explosivecombat | 004. [Text/Action for Goldenrod City]

004. [Text/Action for Goldenrod City]

[ACTION]

[Three days gone, with no explanation.

Kimblee had awakened strangely on Tuesday, feeling as though he hadn't slept much at all, and throughout the day he'd been unable to shake it - it's the same sort of feeling he gets when when he's been overstimulated, maybe, or spent time on a particularly difficult assignment. He would have chalked that up to a simple failure at restful sleep - he's not immune, and it happens - but then he'd checked the Gear for the time and date.

Three days gone. No memories from those three days whatsoever.

That. Doesn't. Happen.

He'd spent most of the day more wary than usual; he doesn't like this any, nor does he like the fact that there's nothing he can do about it. Even the normal solace he finds in sound isn't coming to him; he usually finds the music in Johto to be a nice constant, but now it's just grating on him - hell, he can't even be sure that anyone else is hearing it at all, and that's no use to him whatsoever.

Bluntly put, he's been feeling disoriented, Johto makes next to no damn sense as it is, and this entire thing is leaving him just a bit irritable and not wanting to stay in one place for very long. So! Today he's out wandering around Goldenrod; he doesn't seem too terribly bothered by the snow, though the heavy coat he has on over his suit and the long, pale scarf he has wrapped around his neck and shoved into his collar is definitely helping, as are the gloves he usually wears. He's determined to find something to clear his head; after a while, he finds himself in front of a building that's both stupidly loud and gaudily done-up. He kind of tilts his head at it for a moment; the place is pretty much an exercise in sensory overstimulation, isn't it.

It's perfect.

He pauses for a moment before entering; the music playing softly through the streets is the same as it always was. He doesn't want to ask if anyone else is hearing it; that's just asking for trouble. However, there are ways to get some sort of response without asking directly. He pulls out his Gear briefly, sending out a quick message via Text before entering that...casino. Game Corner. Thing.]

[TEXT]

Has anyone been able to locate the source of the incessant stream of music, or is that another of those mysteries that we're encouraged to not think too much about?

[OOC: Action-wise, you're more than welcome to catch him outside the building itself...otherwise, he fully intends to spend the next good while wanting to kill a slot machine in the face, so he won't exactly be hard to meet up with if he's seen.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes, yes, I'm improving. [Archer waves it off with a smirk; it feels good to play like this--]

[...Hang on. Archer's smirk fades for a moment as he pauses to stop and think about what happened. A dream? Was that it? He never remembers his dreams. He was teasing Kimbley about... something... It's not clear enough to be a memory, but again, he doesn't dream. Archer shakes it off quickly and turns to the slot machine with a frown.]

These things are rigged, Kimbley. Clearly you've gotten the one decent one.

[Oh come on! Why can't you win him a Porygon? Rude. He'll drop it for now though; Kimblee has something much more important to discuss.]

What have you been doing over the last three days? [The question is very specific, of course; Archer doesn't beat around the bush when it comes to being unconscious for three days.] If the time on my 'Gear is correct, I've been asleep for the past three days. What the hell happened?

[He doesn't sound angry, nor does he sound like he's blaming Kimblee. He's just concerned and confused because really, what if someone was trying to poison him or something?]

[Kimblee shakes off the comment regarding the slot machines in favor of Archer's latter questions; he doesn't say anything for a moment, refocusing his gaze on the slot machine for a moment before he replies.]

...so it affected you, too.

[The statement is carefully blank, not revealing his thoughts one way or the other. Just a statement. Nothing else.]

I'm not sure if that's more of a relief, or a valid reason for concern. Perhaps both.

[Archer doesn't reply immediately, frowning a bit at the thought. So Kimblee was out too. It's good that he's not the only one affected, he supposes.]

Yes, that is quite problematic, isn't it?

[The question is rhetorical though, and after a moment Archer continues.]

Did you have any... dreams during that period of time, Kimblee?

Yes, I did.

[Kimblee stops what he's doing entirely after that's out there. Stares at the machine for a second.

