networkinthenight | @parker

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@parker — text.

I haven't met everyone, so for those of you I haven't met: hey, my name's Peter, wish circumstances were better etc, and I'm going to admit I don't really do this a lot, so you'll have to bear with me.

I know we've just had a meeting to discuss how we can be more prepared in the future and how we can try and limit repeats of the Lighthouse expedition and the party, but that was before Robin and the Doc shared with the class what they know about the World Eaters. New and old, we're all roughly on the same page as far as that's concerned.

Saying it'll be worth putting our heads together at some point to work out how we're going to deal with that threat is an understatement, but... It'll be worth it. Apparently the quickest way to send us all on a one-way trip to definitively not existing is by not working together, and I'll be honest and admit I'm pretty keen on avoiding that.

(That doesn't mean now, for the record, but we've got a time limit and this doesn't look like it's one of those situations where you can cram all night with a jugful of coffee and hope for the best at 8am, day off.)

(And while we're here, can we all agree that murder is bad? Yes? Great.)

I haven't had the (questionable) luck of coming across anyone from my version of Earth here, but we can basically sum it up with: stuff happens. Invading aliens, not-so-invading aliens, pod people, body snatchers, you name it, it's probably happened. I don't want to assume that's the case for everyone here, but I've spoken to enough of you that I feel pretty comfortable going out on a limb and saying that most of us have had experiences that kind of stretch the definition of 'normal'.

Which also means we've got enough experience between us all to make some kind of headway.

(That's the long way of saying "okay, so", by the way.)

There's been a lot of encouragement about exploring Beacon and pulling together whatever we find into something cohesive to be able to figure out a survival plan, and that's great but it's not without its risks.

In life, I had a tech company. At the moment, I've just got it on my tablet, but I've been messing around with something I came up with back home. Think of it like GPS, but with fewer (read: no) satellites.

Radius isn't unlimited and it's not totally foolproof, but if anyone's heading out into the forest and they've got any concerns or reservations about ending up separated from whoever they're with, or unable to find their way back to town, let me know.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ peter's expression flickers a little at the date comment — surprise first, then sheepishness, and he half-holds up a hand in an expression of surrender. he hadn't thought that at all, and he opens his mouth to say as much, but quentin gets there first, explaining exactly what he wanted to talk to peter about.

he huffs a breath that's not quite a sigh, one shoulder lifting in a light shrug. ]

I don't know that it's not safe, but— [ peter drops his rucksack to the ground, squatting briefly to reach in and pull out his tablet. the edges are a little scuffed and dented, as if it's been jostled around (and quite possibly dropped) a few times over the last couple of months, but it works and as far as peter's concerned, that's the important thing.

he stands back up, holding the tablet out in front of himself. ] These shouldn't even work. [ punctuated by a breath of a pause (give him a moment, he's just going to have another bite of ice cream) and then he waves the hand with the tablet loosely. ] This world doesn't have satellites, there's nothing that resembles the internet, and they don't even need charging. That doesn't strike you as weird? [ beat. ] You mentioned magic, there's a— [ loose handwave ], kid by the name of Elden. He's a — healer, but he can also detect magic, I don't really get how that works, but I'm running with it, and apparently each and every one of these gives off a magical aura. I don't know what that means, but I do know I'm not about to run the risk of someone taking a comment of tracking the spirits the wrong way. When the spirits attacked last month, there was a sound — a foghorn — just before. Robin says she meant to stop the spirits, but all we've got is her word on that.

Wait. Just-- hold on for a second.

[That's. A lot of information in a short amount of time and the part of Quentin that isn't furiously trying to make sense of it, is pretty impressed by the fact that Peter said any of that at all given how people usually react to magic being real, that he expects the Afterlife to adhere to the same rules as life did and that the Lighthouse Keeper might be able to call the spirits like an attack squad.

Frowning at the tablet as if he doesn't have one exactly like it in his pocket, Quentin rubs his hands together and bends his fingers.]

I can detect magic? I mean, I know a spell? But, uhm, magic isn't-- It has rules? Like physics, only with magic? And it can't break those rules. Doing spells, working magic is. It's like, we can move it, to do what we want. It's not just waving a wand around and then things happen. It's a lot more complex than that? I could try and explain it, well, I mean, my discipline is Physical magic but we still had to take classes on Knowledge magic and spell design? If you want. Later. But-- so the tablets are magical. Why not. It's the Afterlife, you can't really expect things to be. Uhm, like they used to be?

