recinerate | first puzzle

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first puzzle | voice

[beyond was dead, and now he's not.

it's a perplexing position for anyone to find themselves in, of course, but even more so when there's something fundamental about that person that's gone missing - something that should be there, but isn't. beyond has found he is missing such a thing, and has decided to take advantage of the technology of this new place in order to work out his thoughts regarding this dilemma.]

"In the social jungle of human existence, there is no feeling of being alive without a sense of identity."

[his voice is quiet, raspy, almost unnaturally even in tone. he pauses, then picks up with one of many questions currently on his mind, addressing anyone within earshot.]

What shapes your sense of identity?

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[Iris is in her cabin with her dogs, rather unwilling for once to be social, but the unfamiliar voice and his question catch her attention and she thumbs her communicator.]

I do. Nowt else. Welcome aboard, lovey.

What specifically about you? [he ignores the welcome because frankly, he can be rude like that.]

My will. My choices. My fancies.

What about yours, chuck?

My name isn't Chuck. [he's familiar enough with the term, just choosing to misinterpret. beyond spent most of his life in england - winchester, to be exact. years of practice in being invisible means he's worked hard to keep from taking on the accent from his original californian, but a keen ear may be able to hear just a trace around the edges.]

But your middle name's still evasive, eh?

[She says it laughing, and doesn't press the point.]

Iris Wildthyme, transtemporal adventuress, former Miss Scunthorpe, intergalactic darts champion, warden. What shall I call you, then, lovey?

Edited 2015-06-22 23:34 (UTC)

[beyond's eyes narrow at the word warden. he's spent the past year and a half in prison; he knows exactly what a warden is, and the implications the title holds. he briefly considers giving her a false name, but decides it's ultimately pointless. he no longer has any other names to claim for himself.]

You may call me Beyond.

[it's his chosen name - not the name his parents gave him, not any of the names he used while in training to learn L's methods, not even the name he took for his identity in challenging L, a direct perversion of the detective's best known handle. beyond birthday is the name he christened himself, because he sees death and always has, ever since he was born.

or at least he had, before he died and woke up on this ship. he hasn't seen many others in person, but the names and string of numbers signifying their spans of life are gone. it's a turn of events beyond finds both frightening and frustrating.]

Beyond all expectations? Beyond belief? Brother Beyond? One Step Beyond?

I like it. It's got a ring to it. Tell me, is your cabin satisfactory? Only sometimes they're not, when you're new.

[flatly:] Beyond Birthday. My cabin is fine, Iris, thank you.

[compared to the prison cell he's been calling home? this is downright luxurious.]

That's definitely got a ring to it. I'll wait and find out what shaped your identity more organically, shall I? Meantime, 'as anyone given you the pamphlet or showed you around, at all?

No. I wasn't aware there was an orientation committee.

One of my very favourite things about working 'ere is that no bugger ever tries to waste my time and energy faffing about with committees. But we do 'ave a pamphlet. Our Chromie wrote it, years back. I've been meaning to rewrite it with my own spin on things, but meantime it's an extremely useful set of general guidelines.

Meet us up on deck and I'll sort you out a copy, it's 'igh time I gave the dogs a good run anyway. You all right with dogs, Mister Birthday?

Beyond is fine.

[he's never been a mister before, and it sounds strange to his ears.

the offer for information, though - that's too good of a thing to pass up. his instincts may be rusty from months and months of disuse, rotting in a jail cell, but they're not forgotten. collect and analyze all the available data.]

I should be able to manage. What sort of dogs are they?

[For answer, Iris switches on her video feed to show herself and the dogs: she's a tiny blonde lady, somewhat disheveled although her clothes are bright-coloured, gold and fuchsia and pink silks and satin python-print leggings. She shares her couch with two large German Shepherds, curled on each side of side of her and peering curiously into the video screen.]

This one's Elvis and this is 'is brother Solace and they've both 'ad a lot of practise remembering their manners 'round strangers; they'll be fine. See you up there in five!

[beyond takes in all the details of iris' appearance from the video feed - he has a good memory, and she'll be easy to spot, especially with the dogs to set her apart from anyone else who might be on the deck. he'll keep the element of surprise for himself, though; he replies with voice only.]

See you then.

[he takes his time climbing his way up the stairs to the deck, arriving in ten minutes instead of five. it's a subtle thing, meant to set her a little off guard from the start, the same way he hadn't sent an image of himself ahead on the feed so she would know who to watch for.

as predicted, iris is easy to find once he reaches the deck. beyond shuffles his way toward her - a slouch in his posture, though not as pronounced as the one he affected around naomi misora. he is dressed plainly, in loose-fitting jeans and dark grey long-sleeved t-shirt; his black hair sticks out in odd intervals, disheveled, as if he's never seen a hairbrush in his life. his hands are both crammed into the front pockets of his jeans. he is tall and thin and pale; his eyes are dark, wide, unblinking.

he approaches, but keeps a wary distance between himself and iris and her dogs. beyond acknowledges iris with a slow nod.]

