littletonoidea | IC Inbox

It's difficult to say how much Eiffel is aware of Kujen's presence, in his sleep. His dreams are a pile of nonsense, stupid movie scenarios in wild arrangements and more often than not starring someone-who-may-or-may-not-look-like-but-has-the-undeniable-presence-of-Jedao or Hakkai.

And his mind is... strange. Not inhuman, but having been undoubtedly touched by it previously, reshaped to better fit information that's not designed for human minds; information locked away in his subconscious, doors left unlocked but not open, almost like a filter system.

Kujen is not prone to strong emotions. But there's a ruffle of bitter, contemptuous anger, and a sharp edge of curiosity. How does he know them? How does it connect?

And the dream shifts with the curiosity, the slight prompt; an arcade, some interchangeable nothing of a country city, arcade machines tucked against the wall of someone's garage and an air hockey table behind them as Eiffel and Jedao crowd a Pong machine. Everything looks wrong - they're both teenagers, for one, Jedao some nebulous shade of himself when Eiffel's imagination ran dry - but the emotions are real. Bright, easy warmth, the simple joy of connection. Of making a new friend in a strange place.

Interesting.

He nudges with curiosity a little more. Where are they now? If he wanted to go find his friend -

The room changes around them, to Jedao's interior, and Jedao abandons the console first, grabbing Eiffel's wrist to tug him to the couch and push him lightly to make him stumble back and land on the cushion (and Eiffel, out loud, makes a soft noise in his throat as he exhales), pins his shoulders to the couch and tugs his ponytail back to tilt his chin up and kiss him.

Kujen wonders if it's just a crush. Dreams are not the truth, after all. Then again, Jedao has proven himself very easy for any crumbs of affection. The fumbling eager-puppy sweetness would no doubt have him falling over himself in short order.

It's not useful information, though. How to prompt - hm. Foxes are playful. He slides in the thought - Jedao teasing, a biting nip, then hopping up and slipping away. And if the anchor were to look for him, chase after him, where would he go? What paths does he know below memory, automatic-procedural paths?

Jedao slips away and Eiffel gets up to chase him, an easy laugh as he ducks out the door.

It's not love, not as Kujen probably thinks, or expects. It's adoration, it's wanting and it's absolutely erotic, but it's not quite romance. Still the love of a friend, the love of someone important.

And it leads Eiffel downstairs, in front of the engine room door downstairs, and he raps his knuckles on it for a quick shave-and-a-haircut knock. "Hey, big guy," he calls out (mumbles out loud, half-slurred together), "You gonna let me in or what?"

"What's the magic word?" asks Jedao, muffled by the door. What's the password, where's the key. Is there a key, that can be found?

A ripple of amusement, a dry laugh at the tease. "What, 'swordfish' is too good for you now?"

Eiffel doesn't have the key. Jedao does.

Conceptually clear. For anything more useful, he'll probably need the man conscious.

The door opens, and Eiffel falls out of the station into space. A rich vein of nightmare, for him, it appears. But startling enough by contrast, if the man is lucky, to wake him this time.

There's not much more terrifying for a man who's fallen off his spaceship to certain doom multiple times than doing it without a spacesuit.

The abrupt transition makes him startle, into a violent flail as he wakes and throws himself onto his side, ready to shove himself upright. It takes him a moment to realise where he is, in his disparate Earthican bedroom on the Barge, surrounded by movie posters, before he groans and flops onto his back, flopping his hand across his eyes.

"Lady of the night, why do you forsake me," he mumbles, dragging his hand down so he can rub his face with both hands.

Kujen doesn't announce himself immediately. Eiffel might find himself a little less coordinated than usual, but Kujen's muscle memory is less obtrustive than Jedao's, and his anchoring is more subtle. There are signs: Eiffel's, shadow, now, is the swarm of the the Kaleidoscope Moth. And his internal monologue - if he manages to make any of it internal - will sound in his head in a different voice, Kujen's voice.

Until Eiffel notices, though, Kujen will watch and see what he does first.

Oh, to pick the one person who predominantly externalises his internal monologue.

He rolls over to grab his communicator first, checking the time. "Well, probably a little too early to go say hi," he mumbles. "Maybe there's someone crazy bastard in the kitchens already for breakfast."