Oh, you think someone is tracking all of us by magic? On the tablets we all carry around?

[Or the lanterns, because they had to carry those, didn't they? He looks towards the shore of the lake and where the lighthouse must be in the pitch dark. How far could you see from there? With binoculars. Could you see every little light? With the right spell, it wouldn't even matter.]

You're not the first person to mention that trusting people could be a mistake. Are things really that bad here?

—No, [ he answers, quickly and emphatically. he pauses and runs a hand through his hair, before repeating a little more softly— ] No, but I can see why you'd think that. [ that things are 'that bad', and that peter was trying to say that trusting people, plural, could be a mistake. it's definitively not good, but as far as these things go, peter's more or less attached to the idea that it ( one ), could be worse, and ( two ), will get better.

(and then there's the overhanging question of whether that are dead, the question to which peter hasn't really settled on an answer for. it's possible — plausible, even, but he's dealt with enough capital-w Weird that it's as equally possible that this really is just the work of someone with a skillset a la arcade, or mysterio, or even hypno-hustler—.

optimism, then.) ] It wasn't quite what I meant.

Things are— I'm not going to say they're fine, because they're not: last month, half of the population either died or disappeared after the expedition to the lighthouse, and I'm not going to pretend that that's anywhere near okay, but things aren't going to get better if we spend all of our time focusing on — how bad it can get. There are a lot of good people here and for any misgivings I have about Robin, I don't get the feeling she's deliberately malicious. She's a kid. [ beat; amendment. ] Or she was, and she's been stuck here, in darkness, for twenty five years. I can only begin to imagine what that'd do to a person.

I believe she believes she's acting in our and her best interests, I just don't think that judgement is always going to be right. [ he falls silent for one second, then two, before: ]

I don't think we're being tracked, not like that — but I'm not going to assume that private conversations on these are going to stay that way. [ he pauses briefly, expression scrunching up in consideration, then— ] And yes, I know how that sounds, and I hate myself a little bit for it.

[ quentin's comments about magic and this being the afterlife, though? don't think he won't come back to those, because he will. before that— ] But speaking of tracking: can't you do that with magic?

Uhm, first off -- you're only the second person to mention Robin, the mysterious Lighthouse Keeper, but everyone I talk to except that metal-guy, is very much against trust. Which, let's face it, is pretty ironic and not in the Alanis Morissette kind of way? Because I'm a stranger? I could literally be anyone.

[Snapping his head up, Quentin's hair falls in to his face in ratty tendrils, and he huffs.] That's not what I was getting at, though. It's just. Something I thought about? But. Okay, so Robin can maybe not be trusted. Or, the tablets or the network can't. Sure, fine, why not? Let's go with that?
. That still leaves the question - who is trustworthy, then? You? Dude, I don't know you. I mean, you seem nice and all. But. Shit, I talked to a guy who was more in favor of a dictator than people taking a vote. I've been reading on the tablet and didn't this place get reset once already because everyone was fighting? Killing each other?

But. Can I borrow a tracker from you? To see where the forest spirits go? Because, yeah magic? It's harder here and I'm not-- I'm not that good at those kinds of spells? I mean, Eliot-- uhm, he's. We're. We're both magicians? He might be able to, but I can't. I've tried, but it's as if there's some kind of dampening field on it or something.

[ truthfully, peter's a little surprised that he's only the second person to mention robin and it's evident in the momentary flicker of his expression when quention mentions it. the newest arrivals have been here for just over a week and he'd have thought it'd have come up a little more frequently, but he supposes it just goes to show that despite everything, they've all got their different ideas of priorities and what's important, even here.

(privately, too, peter appreciates that alanis morisette reference — a man after his own heart! — but he doesn't have a whole lot to add to it, and for as much as he'd be reluctant to admit it, they have got slightly more important things to focus on than terrible 90s pop culture references and poor understandings of rhetorical devices.)

regardless, he doesn't respond immediately; instead, he shifts his focus to the ground and, after a second of internal debate, plops himself down. ]

By her own admission, Robin's reset the town between twenty five and thirty times. Before her, there was another keeper, so—. [ he waves a hand dismissively: do the math. ] The quickest way to earn a reset is for a group to fight, apparently, which implies it's happened a few times. [ he holds his hands out, one still holding his tablet. ] I'm all for avoiding that as much as we can, even if it didn't result in the presumably-permanent end of our not-lives.