And promptly decides to cash out for the evening.]

...I don't think we should discuss that here.

[As far as he knows, Kimblee doesn't dream either. Archer nods at the remark, still frowning.]

That sounds like a good idea. I don't believe you've ever mentioned dreams before.

[He'll just leave that remark there, it's merely a statement, though of course he's searching for some sort of answer there. Not that he'll get it until they're somewhere they won't be overheard, but he can try, at least!]

[Kimblee nods, standing up abruptly; the base works just as well as anywhere else, and at the very least they can have some privacy there.

The routine is familiar, one he generally follows when he wants to talk to Archer alone; the room he's claimed as his is the one he defaults to entering, though in all honesty, they're all pretty much the same. Kimblee hasn't added any personal touches to the room; it doesn't even seem to have occurred to him that he can decorate the damn place, and after seven years of looking at absolutely nothing, he's learned to be content without. Either way, this place really just serves as a place with a door, somewhere that they can talk in relative privacy, with thick enough walls to keep them from being overheard - perhaps it's a good thing that Team Rocket works with so much steel and concrete.

He doesn't sit on the bed, instead choosing to stand by the wall after the door has been closed; he leans back against it, folding his arms across his chest and standing with his one of his legs crossed over the other at the ankle.

His position is casual; the tension flowing through him is not. It's not an obvious difference, but it's there.]

You mentioned dreams...would you like to start, or should I?

[Archer is used to the routine; he's used to spending more time in Kimblee's room, his own isn't decorated either. Unless you count the fur everywhere; the Kimbley-cat sheds an awful lot.]

[Archer hesitates by the door, watching Kimbley move to a standing position. Archer doesn't move, he merely shoves his hands in his pockets, frowning at the floor. He's never been particularly good at reading people - but the tension in the room is hard to miss.]

I suppose I'll start, then. As you know, I never remember my dreams, assuming I even have them to begin with.

[Archer moves to fold his hands behind his back, then he turns to start pacing. He normally stands still while he's talking, but clearly he needs to puzzle this out, and movement of some sort typically helps him think.]

The difficulty I'm having is separating reality from those dreams. I was under the impression that dreams never felt so realistic. The majority of the dreams I've heard about involve some sort of fear; falling, embarrassment, forgetting or losing something important, failure of some sort... those sorts of things. I didn't dream about anything like that.

[He stops short, staring at the door.]

Some details are very hazy and others are perfectly clear. I remember meeting new people and discussing the chimeras here. I don't remember names or faces - I'm usually quite good with the former. I'm willing to accept that was a strangely vivid dream and move on.

My issue is with another part of those dreams entirely. I... dreamed about the other version of you; the one from my world. I don't remember everything, which is frustrating enough, but...

[He trails off for a moment, gaze turning to the floor. His expression softens into something between disappointment and something akin to sorrow. It's gone quickly though, replaced by the frown.]

...What he said still bothers me. It was a damn dream I shouldn't let it bother me...!

[About halfway through all that is when Kimblee starts staring.

The look is open and vaguely incredulous, but it isn't quite like the usual wide-eyed staring that usually indicates that Archer has just said something that Kimblee finds stupid beyond belief; he's still listening and taking everything into account, it's just obvious that what's being said is hitting him very, very strangely.]

Unable to separate them from reality...that sounds more like hallucinations than dreams.

[His tone isn't accusatory or pointed; it's more like he's musing to himself than Archer, though that's quickly remedied with his next statement.]

Whatever they are, you aren't the only person that's been experiencing them; if they're half as vivid as the dreams I've been having, then perhaps I don't blame you for continuing to be disturbed.

[Hallucinations? ...Yes, that would seem to be more accurate than "dreams" in this case... But he's never had them before, and why the hell would he start now? He's not that crazy!]

Oh? And what have your "dreams" been about?

[It's much easier to focus on someone else's problems. Let's playing therapist for Kimblee now! ~~This is when your "This is going to suck" feeling should be kicking in.~~]

[It takes him a moment to respond to that; Archer isn't the only one who finds it far, far easier to discuss other people's problems. Kimblee doesn't usually even consider himself to have problems; this is a new experience in several ways, really.]

