sixwordstories | (no subject)

On...?

Oh, no, my dear, sweet Carlos, that was just a fact.

[His answer is matter-of-fact, as if the explanation is obvious and Carlos is being a little ridiculous for having to ask.]

Two of them are capable of agreeing on at least one point, but the third one never quite seems to get on the same page. It makes it a little difficult to draw maps.

[Maybe if your little berg didn't keep killing them off and/or eating them when they came through they might have an easier time reaching a consensus, Cecil. Just saying.]

That would explain why not only is Night Vale incredibly hard to find from the outside, but also that so few maps of the town itself exist for research purposes. [Thankfully, Carlos has found that Night Vale is so flat that standing on the roof of an especially tall building generally gives a decent view of all major landmarks. The ones that don't move or suddenly disappear anyway.] The fact that your geography is somewhat...inconsistent is probably the cause of the trouble.

Maybe! I've never really thought about it before, I always thought it was more to do with City Council. But that would make sense, it is difficult to navigate with one when North isn't always North.

[And then Cecil looks puzzled, frowning slightly as his head tilts in question.]

But everything is always exactly where it's supposed to be. Even the invisible clock tower. Why would you want to pin it down like that?

[He's more deeply curious than anything else though, as if he'd never really considered a landscape that was more fixed. He likes hearing about the strange world Carlos is from where everything operates completely differently.]

I mean it's not that one wants to, I guess. [Carlos says. He feels like he always has to speak very, very carefully with Cecil. For one thing, he's not as articulate as his beloved radio show host and for another he doesn't want to offend Cecil by suggesting that anything is wrong with Night Vale necessarily, just different. It's only that in other places things don't really...shift around, the way they do here and if you're not used to things like that it can make it very easy to get lost, or confused.

[He would still love Carlos even if he offended him. Cecil loves Carlos in spite of the fact that he chews a little too loudly and sometimes puts Science first. Loves him even though he often seems to have great difficulty understanding how things work in Night Vale and insists that Science is a serious vocation and mountains are a thing. Nobody's perfect in everything, and it's accepting their flaws that makes them perfect anyway. So now the broadcaster only leans forward, every inch of him listening with rapt attention, nodding as the conversation seems to dictate before responding himself, brightly.]

Well then it's a very good thing you have me in your life to help you avoid such a horrible tragedy, isn't it? It wouldn't be very good for anyone if I let Night Vale's resident scientist wander off somewhere potentially horrifying and dangerous.

[Because apparently, as far as Cecil is concerned, anyway, there's only one scientist.]

Like the woods, for example. Who knows what lurks in there, and after that nasty business at the bowling alley...

[He's incredibly sad for a moment, as if he died after all, but no, that was averted.

He pauses in thought for a long moment, considering, then, hopeful:]

Maybe...we could try to make a map ourselves? It can't be too difficult, can it? It's kind of...science-y, right?

[ When Cecil looks so terribly sad Carlos feels a phantom pain in his chest and all the other little spots where he bears scars from that night at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. The night had been one of discovery and terror and self-realization and, lastly, of the happiness in finally admitting, returning, Cecil's feelings. He awkwardly pats the man's shoulder to soothe the sadness away. He breaks into one of his smiles when Cecil makes his suggestion.]

We could. If you wanted. Do you enjoy doing science with me?

[It's an unconscious impulse that prompts him to follow the contact, leaning into the scientist's weight like a cat, taking any little scrap of affection as an invitation, although he's content just to sit. It's as much reassurance for himself as it is for the other, solid proof that, even for as strange and upsetting as things get, as unusual and terrifying as every day is in some capacity, it's at least real. Or as real as anything can be said to be in Night Vale, anyway. He smiles in return, pleased at the reception, pleased there's a reception to be made.]

Mostly. Sometimes it's boring, like those experiments when you pour things into other things and sit and watch them for a while? Or just sit at your desk and play with measuring devices and tweasers? But the ones where something explodes or grows are fun. And I like the ones where you don't have to sit in the lab for hours. But I like spending time with you more. And you like doing science. So...I like doing science with you, yes.

[When Cecil leans into his touch, he allows it to turn into a full-blown gesture and runs his hand over Cecil's shoulders. It's always reassuring when Cecil responds. Of course he believes that Cecil has-- sometimes bewilderingly intense-- feelings for him but he's very grateful for strong indicators that he's doing right with things like physical gestures of affection and such. Sometimes the feedback is embarrassing-- like everyone in Night Vale finding out he sometimes chews too loudly-- but he's grateful for it nonetheless.]