Iris.

[Iris is leaning on the door to the Enclosure, smoking a pink-and-gold Sobranie cocktail cigarette. The dogs notice Beyond first, and Iris, alerted by their pricked ears and tails brushing the deck plates, straightens up and grins.]

'Ey there Beyond, lovey. I found you the pamphlet, 'old on, it's 'ere somewhere.

[She spends a moment digging through her pockets, finding and replacing a hip flask, several lipsticks, a sharpie and some dog treats before she finally offers him the pamphlet in question.]

...I forgot to ask if you smoke. Let us know if you want ciggies, I'll 'ave a couple of boxes sent to your cabin. This 'ere's the Enclosure - it's actually a sort of holographic virtual environment but it's advanced enough even I can't tell it from the real thing. You can use it for combat practise or just to be outdoors - any particular environment strike your fancy?

Edited (spacebar) 2015-06-24 17:39 (UTC)

Thank you. I've never smoked before. [not cigarettes, at least. he'd smoked plenty when he set himself on fire.

beyond cautiously moves forward to take the pamphlet from her, grasping the paper delicately between the tips of two fingers and his thumb, still sharply watching the pair of dogs. he flips it open and absorbs the words from cover to cover at an unnaturally fast pace, finishing the entire document in less than a minute. his eyes narrow as he reads, a churning mixture of anger and injustice building deep in his gut as they take in the words printed on the page and his quick brain processes their meaning.

he hears iris ask another question, but it falls from his focus for the moment. the indignity before him consumes his entire attention.]

This is preposterous. [there's no betrayal of the simmering rage under his skin in his flat tone as he pronounces these words. beyond is skilled at hiding things from the world; his emotions are one of the first things he learned to secret away.]

Edited 2015-06-24 19:13 (UTC)

[She organises the Enclosure while he reads, picking an open park landscape with the sort of forestation that only happens in real life with fulltime groundskeepers. The dogs take off ecstatically into the green: they've had to make so with the deck for exercise for weeks and they're going to go nuts, thank you very much.]

Which part, sweetheart? Or d'you mean the entire concept?

All of it. [especially the part where he is expected to work toward redemption. he has done nothing for which he needs to redeem himself, he thinks. beyond turns his head up from the pamphlet to stare at iris.] How was this information compiled?

Chromie wrote it. I didn't much like the tone she took around some things, but it's a good overview of the facts - the floods and breaches and the day to day, you know? I've been 'ere almost three years, you 'ave no idea how old it gets explaining them.

Three years? [he tilts his head, sharpens his gaze.] You've been content to waste three years of your life on this nonsense? [he points to the pamphlet to punctuate the word nonsense.]

[Iris' grin broadens, and she eyes Beyond coolly.]

Nonsense of this quality's 'ard to find, I'll 'ave you know. The real life version's a lot more fun. I'm very fond of Chromie, but she couldn't've coloured outside the lines if 'er life depended on it. That's why I thought I might rewrite the pamphlet; she makes it sound like a sausage factory.

And no, sweetheart. I'm very rarely content and I 'aven't wasted a second.

Edited 2015-06-25 23:17 (UTC)

You're overly familiar.

[beyond makes a hard shift in topic; if anyone ever called him sweetheart, it was too long ago for him to remember. he finds it uncomfortable - utterly foreign.]

We've only just met. Do you talk to everyone like this?

Aye, I do. Never was one for formalities. I could promise to try not to do it to you, but honestly, I'd never remember for more than five minutes.

Then it's probably best not to make a promise you can't keep.

[he folds the pamphlet in half and sticks it away in the back pocket of his jeans.]

Thank you for the information, Iris.

There's a lot that's preposterous about this place. I'm sorry you didn't 'ave a choice being brought 'ere; I'm sorry you're stuck for the time being. I'll promise you two things: it won't be forever, and me and a whole bunch of other folk'll be doing our best to make it go as well as possible while you're 'ere. I know it's not much, but them two are the ones I know I can keep.

[She's fishing an assortment of tennis balls and squeaky toys out of her own pockets, which appear to be able to hold a lot more than looks plausible without bulging.]

Coming in for a run? Or a walk. You don't 'ave to stick with me and the lads.

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recinerate - 2015-06-27 13:20 (UTC) - Expand

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first puzzle | voice

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