Honestly, most of his internal monologue is actually music. It doesn't necessarily line up with the words he's singing, as he goes through the motions of a shower, of trimming his beard back down to manageable stubble, but there's a lot instrumentals he's flicking through completely randomly. At the very least, there's no indication whatsoever he's aware of Kujen; even his stumbling co-ordination is easily attributed to the early hour, not a fucking space ghost.

Soon enough, posts start coming through on the communicator: Glenn for Rosita, Octavia for Stolas. Some kind of exotic effect? People summoned by connection. And Jedao is here - and the man he'd woken up with had known Kujen's name, and cared more for destroying him than trying to use him. Jedao has certainly been busy.

Um, hello? He sounds shy, even sweet. A little lost, maybe.

He makes a face at the communicator, actually. This isn't the first time he's seen random people arriving on the ship. "God, is it time for a flood already?"

Eiffel goes to put his communicator away - and then he hears the voice, in his head. And his immediate instinct is to look around for the cause of it. "Uhhh..." His mouth opens, presses shut briefly, and he swallows uncertainly. "Okay, I know I've heard voices in my head before but you're a new one."

I'm Kel Esfarel. A safe name to use; he's sure the revenant Jedao doesn't remember it. I'm kind of a ghost? I don't know how I got here.

Kujen will definitely feel how 'Kel' makes Eiffel's stomach do a complicated but sinking twist.

A flicker of memory passes through his mind, automatic recall, of watching Kujen through Jedao's eyes for the first time - Kel uniform, Kel soldiers, Kel upstarts.

"Ohhh, uhh..." He sucks in air through his teeth, awkward and apologetic. "It, uh. It sounds like you might be here 'cos, uh. Someone you might know was here first, and you've kinda... tapped out with him instead?"

Everyone I know is back on the Revenant. Or...I thought they were.

Jedao's ship, although Eiffel probably doesn't know the name.

What is this place?

"Well-" He swings his arms out in a broad gesture. "Welcome to the Barge. Jail redemption cruise ship in a galaxy beyond space and time, giving all the good boys and girls their wildest dreams and and the naughty kids a second chance to be a good person."

He slips his hands into his jean pockets, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. "You're replacing one of the guys that're kinda-sorta-not-really in charge? He's a warden, like me."

Who? How do you know?

Laying it on a little thick, perhaps. But it's not like he wasn't clueless and disoriented the first time around.

"Because he's the only guy I know who calls people Kel?" he comments, slightly apologetically. "Sorry, his name's Jedao. Only I think he's got a pretty bad rep for it back home, so, uh. I dunno how happy he'll be to see a lot of people from his world? Or to know they swung by."

...you really know the General? Kujen asks, a little nervous, a little starstruck.

He's...I know he was bad before. But when an assassin was after him, he carried his aide to Medical on his back and sounded the alarm, he saved the whole ship!

A deeply mangled retelling of Cheris's assassination attempt. And Jedao had dragged Dhanneth through the halls like a small dog with a giant branch, which had been very funny on the surveillance. And he certainly hadn't saved the ship from Cheris, who had already escaped, at that point. Still, it's an excuse to have the fake visitor like Jedao, and since the anchor also likes Jedao, it'll probably make him more amenable to suggestions.

Eiffel hasn't heard that story before. But something about it pings as so surreally untrue that he actually stops mid-step to frown about it.

Not that he doubts Jedao would have done all of that, if he'd been able to. If the situation had allowed for it. But Jedao had this way of explaining things where even if he did a good thing, the entire situation never sounded like it improved for it. So, saving his friend? Sure. Sounding the alarm? Literally the most basic requirement. Saving everyone...

"Yeah, I mean. He doesn't like being called the general, he's a pretty chill guy once you get to know him. Really big on knit sweaters - wait, do you guys even have wool in the Hexatron?"

You mean...like, from real animals?

Once a farmboy, always a farmboy, apparently. Jedao and his geese and his sheep. Kujen is pretty sure he wouldn't understand the appeal even if he did still have a heart.

"Yeah, exactly. We've got a couple of 'em on deck, some goats and crap. Nothing that actually makes wool but there's probably someone upstairs who can actually tell you more about what they're actually good for? I am not a farm boy, my interest in 'em starts and ends at the dinner table."

It's some good quality rambling, filled with lots of interesting nothingness, which gives him time to use his hands to pull his communicator out instead, typing with both hands to write up a quick message to Hakkai.

hey ive got someone who knows ur man riding shotgun in my head atm 1 to 10 what panic station i should be at

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