nervously, he takes a sip from a tall glass offered to him by a generous staff member who seems to notice that he's not feeling all that well, although he spits it right back into the glass immediately, ungracefully wiping his mouth.]

Eugh, yuck, what is this?

[The server answers politely.]

G-gin? Oh no, h-hey... Would you happen to have a club soda, or somethin'? I'm, uuuuh... Allergic.

003| The Beach:

[Finally, if anyone were to catch Simon on the shore, they would notice that he's curled up into a little ball, holding his knees close to his chest, sobbing miserably. He doesn't seem to notice the things slowly making their way out of the water, as his snotty, tearful little episode is a tad too loud for him to hear them coming.]

( 003 )

[dothelokimotion]

[ well. this is somewhat unexpected. loki pokes him with his foot. hm. ]

Are you dead?

[incelligent]

[Loki will hear him gasp, every muscle in his body tightening. He does not rise to his feet just yet, but Simon certainly does rise to attention-]

No.

[His features twist into something of a snarl. How easy it is for Simon to turn from sad to outright irate, as the transformation is quick, smooth like butter. Or at least, it would be, if there weren't those obvious tear stains on his face. With all the ferocity of a wild animal, Simon grabs Loki's ankle, though his grip is a mere threat. It's hardly something to fear for a God like Loki himself. Still, perhaps there's a chance this man will pity someone who is so obviously very young and in great emotional distress... Maybe. If anything, he might get a laugh out of the sight of someone baring teeth while continuing to sniffle.]

[dothelokimotion]

[ loki simply looks on, impassive. he hardly cuts an intimidating figure, dressed in a black suit than his usual leathers and his crown is nowhere to be seen. at the most, he appears to be a tall, gaunt dispassionate stranger. he eyes the grip like it doesn't register to him. ]

Well, then. This is a poor place to lay down and die.

[incelligent]

[Simon practically thrusts Loki's foot away from himself, resisting any and all urge to tell this man about loss, or his abandonment-]

I'm not lying down and I am not gonna die here, I just-

[He inhales sharply.]

Needed some space.

[Earth to Simon Laurent, yes, hello... It's time for your Very Special Episode to be over because those are um corPSES rising from the dEPTHS-]

What's your problem?

[dothelokimotion]

[ dryly. ]

You're going to have to be more specific.

[ as he looks at the ocean. ]

Also there are zombies coming your way so dying might be more likely than you realize.

003

[unkindled_madness]

[Sephiroth's first impulse on coming across a sobbing young man on the beach is... to keep walking. If some stranger is dealing so poorly with this situation, it has nothing to do with him.

But there are... things crawling up out of the thick fog on the water. Monsters, as it appears. Sephiroth isn't alarmed, but he stops and raises his voice to address the pathetic figure.]

You may want to run.

[incelligent]

[Despite the fact that Sephiroth's voice is devoid of any and all emotion, there is a soothing quality to it. Maybe that's exactly it. His tone, and the depth to it, or... Complete lack thereof, is the opposite of what Simon is feeling right now, which is everything bad. Loneliness, fear, shame, and anger all at once. A miserable cocktail, too strong for this young man to brace.

Quickly, he takes one big sniff, as if he's trying to somehow turn his nose inside out, though really it's because he knows that he looks disgusting. If there is one thing that Simon despises, utterly and completely, it's looking weak, so he dries his tears and turns around-]

A-ah!

[Only to be aghast at what he sees.]

What... What are those things?

[He is petrified.

Not since the first time he spotted a Gohm has he felt terror this visceral. With nulls, at least Simon knew what they were, to some degree. They were train things. Threats, dangerous and not to be trusted, but also somehow toys for amusement.

These are something else. Far more dangerous.]

And what do they want with us?

[unkindled_madness]

Beyond appearance, I couldn't tell you.

[He's seen plenty of corpses, and he's heard of the concept of the walking dead, but zombies aren't really his genre.]

I expect they mean to kill us.

[That statement isn't entirely without emotion; it's a laughable idea, that this shambling collection of dead things could kill him. And maybe that kind of confidence is reassuring.

He's armed only with the small knife he took from the temple, but he hasn't drawn it, yet, because that seems like it would get messy. A glance out of the corner of his eye tells him Simon hasn't made any move to flee. So, when the first zombie reaches him, Sephiroth sidesteps its grasping arms, grabs it by the neck, and hurls it back into the other approaching undead.]

[incelligent]

[Gathering himself takes a moment, and when Simon rises to his feet, he falters, shoes sliding in the wet sand. It's not as though he doesn't know how to fight, but it's more that he's learned that taking chances with unknown threats is a serious hazard.

