multiversallogs | i wrote this song while i was drunk

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i wrote this song while i was drunk

Who: Jae and you.
What: Sorting his head out, getting back to work.
Where: Various places around town, including bar hopping and slice of life activities in Creekside, at work at the Vault, Anarchy 99, and the radio station, and at a temple in Brock Marsh.
When: Over the next week.
Notes: Would you like to bump into Jae somewhere? Note the location/vague timeline in your tag and it shall be so.
Warnings: Unpleasant thoughts about rape culture, drug use.

In the aftermath of attempting to help Megan and his encounter with Hilmi, Jae has a difficult time processing the series of events as things that happened to him - because things haven't happened to him. Things happened to Megan. Sure, if you hit a vanity with a sledgehammer, it's not just the glass that's cracked, but he's still not the fucking mirror; Jae's reeling from the turbulence. So is everyone else who knows (well, maybe not Sonja) and everyone else who will know - and more people will react to what Jae did, and so on, and so on, like ripples, because every time anyone does something violent or cruel, the whole of their world feels it. Society didn't become soulless overnight. It took a hundred million weeks like these and now, even when people feel the backlash, they don't seem realize it.

It's normal.

(It's horrible.)

Jae buys a couple of tabs at the Vault before his shift and rolls all the way through it. If there's one thing he appreciates about Baedal, it's that so much more is perfectly legal (or at least, perfectly unregulated), and the ecstasy (or space ecstasy) he can get is pure, none of this shit cut with coke or speed like he had to worry about back at home. It's a good night for everybody, which is fortunate; it's always good when he works whether or not he uses any enchantments, but this week, he's not even letting his subconscious do anything - he feels like there's a great gaping wound somewhere intangible inside him, and the stitches keep splitting. He just doesn't want to bleed anymore.

While he's been made one of the floor staff family with ease at the Vault, his experiences at Anarchy 99 have been more - well. It caters to dwarven metal. Still, there's a fair amount of enthusiasm for his style ("Just put some more INXS on it"), and when one of the waitresses asks him what happened that one night with Hilmi (because he hasn't come back), he just shrugs. Jae isn't sure if he should be feel fortunate that she's the only one who noticed they walked out back together, but while some of the girls liked Hilmi, some of them really didn't, and she decides to interpret that shrug as him having done everybody a favor. The notion of it makes him uneasy - but it's not like he can correct her and not lie, so he just stays quiet, and thinks about the same thing he thought about that night. That if somebody comes to arrest him, he'll just go. The notion of being locked up is like a suffocating nightmare at the end of a long and dark hallway on his head, but what's even more terrifying is the idea of becoming the kind of person who wouldn't take responsibility for doing something awful. (He'll ask Ilde for Sonja's number, he decides. He'd rather apologize to her than the police, and he knows enough about the military to know speaking to someone's commanding officer is as good as.)

Too much liquor, long nights, and investing in a pill cutter; Jae almost feels human again, losing himself in work. The radio station is a hilarious disaster, but he likes his boss, as much of a lunatic as she is. That he's at the bottom of the ladder again makes him feel like even more a child, stumbling over himself and his magic and his emotions as he is in this strange place. But there, it's not as bad. He hits the bar across the way from his flat in Creekside, he buys groceries and a new pair of sunglasses, and then he comes home ("home") and lays on the floor and stares up at the ceiling and pretends his head spins because he's been drinking too much.

He doesn't sleep for two nights, and then spends the third up and reading the book that appeared in the arrival room with him. It's the first time he touched it since he shoved it in the back of his closet when he moved in. The next evening, he goes to one of Shada's temples in Brock Marsh, and doesn't do anything beside sit quietly in the back.

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Being a DJ who works both on radio and in clubs, Jae's tastes are broad, and his favorites are a bit more diverse than one might imagine, looking at him. After a strict childhood that focused on communist ideals and Confucian values, music (and art, and poetry, and...) has been something he's clung to, fascinated.

"How've you been doing, being here?" He takes a sip of his drink, maybe contemplative. "I don't usually see many other new people out this far."

It seems like they all cluster together near the arrival inn. (Which you could not pay him to go back to.)

"Pretty good, I guess. The person who let me outta the arrival room helped me get a job, so I've been focusing on that," Well, that and being Batgirl, but that's definitely not a topic for polite conversation, "I was looking at an apartment nearby, but I decided against it."

Because of the exact reason Jay said - it's too far out.