...nonsensical things. Creatures that shouldn't exist, for example, or twisted variations on creatures that do exist - there was something strange involving horses at some point; I distinctly remember the horses.

[He pauses for a moment. Somewhat hesitant.]

I don't have nonsensical dreams, Archer. If I dream at all, it's never about things that don't exist - they're often about Ishval, but always about things that have actually happened to me. And these dreams have been like yours - details are very hazy. I don't recall faces.

That latter part is also something that never happens. I have a photographic memory, Archer; you could say that remembering others is a specialty of mine. I don't simply make people up, even in dreams, and I don't forget anyone's face. As such, I find the fact that I don't remember these people to be more disconcerting than the dreams themselves.

[Kimblee's explanation almost makes him want to ask for more details - horses? really? - but he keeps quiet instead, waiting for Kimblee to go on. It doesn't get any better. If anything, it sounds like this has screwed Kimblee up even more than it has Archer. He's frowning by the end of it, looking far more irritated than concerned - but everything always gets channeled into anger eventually for Archer anyway.]

That certainly is problematic, to understate it horribly. How did this happen? Was it just us? Were there others who were unconscious for the past three days and had the same sort of surreal dreams?

[Those are all rhetorical, of course. He knows Kimblee doesn't have the answers either.]

It would probably just be best to forget about it and move on.

[He certainly won't be taking that advice though!]

[Neither will Kimblee.]

...you mentioned your friend saying something to you in these dreams. What did he say that's bothering you so much?

[Oh dammit, can we focus on your issues instead?]

You don't need to concern yourself with it. It was just a dream. Give me a few days and it won't trouble me anymore.

[Obviously he has to remain useful to you! Of course he can't just ignore it like that, but he'll try anything to get out of talking to Kimblee about this!]

That certainly won't be of any help to us now, will it? I don't care to simply try to ignore the fact that you're going to be in a foul mood for several days while you try to get this out of your system; at the very least, humor me and let me know what you're going to be dealing with.

Fine, I'll avoid any sort of contact with you, then.

[Nope, he's not going to break down that easily, Kimblee!]

[.................hold on.]

...well, before you decide to show your superior sense of maturity and disappear entirely, answer something else for me.

[Oh you bitch. He'll let you get away with it for now; there's really no arguing that, unfortunately.]

Go on.

I have no idea what your answer is going to imply when it comes to whatever reality has actually consisted of for the last three days, but morbid curiosity compels me to ask -

You weren't here when I awakened, yet I distinctly remember you sleeping in here Friday night. Where did you wake up on Tuesday morning, and do you recall how you got there?

[Archer doesn't answer right away. It's not a question he really wants to answer because he does know. He's never had any issues with sleep-walking, so this must be a first. He remembers bringing the other Kimbley to his room and sleeping there, and that is where he woke up. It's not exactly a terrible thing, and it might get Kimblee to stop asking about what was said.]

...I woke in my own room. In the dream I brought Kimbley there so we could... discuss things.

[He doesn't remember everything they discussed, and what parts of it he does remember aren't very clear either. Again, it's better left unsaid.]

[...what...]

And you see nothing wrong with that? Archer, you sleep like the dead.

Of course I see what's wrong with it. I'm choosing to ignore it so it doesn't do my head in, thank you.

[...Ar...cher...]

And do I need to point out exactly how much was wrong with that statement, or do you have that one covered as well?

[...Well. It's good to see you're still capable of finding him dumb! ...Except it's really not, can you stop that?]

Again, I don't want to think about it.

Just like you don't want to think about all the other things that are wrong with this world.

How long before another shrieking post on the network, Archer?

There won't be another, Kimblee.

[That was really embarrassing in hindsight, sorry he's a bit defensive about it.]

I prefer to let it be and not question it. There are never any logical answers to anything in this world, anyway.

[Also he prefers to ignore his problems. That totally makes them go away, right?]

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