He wonders, for a moment, if he were to die here- Would Grace even know? Is this where passengers go when they disappear off the train? He couldn't tell you. And so far, he's the only one he's met of his kind.]

Is this all because of that stupid robot?

[Suddenly somehow, everything fades around him.

He can't blame all his problems on anything here, not anything he knows. Somehow, this seems even beyond One-One's doing. Nothing here is a null, they are stupid parts of the train itself, and this is not that otherworldly vehicle-]

No...

[He turns to face one of the Things, a ghastly and haunting mess, with it's skull peeking through thin layers of rotting flesh. The smell of the undead is foul, a combination of death and decay and... Saltwater. The kind that he will never forget.]

It's her fault.

[And it's with that he regains his strength- By placing the blame on someone else entirely...

It's what helps him deliver a high kick to the monster's would-be gut.]

[unkindled_madness]

...well then.

[Simon is clearly going through something that Sephiroth does not understand and, frankly, doesn't care about. But, he is a little surprised that someone who was in a ball sobbing not one minute ago is attempting to fight.

Sephiroth is quite confident he doesn't need the help, but as long as Simon isn't getting in his way then so be it.

He doesn't know why they're being set upon by the undead, but the fact that their opponents are already dead means there is no reason whatsoever for him to hold back. It's the most at ease he's felt since coming here. Forget that damn temple, battle is where he feels at home, even without a sword.

The zombies aren't especially strong, or fast, but they keep getting back up after his blows knock them down, and the heavy fog obscures their number. One manages to get a hand on his arm; he grabs it and pulls, inadvertantly separating the arm from its owner. He tosses the limb aside and slams his fist into the zombie's face, hard enough to cave it in. That one... might not be getting back up.]

002.

[suckonthis]

[ Guess who's 'in the neighborhood'? It's your good friend, Ryo. He had just finished his fo...urth (???????) flute of champagne and saw the server standing by Simon like a hawk spotting prey mid-flight. Like a hawk, he makes a direct path to where the two stood, just in time to witness Simon recoiling from the hard liquor.

He's much too smooth in how he just swoops in there and grabs the gin out of Simon's ungrateful little fingies, raising the glass to his lips. Wow. ]

He has a sensitive stomach. Could you get him some crackers, too?

[ IS HE MAKING A MOCKERY OF THE SITUATION?

Yes. Yes he is. He waits until the server has slipped away before turning to Simon, eyebrow raising at the mask. He is very against the idea of these things being tied to the person wearing them for his own sake, but his lips are loosened by his particular brand of passing the time. ]

Club soda? Are you eighty? [ He takes a sip and sighs, the hand not on the glass slipping into his tux. ] This not your kind of thing?

UNGRATEFUL LITTLE FINGIES (1/2)

[incelligent]

[Is that... Is this Ryo to the rescue? Is Simon Laurent being saved by the devil himself? What are the odds.

Simon doesn't resist that incredibly rude gesture at all. In fact, he seems downright relieved that someone has taken it off his hands. He is so excited at the prospect of food and something normal that he bulldozes through that very pointed insult-]

Boy oh boy! Crackers sound great actually, I am pretty hungry, now that ya mention i-

2/2

[incelligent]

Hey!

[It's the age comment that ruffles his feathers a bit, because, screw you, rude guy he doesn't know even know the name of!]

Of course it's not! I hate parties. Especially dance parties?

[Those are totally Grace's thing.]

Unless you go with someone to one of these things, you never know what to do! Like, am I supposed to talk to somebody? Or stare at the wall until I decide to rip my own eyeballs out? Sheesh!

Ugh! And don't even get me started on how lame and uncomfortable the outfits are.

[simon... you look good for once!!! creis... plz... you stupid, horrible boy]

These places are just the worst.

[He is folding his arms. Angrily!!! Also because this whole scenario reminds him of the fact that he was in a place like this such a short while ago, and he had gotten the chance to dance with the woman of his dreams.

Who isn't here right now for the first time in eight years. After being by his side every day, through thick and thin.

And oh, does he miss her terribly.]

[suckonthis]

[ 3...2...1, there it is. Ryo actually laughs and chooses to nurse his stolen...totally underage...drink for idle chit chat. Maybe he's a little restless himself since he really didn't come here with anybody, either. ]

This isn't the kind of party I'm familiar with, myself.

[ He shrugs, choosing not to go into the kind of party he gets around to. The only common thing was a live band and a lot of sacrificial bodies. ]

If you don't have someone to entertain you use it as an opportunity to make some connections. See if there's anyone here useful. Or you could claw your eyes out. I guess. [ He sounds so aloof it should be punishable. He sips and gives Simon a look. ] You look fine. Stop fidgeting. Are you usually this tense?