It takes him a second to realize he's being addressed, so he misses the first half of whatever the other man says; but the time he hits pause and gently removes one ear bud, he's missed the entire thing.

"What?" It's probably the device so he tilts it, a silent question - did he miss an inquiry about this thing? "Do you have one?"

"I guess it's an acquired taste," he admits, of Creekside. "It's kind of a pain getting to work, but it's good for hangovers." The quiet area and easy access to all these little shops and markets, he means. There's breathing room, which he sometimes desperately needs - he keeps wondering when it's going to ease up, when he's going to fully relax after the horror of being trapped in the arrival room, or fix the turmoil in whatever metaphysical center of him is off-balance now. Maybe it's not going to happen.

"-Can I get you anything else, by the way?" He's already raising a hand, lazy, to get the bar tender's attention, having drained the drink he was working on by now.

"Normally I'd like it, but I wanna be more central for now," She's used to the quiet of suburbia, but Batgirl needs the high rises and dark alleys that the city centre supplies, "Where d oyou work?"

She shakes her head, her wine mostly neglected, "I'm good, thanks anyway." She used to drink a fair bit, when she was younger and more reckless, but since starting the vigilante thing she's pretty much given it up.

Jae nods, and just orders something for himself. Someday, he'll find a way to cope with his anxiety that is not 'dull everything with chemicals'. That day is not today. "I have nights at Anarchy 99 and the Vault, and I work at the KBS building in Kinken," he says - it sounds like a lot, but with his club jobs at one night a week each, it's actually pretty light. "Weekends, if you listen to classical 3am until the morning talk radio, that's me."

Riveting, truly - and a somewhat funny contrast, since as the clubs he's listed cater to dwarven metal and public sex, respectively. (Ah, show business.)

"You?"

Edited 2012-01-21 08:38 (UTC)

"That's a varied workload, I'll have to tune in next time I'm up at 3am," which is surprisingly almost... every night, considering she easily stays out that late, "Is that how you know Megan, through the Vault?"

She gives a little shrug, her work isn't nearly as interesting, "I work at the TMU library, and I'll be trying to start a bit of a seamstress business when I get settled in an apartment."

It might be a bit too much to take on, but she's kind of paranoid about running out of money.

"Mm, I actually met her when I first showed up." She'd been endlessly sweet to him, and hadn't given him shit about how nervous he was about the entire ordeal of coming to Baedal. Jae doesn't understand how people can pop into that room and just be calm about it - but clearly they're better at handling shit than he is. (He never thinks clearly they've never been a prisoner, because what the hell does he know?)

"Seamstressing? That's pretty cool. There's a lot of recycled clothing stores, I get the impression there's not much in the way of fabric production here." So: a good market.

"She'd be a good person to give the welcome speech," Steph's impression of Megan is that she's ridiculously friendly, and not everyone has experience with weird time travel and different universes, so having someone like Megan greet them would probably be reassuring.

"Yeah, my talent lies in making old and/or thrifted clothes look respectable, so I figure I'll at least get a little work," She'd taught herself to sew because she got embarrassed turning up to school in clothes that came from thrift stores; they never fit right and she'd wanted to fix that.

"She would." He smiles there, plainly fond, though there's an undefinable quietness to it, not quite bright and bubbly like one might associate with thoughts of her. Jae takes a significant pull from his drink before he begins again.

"Hey, I might have to hit you up once you start," he says, and means it - he sticks his arm out to show her the cuff of his blazer, which, on closer inspection, has damage that's been tacked up under his own skill. Not bad, but only efficient, versus flawless. "I'm only just kind of skating by on some of my pieces."

Jae's conflict is layered, fighting, too many questions and hurts competing for which one gets enabled the most in his head. He doesn't want to be a sorcerer. He doesn't want to be a part of the supernatural community. He doesn't want to be in Baedal. He resents his birthright. He resents being imprisoned. He wants to know about himself. He wants help. He wants to understand the pride that other people have, he wants...

He asks for nothing, and yet the strange air seems to find him inside where it hurts the most.

(They're all hunted or hunting, terrible to each other, beautiful to each other, no matter what they are, there's no point in drawing lines around what he is or isn't. Would it be so awful, for him to identify with something, for once in his life?)

That sparks her curiosity, because it really isn't quite the reaction she'd expected and it reminds her of why she'd wanted to talk to Jae in the first place, "Speaking of, have you talked to her recently? I sent her a couple of texts last week, but never got a reply."