I will make some arrangements and plans and maybe we can work on this mapping project together.

[Cecil sighs, content; after a year of hoping and wishing, even this, as little as it might seem, is enough. He'll accept what he gives willingly and give him all the feedback he needs in return. Maybe not quite the way he wants it, but then he's always had some difficulty identifying where exactly the "too honest" line lies.]

Really? I'd like that. ...hopefully we won't run into any shadow people this time. It was so rude of them to interrupt.

[This new revelation gains a fair amount of curiosity, however, an upturned face with a confused expression mixed with a certain amount of awe; Science always seems so complicated.]

What kind of arrangements and plans? They sound important and official. I thought it was only a matter of walking around and drawing what things look like.

Well I mean...we should plan for it, right? Set aside the time. Procure surveying equipment? [He suggests. Still very set in his ways, even though nothing in Night Vale is set at all. And he keeps petting Cecil's back, finding he likes very much to do so.]

I think the last group might have left theirs behind when they, well, left. It's probably at city hall.

[He frowns at that, unsettled, unsure it's the best idea after all. Nobody ever goes there for good reasons. Re-education, yes. Innocuous visits...not so much. He shifts his weight, hums in approval as he moves to encourage the attention. Reaches for Carlos' unoccupied hand to return the favor.]

But I'm sure there's a way to get it. Forms to fill out and things.

I'll do everything according to the proper channels [Carlos promises, giving his shoulder a squeeze.] I might need some help navigating those proper channels because Night Vale bureaucracy is still a bit of a mystery to me, but I'll do it right, I promise. Won't get myself in trouble.

Edited 2013-10-01 17:13 (UTC)

I'll help! I wouldn't want you to get in trouble either, and neither would the rest of Night Vale. Who would do Science, who would worry about the weirdness that plagues the city? Who would....study the watches, and keep track of time?

[He cannot help but grin at Cecil's effusive speech.]

Of course, yes. We wouldn't want any of that. [He runs his hand over the watch on his wrist. His own watch, from outside, the one true time-piece in all of Night Vale.] I'll make sure to get your help with all the forms and such.

Worse yet, what would the city do without your perfect hair? It would be a travesty. Do you have any idea how rare that is to find?

[He might be laying it on a little thick now, but it's difficult to tell when he's this earnest. He runs a hand up into it, fingering it adoringly, but his eyes are on the watch. Curious.]

Why are you so interested in the time here anyway? It runs forward, isn't that all you really need? There's morning, afternoon, night. All the in-between times. I mean, not to...I'm sure it's very important that it does, but...why?

You know, I don't know. When I came here it was the strangest thing about the place. Now I think I only notice out of habit. I feel so removed from the world that I left, and the only reminder of it that I have is knowing that the sun should be this place or that place in the sky at this or that time. Just a strange habit, I guess.

Also how do you operate without actual clocks, I mean really?

Well it isn't like we open them ever. [He gives a small, self-conscious laugh, but he'd never really thought about it before. Had never thought it was something that needed to be thought about. Not until Carlos and all his Science and Scientific Questions and Experiments.] We don't need to. They work, and that's the important thing. Just like how time happens and the sun comes up and goes down. Things don't have to be...real to exist.

[But it's a careful response, with an uncertain edge to it; it's a dangerous thing to say, really. To admit things that supposedly don't exist are extant.]

You believe in all kinds of things you can't see, right? Things that aren't real?

I guess if you didn't know that the time here was different from outside, it doesn't really matter, does it? [He says, sounding a bit tired. He blinks at Cecil when his boyfriend asks the question.]

I don't know, Cecil. [He began.] After all, I believe in molecules, and atoms and sub-atomic particles. And I can't see those, can I?

(( ooc: quite alright! Now might be a good time to mention that I'm going to NYCC this week so I will be gone from Wed. morning to Mon. night.))

And mountains. And the moon. And...gravity.

[But he picks up on the change in tone; he might be oblivious to a lot of things, might have trouble trying to see the same world Carlos does, but that doesn't mean there isn't overlap. Doesn't mean he can't tell when Night Vale and all its seemingly obscure rules get to be too much for the other even if he can't quite understand why. So he shifts in his seat, straightening from his lean to meet his gaze, fingers trailing down from their restless rhythm through his hair to cup his cheek, smiling reassuringly.]

Oh, Carlos. Of course it matters. Everything matters. No matter how small or seemingly inconsequential; looking up at the void in the night sky, beyond the stars, or inside a lot of the machinery here, it's easy to argue it doesn't matter. Because it just absorbs everything in its blackness until there's just it and stars and nothing. But it always matters. It always matters what's underneath or inside or between. That's why you're here. Because you know it does, and you would even if nobody else could see it. You'll find a reason. You'll make it matter.