[ Before he forgets: ] Thanks for the drink, by the way.

[incelligent]

[There's something about this person's attitude that Simon dislikes right off the bat. It's egotistical and snarky, very holier than thou, but the Apex's second-in-command will play nice for now. No reason to sucker punch this guy in the gut just yet. Besides, he very well may be able shoot laser beams from his eyes, or something.

God, Simon hates this place already.]

Connections?

[He scrunches up his face, nose curling. The expression that results is something between a look of bewilderment and disgust. Ugh, what are emotions and """healthy""" relationships-]

I don't know about you, my guy, but I'm just tryin' to make it home in one piece.

[Plus, other than Akira and maybe Wanda, everyone else he's spoken to is a potential threat or an absolute nutjob.]

Huh? Oh, yeah, whatever.

[Despite the Sarcasm and Condescension that comes with that remark about the drink, Simon is relieved that it's out of his hands.]

You doin' okay there, pal? Kinda smells like you've had a few of those tonight, phew!

[Not uttered with even a smidgeon of actual concern. Ugh. Alcohol on the breath is not a pleasant scent.]

[suckonthis]

[ He is holier than thou, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't be punched in the gut. Hell, a fight might make this party more fun; it's certainly a dance that Ryo's familiarized himself with in the past few months. Simon' s distaste for his fellow blond is palpable; Ryo just doesn't seem to care much for the poor second first impression. He counters the turn of Simon's mouth (disgust, hm?) with a pleasant smile. It's doesn't meet his eyes, but it rarely does anyway. ]

Most of us want to get home. I don't think you're going to manage it alone, so yes. Connections.

[ Oh, but there is a hint of impatience at the last comment. With a final sip he smoothly puts the half-empty glass on the tray of some poor server that had cycled around. Fine, Simon. Have it your way, even if it's at the price of Ryo's continued shitty ego being on display. ]

I'm doing fine, actually. I'm just pitying your social skills.

[ POT CALLING KETTLE, RYO. ]

I'm not trying to step on your toes. If I wanted to do that I'd ask you to dance.

002 | The Party

[everlastingchains]

[ There's another man that's just as awkward as the blond. His mask looks terribly heavy and he obviously is not used to this styling of cloths by the way he walks.

He hears and understands the young man's plight. Victor doesn't drink himself. He has his reasons. But that means he's already gotten somewhat of a solution to the problem.]

Here. Take this.

[It's a wine glass with a few cubes of ice happily melting away very very slowly.] I took them from where they were making the drinks with ice in them.

[incelligent]

[Simon's breathing is simply erratic at this point in time. His anxiety is at an all time high, what with the crowds and everything, and being in a new place... He may be masked, but his eyes are clearly open wide and full of fright, and the awful little man hunches over, doing his best to ignore how the room suddenly seems to be spinning. He resorts to comforting himself by squeezing a spot on his left arm near the elbow with his dominant hand, an old habit.

Usually, he'd be too suspicious to take a drink from a stranger, but Simon is alone here, and he could really use a friend or at the very least an ally at present-]

...Thanks.

[Sheepishly, he takes the glass, although he doesn't drink from it just yet. Seeing someone who also doesn't take to this tailored suit business is comforting. He is hesitant to trust an adult, seeing as he supposedly hasn't needed one for eight years. Please note: He absolutely has, it's fucked up his morality and ability to feel, and um... Yes. Moms, Dads, Gender Neutral Parent Figures... SOS???

But he has always had Grace. His only constant.

And she, too, is gone for now.]

Um, who're you?

Cw: mention of drug usage

[everlastingchains]

[It's easy for the doctor to diagnose what's going on with the young man. He might not be in the psychiatric field but he knows the start of hysteria when he sees it. In fact, he rather recognizes some of his own symptoms.

He knows how to treat it as well. He simply doesn't have his bag here. He doesn't have the heavy sedatives he'd given to Vanessa at her worst. What he does have, well, it's not with him. It's in that bag the temple guardians gave him and he personally needs that. Which means he has to try another way. He can shove his own anxieties down and work.

Step one is to use his body to try and block the rest of the room. It's a sad attempt from a man who likely hasn't eaten a full meal in far too long. He makes for a awkward rail thin curtain.

Cool surgeon's fingers light gently on the young man's arm. He counts the pulse as he goes. He needs to get that heart rate down!]

I'm a doctor.

[It's as simple as that.]

And I rather think I should escort you to a window where you might sit and catch your breath. Come with me?

i spoke 2 soon im laughing (cw: pedophilia mention)

[incelligent]

[The sudden hand on his person sets off alarm bells. Simon withdraws his arm immediately- Those fingers are cold, damn it! And what kind of weird older dude goes around touching random kids he doesn't know? Creepy!]