But sure, trust me, don't trust me. [ he shrugs — or, attempts it, as much as he can, from his seated position. ] That's up to you. I'd be a hypocrite if I tried to tell you I'm worthy of trust when all you've got is my word — about anything.

[ the limitations on magic though — that's the first peter's heard of them here. it's — interesting? if he knew anything about magic, it'd probably be of more note, but as it stands—. he could make guesses as to what that could mean, but that's all they'd be. it kind of-maybe-possibly lends credence to the idea that this place is more magical than not, but—

(ugh.)

he rests his chin in a hand, eyeing quentin for a moment; a huff of breath, then: ] I'll have to make a few things clear, first.

[Of course Peter is going to sit down and Quentin is stuck either staring down at him like a complete asshole, or plunk down on the ground next to him, getting grass stains on his pants and dirt on his hands. And it's not as if Quentin has ever been someone who really cared about something like this before, only- and there are flashes of memories, of a different part, a different kind of dirt clinging to him and the taste of blood and bile on the back of his throat.

The second best thing is crouching low, and he ends up doing that, balanced precariously with his elbows on his knees and his head tilted.]

She resets about once a year? [that is not good odds] And yes, I read about the world eaters, who we have to find a way to stop but-- and I know this is going to sound a little nuts, but, uhm, what if it's all a test? All of this [he waves at hand at everything, the park, the ice cream stand, and further out-- the village and the forest.] It wouldn't be the first time, for me? That the whole world is just-- I mean, a lot of myths talk about trials after death, okay? About the tests or the quests showing you the true measure of yourself? What if this is it?

[How tracking the spirits would prove or disprove that, Quentin was a little more vague on? But it was a starting point, if they had a meeting place in the woods. A pile they slept in or a cave with a treasure in it. A more defined goal than just sitting around on their collective asses, all of them side-eyeing each other as if they're might be the backstabber in a horror movie.

Quentin slumps in to silence for a while, just looking off to the side and, really? This being a test is more wishful thinking than anything he has any proof for and here, now, what's needed is more information. Something they can use.]

There's a truth spell? But I'd need to practice for it and I need wine? But, it's an option. Just so you know. Also, that things?

You know, you're the second person this month to suggest this is a test. I always preferred the ones I could study for.

[ at first, he doesn't say much more than that: it's a thought, one that peter's not sure he agrees with — but then, how different was it to him thinking this may have just been a super extravagant (ha) murderworld, or kind of like that time he'd had to re-battle his past enemies to make his way back to the present, thanks to dor...mamu (or whatever it was called)?

and he'd like to think he's showcased enough of the 'true measure of himself' (really? that's what they're going with?) in the past that he'd get to skip this round, but there's no way of voicing that opinion without explaining that: hi, my name's peter parker and in a shocking development, I haven't been totally honest with you up to this point—.

he pulls a face — it's a mixture of thought and doubt, before conceding: ] It's a possibility, but the simplest answer is probably—. [ a pause; reconsideration. ]

Are there superheroes where you're from? [ not that he really gives quentin time to answer before continuing. ] On my Earth, there are. [ beat, clarification: ] People with superhuman abilities. Some are capable of magic, [ he gestures at quentin ], like you. Some are just more agile, or stonger, or—. [ whatever. ] Point is, sometimes things like this just happen. Sometimes there isn't a reason to it. Sometimes you just wake up and suddenly everyone's turning into human-sized spiders, or Manhattan's being invaded by blob creatures from another dimension and the why is because it's just another day that ends in -Y.

That's not to say it's not worth trying to get answers, by the way. The lack of answers for anything has really been stressing me out, if I'm honest. Anything more we can find out will go a long way to figuring out how we can stop the World Eaters and get home. [ just, like, don't expect it to make sense IS ALL HE'S SAYING HERE.

there's a quirk of his lips, then: ] —But I don't think our answer to what this is is getting the spirits drunk. [ being deliberately obtuse? never. ]

—I just meant I'd need to explain a few things, by the way. [ about how the trackers would work, not like ground rules (although there may be some of those, too.) ] The trackers don’t work in isolation.