//Noted! Have fun!

But I mean, it doesn't matter to people in Night Vale in the same way it matters to me? [He says, trying to articulate his feelings.] For you, Night Vale just is. Like the thing with the clocks, you never opened them because they never seemed strange. Because you trusted that it was right when it needed to be. Only to me did it seem wrong, and out of sync with my own understanding of time. But my understanding of time as it works outside of Night Vale isn't applicable here, is it? So why do I keep checking my watch? Noting the time as it 'should be'?

What is my work here going to accomplish? [Oh dear, your boyfriend's gone all existential on you, Cecil.]

[He heaves a small sigh because he doesn't KNOW, Carlos, he doesn't know why everyone else accepts it but you seem so fixated on how it Should Be. He doesn't know why it isn't the same to start with. He reaches for the watch, traces along its face as if it's the most important artifact in the entire town and maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but for the moment it can be. He speaks slowly and carefully, somewhere between his Radio Voice and his normal one, but this is Important. How he answers is Important. And the answer's so obvious to him, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't be careful with it. Answers are fickle things, more dangerous than most people realize, even if they're good ones.]

Everything. You've already learned so much, studied so much about us. You understand more about our little berg, at least from the Science perspective, than anyone here ever has. We don't look because we know we won't understand it, like the void or the lights above Radon Canyon or that little transdimensional hole behind the record store. Because we don't need to. Because it's how things work here and always has been, we don't need Science to tell us why. That's what City Council is for. But you do because you need your own answers, and that's so beautiful and brave and rebellious. Of course your work here is going to accomplish something. I...don't know what, and it's entirely possible it will be something terrifying and potentially dangerous, but it might not be. You came here because we were the most "scientifically interesting" place, right? So...maybe something with that. Maybe you'll write about us. And tell all your scientist friends. And they'll be so impressed, and then it really will matter.

[Carlos watches Cecil's fingers trace his watch and it settles him a little bit. Cecil is always so patient with him, with those moments where Night Vale gets to him a little more than he's capable of processing. Sometimes he makes fun of him for his outsider opinions (like the fact that mountains, and snow, exist) but when he speaks to him, Carlos feels himself become centered again, focusing on that sweet, soft voice. The one that can speak of the most unfathomable horrors with perfect calmness and clarity. And in this case with such perfectly careful emphasis, so that Carlos would know what he was saying was Important (funny, how one can hear the capitalizations in Cecil's voice when he wants to emphasize the importance of things). He listens carefully, his head resting on Cecil's shoulder, and takes a deep breath.]

If I ever go back to the outside, I cannot begin to imagine the greater scientific community's reaction to my findings here. If I ever make sense of them.

[He laughs, somewhat nervously but also in a tone that suggests a kind of relief.]

Do you really think I'm beautiful and rebellious and brave? [He asks, with a smile, reaching for Cecil's hand.]

[It's Cecil's turn to put an arm around him now, to hold him close as he laces their fingers together. When Carlos smiles like that he's radiant, as perfect as the first time he'd seen the scientist; metaphorically, his heart swells to bursting with pride and love, that there could be someone so gloriously wonderful and smart and talented in the world and that he is his, at least in a non-legislated and purely emotional way. Literally, his heart beats hard and his nerves tingle.]

If anyone can make sense of it, you can.

And you are. All of those and more. Most people would accept the fact that we aren't supposed to acknowledge the dog park and that holidays are dangerous and worry about the Sheriff's Secret Police watching their every move, or at least plan their personal activities and investigative pursuits accordingly so they don't conflict with their goals. But you look into those things anyway. You take measurements and try to go places you probably aren't supposed to be and you pursue your Science no matter what anybody thinks about it and no matter what the rules say about it. You explore underground cities and study mountains and mirages and everybody else holes up in their homes because City Council suggests it's best for everyone but you go out there, and you study it. You do Science to it. Even if it's scary and dangerous and might get you re-educated or worse. I mean...you try to brew your coffee without doing all the appropriate chants and bloodlettings first, and it's adorable but rebellious too.

[And then his words dip into awed, eyes of indeterminate color shining so bright with his adoration and pride, both echoed in his chest, he's sure he will probably burst at some point, or at least get a citation for something. He squeezes his beloved Carlos' hand; he can only articulate so much and it doesn't seem like enough but it will have to do for now.]

How could you possibly think you aren't any of those things?