I think I'm good right here, thanks.

[He's not one to enjoy parties or large gatherings, but he is aware of the fact that everyone here can see them. Despite his seemingly nervous demeanor, his abandonment by the Cat at the age of ten has certainly led him to be fairly wary of strangers. Younger children and kids his own age are one thing, but adults? They're only worth entertaining when they have something he can use to his own advantage.

Simon carefully slips the patch of skin with his Scrywatch into the nearest pocket of his tuxedo, concealing his orange reading. Thankfully, that's not the wrist or elbow this guy was feeling up.]

Sooo, haha... Doctor, huh? I hope ya don't mind my askin', but uh...

[Akira had mentioned that he was born in 1969, meaning that while he and Simon were around the same age, he hailed from the past. So far, Simon has encountered a god, a demon, and a witch. None of these things exist in his own world, and so there's a chance that this man could be a vampire or something, someone trying to get him into a corner and feast upon his measly flesh. That or he's just a regular old pedophile.]

Where did you go to medical school?

[The blond knows full well that this answer could be a lie too. Either way, whatever the man says, or how he says it, will give Simon at least a little more information.]

001!

[dependably]

You're not gonna get any answers from them.

[ the rough almost gruff voice sounds from nearby, the Mercenary leaning against a pillar not far from where Simon is showcasing his demands. it certainly didn't take Naib long to realize the other man is a "Traveler" like himself. though he spent most his time himself scavenging anything useful for him to use.. he isn't surprised to find other people with a much more distressed reaction. if Naib wasn't use to a situation taking a turn for the worst from his experiences of war and back at the manor, maybe he'd be the same?

for now, he pointedly ignores looking at that gleaming orange on the other man's wrist. his own giving a glimpse of either yellow or orange itself but his arms are at a cross to make it difficult to see. ]

Take some deep breaths. Won't do you any good to exhaust yourself here. [ despite the almost hard set of his expression shown with his hair fortunately being tied up with some kind of wire, his voice isn't at all that harsh. it sounds like he's trying to actually calm and reassure the other man. ] What's your name?

[incelligent]

[Simon is angry, sure, and while it's not unlike him to take out his frustrations on the nearest punchable thing, he knows better than to do so.

After all, he has yet to meet a person like himself- Someone human, someone normal. With bones that break and blood that can be drained from his body, entirely free of magic or any other enhancements. It has made him feel small, something he hates, something he can't stand-]

Yours first.

[The words are spoken through gritted teeth.

Simon turns in the other direction, hiding his own face in shame. The Mercenary's voice may be gruff, but there's a peculiar sort of assuredness in it that does seem to help, even though the frustrated teen will not admit it. Simon despises the fact that tears are flowing down his cheeks at this very moment, and that there is nothing he can do to stifle them.

His reaction will indicate that he is very young, volatile.]

State yours first!

[He inhales sharply between sniffles. As uncouth as his reply might be, he is trying to follow the other traveler's advice. Simon reaches for a spot above his left elbow and squeezes it with his right, an old habit.

It's horrible, knowing that the feels just as weak and useless as he did before, all those years ago. He told himself that he was more than just a sniveling, helpless brat, and yet?

He's one and the same.]

[dependably]

[ the Mercenary barely bats an eye at sound of that shaky response, the demand struggling to sound more confident with the next response. however, he doesn't get irked by it, or even remotely bothered by it now directed to him so sharply. use to such frazzled responses from his experiences.

and so, he brings a hand to scratch at the back of his own head just to give him an extra moment. he isn't really the best kind of person when it comes to comforting someone.. and a kid at that. if only someone like Emily or Emma were around.. they'd be sure to cheer him up from his sniffling.

well, the least he can do is give an answer. ]

Subedar.

[ Naib can feel the temple dweller's eyes on them, wary and uncertain. he gives them a look before glancing back to Simon even if the only thing he can see is the slight shake of those shoulders. at least the natives seem to start to disperse as they assume Naib has everything under control now ( he isn't sure but, at least it gives Simon some space. ) ] So what's yours?

[incelligent]

[But that's just it.

Simon is used to being dealt the cruelest of hands, so any touch of kindness or compassion, even the tiniest sliver, is enough. An odd variety of traumas has plagued him since he was ten, making things tricky. Playing soldier has made it difficult to tell real friends from practical alliances, and he's walked the line between life and death so often that when it comes to the safety of others, he sometimes mistakes it for a game.

Or perhaps it's really that he doesn't care.]

Simon.

[He answers, wide-eyed, now fully grieving.]

I don't belong here and I wanna go home.

I... I'm not a bad person, I-

[He is.

He just doesn't know it.]

They must've got their files mixed up.