She does make a closer expection, spefically the color of thread used for stitching and making note to pick up a similar shade next time she's at the haberdashery store, "I could definitely manage that. I'll be making a network post once I'm set up, probably within a week. You can be my first customer."

Clearly that would be a great honor.

With the practiced grace of someone who's spent a significant chunk of his career being a professional conversationalist, Jae seamlessly buys himself some time by looking pleased over the notion of being her first customer (and it is a nice thought, because community is important) and taking another swallow of his drink.

"She's been under the weather," Jae says, of Megan. "She took a couple days off work."

He doesn't consider for a heartbeat telling Steph why Megan's really missing in action. If she wants to tell people, then that's her business; it isn't Jae's to tell. Not to anyone, not even the police, unless Megan asks him to, no matter what he might think or feel.

Still-

Jae rubs his thumb along the rim of his glass, absent. "Post-party hangover check?" Or was Stephanie texting her for another reason?

"Oh, that sucks," It's an explanation that makes sense, Steph wouldn't want to be answering CiD messages if she was sick, "I hope she feels better soon."

She might think about sending another message later, to ask Megan if she needs anything. Steph's never been much of a cook, but her chicken noodle soup is up to scratch, and it's the ultimate cure-all, in her opinion.

"I was gonna go to the Vault and see her dance, I'd wanted to check times and stuff." If Jae hadn't just given the explanation, there might've been a hint of disappointment there - no one likes being ignored - but as it is, Steph won't hold it against Megan.

The immediacy of Steph's acceptance and her lack of irritation makes Jae feel better; she seems like a genuinely nice person, and he's not getting any secretly an evil sociopath fae monster vibes off her. It's good.

"Her show's great," he agrees. "When she's back up to speed, you should definitely come see her." There's a dessert cherry jammed onto the end of the useless stirrer straw in Jae's drink, by now soaked through pleasantly with liquor - he eats it and sips the rest of the mix, ice clinking around pleasantly. "I've been trying to drop by often enough to make sure her cat gets fed and she hasn't fallen off the face of the earth," he continues. "She can be a little spacey."

"I'd like to. Clubs like that aren't usually my scene, but Megan made it sound like a lot of fun," Steph is... fairly vanilla, but not easily embarrassed, so while she wouldn't go to the Vault usually, she won't be uncomfortable there either.

Watching Jae eat the cherry reminds her of her own drink and she takes a sip, nodding in agreement at the spacey comment, but her voice doesn't hold any judgement, "That doesn't surprise me. Do you think she'd be up to company? I'm good at playing mom."

It's said with a smile, even though it's kind of depressing that she had to be the parent in her household.

Jae doesn't engage at anything at the Vault (both because he's an employee and it would be unprofessional, and because his privacy issues are so tweaked being here they're off the fucking chart and there's no way he's hooking up with anyone just yet), but he can appreciate the aesthetic and allure of it even without participating as a client. Art and entertainment comes in all forms. It's nice to see people enjoying themselves, too.

And then-

Well. Maybe it's disingenuous of him, to enable Steph to go see Megan under obscured pretenses, but some part of him is relieved that the blonde-haired girl volunteered. (And on her own, at that.) "I think so," he says, sounding thoughtful. "She might appreciate somebody poking their head in besides me - I'm probably getting weird by now."

It's a longshot, but maybe Megan could use a girlfriend.

"Are you the big sister?" At home, presumably.

"Sounds like a plan, then. I'll go grocery shopping and pick her up some comfort food," She doesn't even hesitate over the idea of spending her money to look after someone else; she's only tight with funds when it's something for herself. And she gives Jae a small smile at the self-deprecating comment, "I'm sure she appreciates you looking after her."

This time it's Steph buying herself time by taking a drink, although an easy lie comes to her, "My mom was sick a lot when I was younger, and dad was hardly around, so I had to look after her."

AKA her mom was a drug addict and her dad was in and out of prison, but that's not the sort of thing she tells new acquintances.

Barbara turns her head, tensing slightly; after a moment she relaxes, as recognition dawns. She smiles, slowing down as she nears him.

"Hey there." It's nice to see him looking well; she was concerned, after that abrupt retreat.

She really needs to stop being concerned about everybody, but she resigns herself to the fact that it's probably not going to happen.

As she comes to a stop, "This your neighbourhood, or do you just like the market?"