Edited (SORRRY) 2019-09-13 08:48 (UTC)

Yeah, yes I know that sometimes shit happens for no reason? Or, that, like, sometimes the universe is just going to take a giant crap all over you and there's nothing you can do about it except try to get through it? I know, alright. I. Know.

[God, you're not helping, Peter, and Quentin wants to stay on the subject of superheroes - fuck? Really? Honest to god superheroes? But everything else they're talking about is more important than indulging in his own private feelings about things like Superman.

Frowning hard as he lets his knees hit the ground, Quentin stuffs his hands in to his armpits.]

But see, here's the thing-- I died. That happened, it was a whole thing and I watched my friends mourn me. That's fine. But my friend Eliot isn't supposed to be here. Like, at all. But he is? Which means the universe fucked up somehow and this is a test, or we're not all really dead?

[He's just not even going to think the thought that Eliot died for real. Not even for a second. Quentin deflates, lips pressed in to a thin line.]

We don't have superheroes. We, uhm, have magicians? Like me, most are just better at it [which hurts to admit. Pride, still a thing after death. Who knew?]. I meant, for us. All of us. That town meeting was a waste of time. It was all a bunch of idiots trying to, god, I don't even know. Just-- [he slices his hand through the air] a fucking waste of time. But. We could hold a second one, and everyone would tell the truth? It only lasts for 2 questions, but. It might be enough?

[Anything, everything, and all of it hinging on the fragile theory that this isn't the proper afterlife, that they're not all stuck here forever or until someone like Robin hits the switch and makes them all ex-humans. Uhm. Ex-persons.] What do you mean they don't work?

Sorry, Quentin, I didn't mean—. [ peter winces; that wasn't really the reaction he'd been angling for. ] Listen, we all remember dying and what I'm about to say probably isn't going to help, but there a couple of people here who know each other from their world. The thing is, they remember events differently. [ he rests the hand holding the tablet on his knee, pausing momentarily. ] That could be put down to alternate timelines, which I guess would be the simplest answer to swallow, but the other answer is that this is just someone messing with us. [ pause. ] I mean, it could be both, honestly, I haven't ruled that out, but...

We have to breathe, right? And eat, and sleep. Functionally speaking, we're alive, there's no proof that we've died except our memories and— [ peter exhales, an audible breath somewhere between a sigh and a huff of a laugh. ] —if I've managed to pick up anything, it's that memories aren't infallible. I wouldn't use the word test because that implies that we're being graded and—.

[ now that he's thinking about, with the resets? yeah, actually, maybe test is a good way of putting it. he shifts his weight and his arm, resting his chin against his hand. ]

—I was thinking more game, you know? Resets, checkpoints... I don't know if I buy that we're dead. It just feels like too much of a convenient answer. [ beat; as if to explain what he means, he adds: ] Not even the plants should be alive, but for all intents and purposes and as far as I can work out, they are.

[ he stretches his legs out, sneakers scuffing against the dirt. (aaaaaagh. he hates this. all of this.) ] Whatever this is, we'll figure it out. Just— truth serum, really? You think that's going to go down well? Anyone that's got something to hide wouldn't agree to it, and it's a surefire way to head towards that infighting we're kind of trying to avoid.

[ but woah woah woah, hold up. ] Hey! —They work, just not alone. They emit a signal — a sound frequency. That's what you'd be tracking, and [ he waggles his tablet ] you need something to do that with. Your tablet as is isn't going to do that.

Edited 2019-09-13 10:35 (UTC)

No, wait. I don't just remember dying. I remember dying and going to the Underworld, meeting P-- a friend who died last year and I remember Secrets Taken to the Grave, where you have to, like, tell someone all the deepest secrets about yourself? Someone people get stuck there for, uhm, for decades? But. I didn't?

[Which says a lot about Quentin's secrets. Not so secret after all, maybe.]

But I can breathe here? And-- and I have a heartbeat? What's that even about? I don't-- I never played games much? I. Like books? But I know what you mean. I think. We're entertainment. Which, wouldn't be the first time that happened and Gods are dicks. But it doesn't even make sense that I have a body here, because I sure as shit didn't back home. [Quentin buries his hands in his hair, huffing slightly again.] And it doesn't even matter to me. To be honest. It really doesn't. It could be a game. It could be a test, it's all the same to me. As long as I can find a way to get someone out of here? I don't actually care about the how's and why's.