[Carlos can't help the way he melts. Sometimes he feels bad for not being as effusive and verbose as his dear Cecil, for being perhaps to economical with his words. But it always turns him into a happy little puddle (metaphorically speaking) when Cecil goes on like this.]

Then I won't ever stop. [He promises.] No matter how confusing or scary it might be sometimes. [He says, grinning as he looks up into those beautiful color-out-of-space eyes. And he can't help but kiss him again. Quick and shy and close-lipped as he had kissed him on their date and he leans away and blushes.]

You're wonderful, you know?

So long as you don't get into trouble; confusion and fear are all normal, natural responses, but it's a far cry from what they can do. Rebellion's only fun if no-one gets hurt.

[The kiss doesn't last anywhere near as long as he would like, but it doesn't stop him from enjoying what there is, or from grinning like a giddy teenager in the aftermath. It's nice when he isn't the one making overtures, reassurance that he isn't the only one invested in this. Not that he doubts Carlos' interest, of course, not now, but every time is like a little victory, a war of emotions and affections in which there are only winners. He catalogs every one of them, squirrels them away like they are precious jewels, every moment of it, from impulse to the everpresent shyness that inevitably overwhelms; it's highly likely he'll share it later, on the air, gush about the conversation in detail for the entire town to scrutinize, but for now it's just theirs. Only them. The radio host squeezes the scientist's hand again, tracing along his opposite shoulder with his other hand.]

I only report what I see. It's my job, you know. It would be dishonest of me to say anything else.

[Carlos squeezes his hand in return and inclines his head on top of Cecil's. He just wants to sit with him like this, for a bit, draped loosely about one another. He finds in moments like this that he loves Cecil dearly, and probably has for a lot longer than he admitted to himself. He knows that, later, this moment will be broadcast, shared, and it will be flustering, embarrassing. He will probably turn red and sink down in his chair at his desk while his junior scientists (the ones who can still speak, anyway) will tease and laugh. But he will also know how happy he has made Cecil, that all of the radio host's joy and affection will be too much for his delicate, deer-like form to contain and it will just spill out onto the airwaves. And that will make Carlos very, very happy.]

[He leans into the reassuring weight of him, just soaks in his presence, his irrefutable there-ness like a lizard basking in the desert sun, or a cactus, roots plunged deep into the sand and dirt, soaking in what water they can find. It's harder for him to keep silent, to sit without speaking, without moving, to just be; it's why he has the job he does, presumably, one where he does nothing but speak and describe and fill the silence with words and ideas, because it is like trying to contain the gas in a shaken soda can, pressurized and restricted until it can no longer be confined, until it seeps out through the cracks to where there is more room for it and at least words are, can be, less dangerous. Or at least more easily fixed than actions. Wiped out, erased from the spaces they occupy and the ears that receive them. The mouths that spoke them.

But for now, he will be content, and more importantly silent. Will lean and absorb and exist in this moment, unlike other moments.]

[After a bit, one of Carlos' rough sighs breaks the silence and he buries his face in the fluff of Cecil's hair. He releases his hand, flexing his own, looking down at his fingers as they curl and uncurl, the muscles under the skin of his arm. His watch bobbing on his wrist as he moves. He reaches over and unfastens the buckle, the webbing of the watch strap worn and fraying around the edges.]

Here. Hold out your hand.

(ooc: it was in the expo hall (which had WAY too many people in it and it was almost impossible to walk around) and I was so embarrassed I'd bumped into someone I was too flustered to really register who it was until I was already a whole row of booths away. Wompwomp.

Also you write beautifully, just gonna put that out there.)

[His eyes go wide, surprise mixed with confusion, the two warring across his face. It's easy to read the radio host, everything always painted so clearly, every bone in him completely guileless, expressions transparent and instantaneous. Because it's useless to attempt deceit in a place with such a low tolerance, where your every move is watched, cataloged. Where truth, imposed or real, is the best place to live because nothing is guaranteed past this moment in time and lies will gain you nothing anyway. He looks up at the scientist, brow furrowed, but holds out his hand all the same.]

Are we doing an experiment?

[Because it can't be what it looks like. It's the only real timepiece, Carlos had said so himself. The only one. It's Important.]

//ooc: awwww BUT STILL that is awesome anyway.

nghh Thanks c: You write a fantastic Carlos!

Um. No, actually. [He says, fastening the watch around Cecil's wrist, tightening the strap until it doesn't look like it's going to slip off violently during one of the radio host's dramatic gestures.] I want you to have this, I think.