Jae's voice is distinctive, and immediately familiar to Shrieky thanks to their short exchange over the journals. He glances up at Jae quickly, and yes, it's certainly the man he spoke too about the rude girl and Vanadi. Being too young to have white hair is the mental mark that he'd made to distinguish this one from the others on the network, and seeing him in person only reinforces that impression.

"I'm okay. I was-- I went in the river." Shrieky's tone is a little cautious. He hadn't been entirely sure what to make of this person when they'd spoken over the network, and he doesn't feel any more certain of him in person, "You're the man with the white hair." He offers, a little obviously, before realising that this might not be too illuminating a statement, and quickly adding: "We've spoken on the CiD. I mean, we're Cohorts."

Since the stranger didn't get the ear buds out of his ears until he'd finished talking, Jay wasn't surprised that he didn't hear him, and didn't particularly mind. That was what happened when you talked to someone wearing ear buds, after all.

"No, but where did you get it? Do you know what it runs on?" If he could get one of his own, he could dissect it and see how similar it was to the ipods of his own world.

Will's getting the hang of things. Enough so that he's trying out the city's nightlife for the first time since he's gotten here. It's not so bad, though the music is a little strange. The alcohol tastes pretty much the same so he has a little of that, dances with a bunch of random people, and it helps solidify his conviction that he'll be able to adapt. There are still some things – he hasn't been able to suss out any information about resistance movements, but he's also been cautious. He needs to know the terrain and the climate better first. But he has a job and a new place and maybe not friends, exactly, yet, but he's meeting people and getting along with them. He'll get there. He's adaptable and persistent and it was a lot easier once the decided that everything being strange meant everything was normal

He's stopping at the bar for a bottle of water when he catches sight of Jae down the counter, and he heads over after he gets his water, dropping onto the stool next to him in a flurry of limbs and shiny, brightly covered fabric. He bought himself a 'fun' shirt yesterday. It wasn't that expensive and he figures he's making enough to buy frivolous things occasionally. It makes him feel more grounded, somehow. “Hey,” he says, and then pauses. They haven't spoken since separating at that party, and while Will thinks he's pretty memorable – it's a big city. “I'm Will,” he adds. “I met you a couple weeks ago?”

Despite being told that Mozenrath is gone, Martha can't let it be still. She simply couldn't rest on her laurels when she thought that there might be more to everything than him simply (hopefully) going home. So, because of that Martha was spending a bit of time in the back of the temple of Shada, thinking that if there was anything weird about his disappearance, there would be a clue here.

It was funny, during her two years aboard the Barge, the desire to investigate things that had come from her being a companion had been suppressed by being a warden. The suppression had worn off now that they were here, and she was almost making up for lost time.

The best way to go about doing something like this was being friendly, so when she saw someone else sitting quietly in the back, Martha offered a quick smile to the person, and a slight wave.

With a cavalier sense of accepting his destiny regardless of turnout, Jae hopes that Megan doesn't feel further infringed on by this. Illness or emotional malaise thanks to Baedal itself isn't uncommon, and that she's been off her game isn't a secret; he thinks she's probably back out and about a bit by now, just avoiding anyone she actually knows. Maybe Steph will be able to pin her down a little.

... He hopes Steph isn't overwhelmed by anything, either. She really does seem nice.

The look Jae gives her is appreciative, but he doesn't comment further on Megan. He feels weird continuing to talk about her, even if it's innocent. Instead: "That's too bad about your mom." Sympathetic - he doesn't have any understanding, for neither lie nor reality, but Jae's just one of those people who cares about everybody pretty much by default.

Youko had not been that surprised to hear that one of Hellsing's magic-sensitive contacts had been in touch, the other night - there had been something in the air, skirting the edge of her awareness. If she'd been focused on sensing such things at the time, maybe she would have felt it fully herself, even in this city of electric, dancing energies. There hadn't been any obvious damage, or else Hellsing would have been called in with more urgency, but it still warranted investigation, and Youko had pulled the card out of the hat (figuratively speaking) (usually). She'd already spoken to the mage who contacted them, and had a general idea of the area the spike of magic had come from, so that was where she was headed tonight, and she ended up strolling into a bar that was lit in neon blue and very... industrial. Grinding music, and grinding on the dance floor. Regretfully, she had to pass that by for the moment, heading instead to the bar to make gentle inquiries among the staff, so long as no-one pinged her magic-dar first.

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i wrote this song while i was drunk

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idk, whatever time/place works best for you?

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a day or two after the magicsplosion :V