[Okay, so he cares maybe a little, but Peter's face is making a complicated kind of face and Quentin just doesn't know what that means.] It's not a serum, that's Harry Potter. We have, uhm, spells? For that? The wine is a part of it. [And Peter has technology, which is close to magic as far as Quentin can tell- incomprehensible and fancy-sounding. He rubs his face hard, only looking at Peter in short glances before his eyes slides off to the side to look at the park.] So. This means I need you too? And your tablet?

You remember what? [ peter doesn't bother specifying just what he means by that, because all of that sounds like a wild ride. he's done the dying thing; and he's done the almost dying thing; and the buried alive thing, and frankly, that was all exceptionally unpleasant and he'd rather not repeat any of it (except the almost-dying, that's just basically wednesday as far as his life's concerned), but sharing his deepest, darkest secrets? yeah, that sounds unpleasant.

(hashtag superhero life, or something.) ] Wow. [ the corners of his lips twitch upwards into a quick smile. ] I was in Central Park, [ he offers, fully aware that that's nothing compared to—

—whatever quentin just described. (not having a body?) ] With a body. [ pause. ] You know, I know I just questioned what that was all about, but I think I'm going to rescind my question. As I think the kids say: you do you, buddy. So moving on from whatever you just described, yes: that means you need my tablet.

[ him is a little more nebulous — there's nothing on his tablet that he has any great need or desire to hide, and it's a fairly simple programme as far as those things go. the detail he's skipped past entirely is that he doesn't need his tablet to track them at all — they work with his spider-sense, but he's still pretty happy to play that game of 'what, no, peter parker and spider-man are totally different people, this is not the jawline of a superhero.' ]

You do-- [that actually makes Quentin crack a smile for the first time tonight, after that polite and well-rehearsed one that he might have thrown Peter's way when they first met all of ten minutes ago. But still. It's a smile and it's wry and Quentin let's go of his hair to raise an eyebrow at him.]

I don't think kids say that. I think old people think kids say that, when, uhm, when it's really just another way of saying fuck you? I mean. Doing-- I'm just going to stop talking about that now and. Yeah.

[Sitting down properly, Quentin curls his legs up and rests his elbows on his knees.]

I can see why those trackers aren't as easy as I thought they were going to be. I'd have to follow you and your tablet around? In the dark? And-- how close does your tablet have to be? Because if it's close, it's kind of. Maybe. Not that good an idea? Because of the lanterns? We'd be visible for miles.

Old—! [ incredulously, because that's obviously the part of the comment that he's just going to latch on to for all for five seconds. ] I'm going to pretend your 'stop talking about that' is referring to the bit where you just called me old.

[ but okay, fine—. the topic at hand: ]

Definitively? 100 yards. Anything further than that, I can't make any promises. It'll pick the signal back up if you lose it, as long as the tracer isn't damaged in any way. The thing you'll have to watch out for is it being discarded, or just falling off whatever you attach it to. [ there's a moment where he pauses, shooting quentin a sidelong glance. ] I'd say I don't come as standard, but given the circumstances, I'm not sure I'd recommend doing this alone. [ a pause. ] How were you planning on ensuring your chosen spirit doesn't notice you tagging it, by the way?

I didn't mean-- look, we're about the same age, I think? So, I'm not like calling you ancient or anything?

[Oops?]

But you'd give me your tablet, just to be absolutely clear on that? [Wow, trusting.] Maybe I'm not going alone? I mean, I have Eliot and he's, uhm, he could maybe come along? But. You can too, if you want. I didn't really plan anything beyond just tagging one of them and waiting to see where that takes me? [Planning is for other people] but I'd stick it on with a spell? Or, some of them have pockets, so I figured I might try to slip it in there? I mean, I have no idea how big it is and-- and I'd have to practice the spell a few times. To make sure it really sticks and doesn't just hang there for, like, a minute and then falls off?

[ peter eyes quentin appraisingly for a moment — quentin looks to be a few years younger than him, but for all intents and purposes, sure, they are a similar age. still, there's a difference between old and ancient and wow, thanks for not calling him the latter. ] That's comforting, thanks.