[He chews his lip, uncertain, the confidence he usually projects slipped a few notches when he isn't busy being The Voice of Night Vale, although even then it isn't that large a difference, usually. He watches the proceedings intently then looks up at Carlos again.]

I know it's our anniversary and everything [ - okay so it's only one month, he can be happy about it anyway, it's not like he hasn't been keeping track - ] but...this is the only real one. You said so yourself. Are you sure?

[He traces across the face of it again, with more reverence this time.]

Yes. [Carlos says, frowning thoughtfully as he fidgets with the watchband until he's satisfied with its fit.] Yes, I am. I want you to have this.

Oh, Carlos.

[It's half sigh, half squeal, and it gains the scientist a tight embrace and an enthusiastic but brief kiss followed by a giant grin when he pulls away.]

It's wonderful. I'll be sure to take good care of it, and now I'll know exactly what time it is all the time. Even when Night Vale itself isn't sure.

...I got you something too, but it's not quite as exciting.

Edited 2013-10-15 21:32 (UTC)

And I'll stop obsessively checking my watch, accept time in Night Vale as it is, and move onto the deeper mysteries. [And in doing so, embrace his life in Night Vale.]

See? You're practically one of us already.

Not really but...I think I will be happier this way. More focused.

[He leans over and kisses Cecil's cheek.]

And now you have a little reminder of me when we're both at work.

I said practically. I like that you're not really. It's...neat.

[Ugh there's that word again. He looks sheepish for a moment, because who uses that word like that, but keeps going anyway.]

I mean. You wouldn't...do what you do. If you were really...native, I guess. I like that you're different from everyone else. That you don't see things like they do.

[He brightens, both under the affection and the idea.]

Not that I need one. But I do! I'll take really good care of it, I promise.

[By contrast, Carlos hopes he never stops saying "neat", ever. He leans over to kiss him again because suddenly that seems to be something he wants to do very much.]

I'm sure you will. [Even if he doesn't, it's not like it does Carlos much good. The GPS in it doesn't really work either, and none of the other scientific readings it provides are at all stable or accurate, probably.]

[He'll in no way complain; it's a pursuit he very much enjoys himself. If anything he only takes advantage, leans in, draws it out longer, lingering in shared airspace.]

Mine just kind of seems silly in comparison. But the first month is the bloodstone anniversary and the one I found was bleeding just the right amount and I didn't think you had one yet.

[Hey he will TREASURE those false scientific readings okay, don't doubt that he will.]

You're right. I don't have any. Um...should I get one for you? I don't even know where to find them..

Oh! Most of the major stores have them. You only have to be careful they're made by the only licensed and approved bloodstone factory in Night Vale; sometimes people try to sell cheap knockoffs, and...well. They're kind of dangerous. Not to mention illegal.

I already have one, and a whole circle as is mandated. The watch is just perfect, you don't have to get me anything else.

I will keep a wary eye out. [Now to figure out where to build a bloodstone circle that he has no idea how to use in his tiny apartment.]

Thank you. One more thing to help me settle into Night Vale. [Cecil gets another kiss on the cheek. Goodness he seems to be in an affectionate mood just now.]

Mmhmm. I'll help, don't worry.

[Maybe he gets the tiny concern, unvoiced, maybe he only assumes what the next uncertainty in the whole thing would be, it doesn't really matter. It's sincere all the same. A point which he demonstrates further with a reassuring hand carefully placed on his knee and a pleased smile.

Seriously, Carlos, you are just a bubble of love today, and Cecil's happy to soak it in and encourage as fitting.]

Thanks. We can go looking for more stones some weekend when we're not working? [He suggests, leaning closer and resting his head on Cecil's shoulder, resting his own hand over the one on his knee.]

You mean it? I'd like that. Get them all settled in for you...we'll have to find you a handbook, obviously, so you don't accidentally summon something you don't mean to...

[He holds him close, tracing fingertips along his shoulder, his arm, almost absently as he speaks; he'll keep going, ramble about all the little details, the care and keeping, so to speak, with a cheerful tone because he's so pleased about the whole thing. It's another thing that makes this real. Solid; if he has one, he won't leave when they finish their research, maybe.]

You could show me how to use it. [He says, brightly.] I'm curious about how they work and should like to observe someone who knows how to use one.

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sorry for the delay! work ate me for a bit there :/

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back! also I literally bumped into Cecil Baldwin >.>

welcome! and EEEE that is awesome. I mean awkward for literal collision but eee

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Aaaah sorry about the wrong account ><

/pat pat s'all good!

Re: /pat pat s'all good!

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