[ I didn't really plan beyond—. okay. there's a loose plan there, and it doesn't sound like it's something quentin's going to rush headfirst into, which gives time for a more solid plan to come to fruition beyond 'tag! you're it' because as it stands, it sounds like a loose idea of something to do that could get results, but is just as, if not more likely, to get someone hurt if they tagged the wrong spirit. ]

Preferably, no, but if it came down to it and I was doing something else? Sure. [ a beat and a quirk of his lips, ] But just to be clear, there's nothing on my tablet that I need to hide, so the only thing I'd lose is a convenient method of communication, and— [ he waves a hand dismissively. ] Let's be honest: if it gets to the point where you, we, whoever has to leave my tablet behind, I think there's slightly larger things at stake than whether or not I'm going to be able to check my messages at two am. [ pause; concession. ] —Pockets should be fine.

Oh, I didn't-- I wasn't going to look over anything on your tablet or anything like that, I just. It was just that everyone seem like they want to keep everything close to their chest? Tablets included, so I was just checking to make sure. It's not--

[Small frustrated noise, because hardly any of the things he wanted to ask about is coming out right, and he's really just sitting in the dirt, asking a stranger for favors when he's got nothing to offer in return except what ever results he might, and that's a very shaky might, get.]

I wasn't planning on leaving it behind, I was just-- surprised. I guess. I-- I have no idea what I'm actually doing here, but there's not enough information anywhere here to learn anything. It's all just-- it's just a lot of talk and no one is doing anything, but if we knew, if we could figure out where they go? If they go anywhere at all? Maybe that would help. Like, maybe that could be the next clue.

Generally, or do you mean information? [ not that the difference entirely matters — the sentiment raises an issue with trust that, at least amongst themselves, would be better avoided if they want to avoid being reset.

but then quentin makes a noise and whilst peter's not entirely sure what it's directed at, it manages to be a vocalisation of a feeling he can very, very much appreciate. he's been here three months and they're not really any closer to having a solid idea about what's going than they were when they first arrived — sure, they'd discovered bits and pieces, nuggets of information and way more creepy buildings than peter realistically wanted to see in his lifetime (un-lifetime?), but the majority of anything that seemed like it was worth something, came from doc ingram, or from robin, and—

—there's the question of how much of that can be taken at face value. ] —But okay. [ he doesn't bother to point out that he hadn't meant that he'd expect quentin to leave it behind deliberately ] I don't want to sound condescending and I'm sure you already know this, but things like this, they take time. Trust doesn't occur overnight; it's not ideal, but it is what it is. [ a beat. ] You know I'm on the same page as you, right? I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.

What?

[Since just trying to wing this, and hope to all hell that the words would just come to him from come magical place inside his own head. Or, like, divine intervention. Isn't working. At all. Quentin takes a moment, staring down at the ground and his own hands, twisting together and worrying the edge of his sleeve.

After a few moments of nothing but quiet and they're breathing, and maybe the distant sound of insects buzzing around. None of the city sounds he'd been living with for years and missed like he'd miss breathing for that first year in Fillory, no people walking around talking too loudly, sharing pieces of their lives with everyone around because talking quietly on the phone was just not a thing in New York. No loitering and no other lives brushing up against everyone elses. Not here.

Heaving a sigh, he looks up and tilts his head.]

I was suggesting the we all, uhm, trust each other like that? Trust is more than just sharing all our deep, dark secrets with strangers. But, we should be able to trust that all of us, every single one, wants to beat this. I don't even care if you just want to go back and be alive? If the others just want to solve this because it-- because it might be the only way to get that? Who ever did this, made a mistake and I'm willing to-- to do anything, to burn this place to the ground to make them take it back. I'd trust you to help me get that? Shouldn't everyone?

Woah, woah, let's stop short of burning an entire town, shall we? [ there are so many steps in between this being a totally uncool situation and deciding to raze it to the ground to — not even start again. ] I think we can probably trust that everyone wants some kind of resolution to this, whatever that is, but— [ peter stretches one arm out, then then the other in opposite direction, ] —getting from point A [ he holds up one hand ], to point B [ and the other hand ] is where the mistrust is going to come into play.

[ mister burn the town, dude, no. ] I'm not going to be the violence is never the answer guy here, because sometimes it is, but only in, like, a punch-to-incapacitate kind of way. If wiping out the town was the answer, I don't think it'd have been through so many resets. Sometimes the end doesn't justify the means.

I didn't mean it literally-- okay, so mostly I did. I just. I can't stay here forever? You know?

[Or maybe Peter doesn't know, maybe he's fully content to just stay here and work on this impossible puzzle until the reset comes and really, they don't even know what the reset is. It could be a memory-wipe on all of them and having to start over, again and again, because this could just as well be hell?]

There's no reason to mistrust the fact that we all want to solve this before we're either reset or-- or being eaten by the World Eaters. None of which sounds all to pleasant and I can live with never knowing which one is worse? But there are things we need to know. To make choices. Like, are we even dead? Where do the spirits go? What are they? Why did they attack?

I know, believe me.

[ he does, so much. mj will be worried sick, and he doesn't even want to think about what aunt may would be thinking; felicia. even jonah—. the lack of known factors about what this means for their homes makes him feel a little sick each and every time he thinks about it, a coil of panic in the pit of his stomach and his chest tightening just a little bit more the longer he's here—. ]

But there are some things I'm not willing to do to get there — someone else might be. Differences in approach are where any issues are going to come about. [ he runs a hand down his face, making a noise that's possibly a groan before continuing. (he hates this, he hates this so very much.) ] But let's return to the moral quandaries later, when they're both hopefully slightly more relevant and less — [ peter gestures vaguely with both hands ] arson.

So, fine. You want answers and you think the spirits have them. We tag one, and start to track it without being spotted which— [ he eyes quentin for just a second. ] —sure, we manage it somehow. You've got magic. What do we do if it goes wrong?

Edited 2019-09-19 05:11 (UTC)

First off, just-- I can't actually set the town on fire? I just thought you should know that. In case-- in case you were thinking I might be someone who, uhm, sets fire to things? Because I don't? Usually. It's just. Fuck it, I couldn't even if I wanted to. Because pyromancy doesn't really work here. None of the spells work properly, but those ones, the ones that set things on fire are the worst. But all spells a off. Just. So you know.

[Because he wasn't, and Quentin holds his hands out and shrugs.]

Goes wrong how? If we get attacked? Because I have a few spells that do work, that doesn't set things on fire, but it pushes things away? And shields? Magical ones? I can do that.

[ peter holds both his hands up in a gesture of vague surrender. ] Hey, you brought setting fire to things up.

—Getting attacked is definitely at the top of my list of things going wrong, [ peter answers, before waving one his hands at himself. ] I know appearances can be deceptive, but there's a reason I went into science and journalism. [ which isn't strictly a lie, but the reason he's implying absolutely is not the actual reason. nevertheless— ] So any contingency we've got would greatly appreciated. [ beat. ] And a rough idea of what to expect which— shields is great, actually.

When did you want to do this, by the way?

I was trying to make a point. That somehow got lost in all the fire-setting? What I meant was, I know someone who's not supposed to be here and I would do a lot of things, uhm, cross a lot of lines to correct that? Setting things on fire just seemed like the easiest way to say that. But. I guess it wasn't.

[Eliot is just not going to stay here, point blank. First order of priority and if there was even the slightest chance that this was a portals-thing, he was going to force that door to swing the other way and get Eliot out.]

What other things could go wrong? Because getting attacked seems like something that might actually happen but anything else? That's just something I figured I'd deal with if or when it happened. [Like everything else in his life and Quentin stuffs his hands in to his armpits again, tilting his head at Peter.] Well. When I asked you, I really had no idea it meant you'd have to go too, but. I want to go as soon as I can?

[ peter makes a noise that may have started off as a non-committal hum but slides into a 'nngh' at the mention of crossing lines. he gets it: there are lines he's pretty keen on not crossing, not ever, please and thank you, but that doesn't mean he hasn't considered it, doesn't mean he's never come close, doesn't mean it won't ever happen, no matter how much he'd like to hope it won't.

so, eliot's important to quentin. if peter was in the same position, could he say there weren't lines he wouldn't cross? ]

Trust me, property destruction generally isn't the best way to make any point. [ peter exhales and glances up at the sky for a moment, running a hand through his hair before continuing. ] I don't have to, but whether I come or not, all I ask is that you go into this with a vague plan. That's it. That's the extent of my Ts and Cs. [ a beat and a quirk of his lips. ] But luckily, we've got about two years before we're eaten by what I'm imagining to be giant worms, so right now, you're limited only by however long it takes you to figure something out beyond 'track a spirit and hope for the best'. Like — making sure you know how to get back.

@parker — text.

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5 years later i'm soooorry

NO worries!

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