nexus_crossings | Love in the Time of Monsters

Current Music: My Head & My Heart - Ava Max

Love in the Time of Monsters

It's been a few years since Dorian's addressed a question to the Nexus at large, and the vanishing act is appropriate. Once you've been around the block enough times and taken in more of the strange and monstrous happenings (sometimes the result of your own mistakes, other times not) of the world than any mortal reasonably can, don't you know things? Enough to trust in yourself and rely only on the one person who knows you better than anyone else? Dorian's been living on the edge of a knife up until very recently, fueled by self-reliance and an ironclad refusal to die for long enough that the new turns that his life has been taking lately are oddly terrifying.

Not that a passersby might guess that, from the composed and graceful figure settling himself down in the plaza. He's dressed simply, if elegantly, in black, with patterns of embroidered purple irises and Japanese painted ferns climbing symbolically up his forearms. Dorian sips daintily from a teacup, savoring the combination of black tea and lemon, before placing it down on its saucer with a gentle click.

There are certain people he doesn't want seeing him offer up even the middling display of vulnerability and sincerity that he's about to, but it can't be helped. Promising Sin he'll open up means actually taking the strides necessary to pry open those parts of himself that feel like they're currently sitting at the bottom of the ocean.

"This goes against every instinct that I have lately," Dorian addresses the Nexus, his tone calm and voice smooth. "Perhaps have ever had. But how do you start relying on other people again? Especially if you've given it up for, Christ," he exclaims softly, "a while?"

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"In my experience," Megatron says, "you don't get a choice about it. Eventually you run into a situation you can't get out of all by yourself."

"It's a wide multiverse," Dorian says simply. "There are deep levels of desperation and degradation that are livable under the right conditions." Not happily, of course, but surviving in even the most terrible way will always be preferable to Dorian over dying.

He takes a short sip of tea.

"I'm talking about relying on other people in the sense of trusting them. Intimacy. That sort of thing."

"Oh, I'm absolutely aware of the levels of desperation and degradation that exist in the multiverse," Megatron says quietly. Before he was a tyrant, he was a slave, a miner, a political prisoner, a gladiator and a whore, a thief, a terrorist.

"You and I both prefer to survive. This I can see. And yet, at a certain point one does come to realise that trusting someone--even intimately--is crucial to survival, whether or not one likes it. I found myself in a place where even my will to survive had failed me. If that's not where you are, then it will be more difficult for you to open up. But you can, you know."

Adam Notting, eat your heart out. In all of his 159 years, Dorian hasn't encountered a robot (if this being is a robot -- you never do know in the Nexus) more complex than the ones anyone can read about in scientific magazines from the modern era of his Earth. To hear one talk about experiencing desperation is immediately novel. That's a curiosity for later, though, Dorian decides. He came here for a reason that isn't, for once, to slake his boredom and desire for new experiences. Regardless, for Adam's sake he makes a mental note to ask if this one likes poetry.

"I couldn't say 'where I am', exactly," he admits. "Not long ago I was certain that I'd experienced more loss and heartbreak than a person can take in one lifetime." He pauses to take another thoughtful sip of tea. "After enough time, the memories get to be more like a haunting then a reel."

Edited 2021-03-14 10:55 (UTC)

"Some of them do," Megatron says quietly. "Some are as sharp as ever, but I find that I recall them less frequently. The death of my first love, for example. But then, we store our memories differently. It may be that if I were human, even those would fade."

He frowns, a little sombrely.

"We are always lying when we say here is all that I can give
When it feels the most true, still what we mean is
Here is where my heart stops

But the universe doesn’t care where your heart stops.
That’s not the question it asks
It’s only the question we want to answer
But the universe asks us only
Where do your limbs stop?
Where does your breath stop?
Where do your eyes go dark?

The universe is patient
Again and again it listens to the lie
Again and again it lets us draw the line.
But the universe and its patience are not infinite
One day sooner or later it grows tired of waiting
It puts a hand on our back and pushes
And we find that we can go on past our hearts
We can leave them behind entirely, in fact
We can go on so much further that we can no longer look back and see them."

But then he smiles, and his face is absolutely radiant.

"I am a lightning-struck tree, shocked out of my dying and into a new, startled life.
The tower I built around myself is fallen,
And you are my conquest and conqueror.
I went on past my heart long ago.
But you found it and brought it back to me, didn't you?"

He shrugs.

"I found that I knew the one I should trust when he came to me. I knew him when he came to me, because he had the chance to crush me, and he didn't, and he gave me hope, instead. Every time he had a choice to do me harm, he chose to do the opposite. Is there someone like that in your life?"

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[OOC: Sorry, not linking to the second poem; I wrote that one, not astolat, and it's in the middle of an NSFW RP post in his journal.]

The air is warm enough these days that long sleeves and a coat are enough for most people out and about in the Nexus, but the woman who pauses near Dorian when he asks his question is mostly hidden beneath a light, full-length cloak. It's a good question, and though she'd much rather ignore it, maybe... maybe she can help herself a little, too, by answering it. This is, after all, something she's working on herself.

"You don't, for a long while," she says softly. Her hairpin tinkles musically as she turns to face him, then again when she tilts her head curiously at him. He seems familiar, but she can't recall from where. It's been many years since she fought to save Winter, so it's not unusual that she wouldn't immediately recognize him as the young man she threw face first into a snowbank.

Her lips press into a thin line as she continues. "I found it takes an outside force to get it started, and it takes committing to the idea, and often the companionship of the person who pushed you for it, to build the habit. Even then it's... difficult. Old habits are comforting in how they familiar they are, even if they're destructive. Moving on from that requires a reason to do so, some goal you want to achieve or place you want to be. Something permanent that can't be taken from you, should you succeed." Not everyone has that, but if this man is asking this sort of question, it seems likely that he does.

The advantage (and curse, really) of perfect recall means that Dorian remembers Amelia's face in exact detail. But even without that, it's hard to forget the person who pitched you into a snowbank. Her first impression feels softer now, and that's enough for Dorian to shrug their last encounter off-- even if he's keeping his ears pricked.

He's on board for most of her explanation, although the mention of permanence triggers the usual skepticism. It's a useful answer, particularly because it sounds like it's coming from someone who truly struggles with trust in the same way he does, even if their reasons are bound to be very different.

"Mm, well." As he's taking time to think, he gestures politely to the seat opposite him should she like to take it. "The 'place I'd like to be' is something more like the person I was a few years ago." More like fifty years at least, but shorthand. "Once you start keeping secrets, even with good reason, I've found it difficult to turn that habit around. There's one person I know I can rely on, and after I found him I stopped bothering with anyone else."

Edited 2021-03-05 18:49 (UTC)

She nods in silent thanks as she settles herself into the offered seat while he speaks. His is a situation she doesn't entirely understand - she's never allowed herself to rely on anyone the way it sounds like Dorian has - but she can still work with this. He has some kind of end goal in mind, and that's enough of a connection for her to continue offering some amount of advice.

"Perhaps that person is the place to start, then? If you're willing to open up to him, maybe he has insight that will allow you to continue opening up to others." It's a poor offering of advice, and Amelia realizes it the moment it comes out of her mouth. She huffs a soft, self-deprecating laugh and shakes her head. "I don't mean to say you should ask them to do everything for you or that they're the only answer to your problems, but this person may have a way of looking at you and the multiverse that could help you."

Sitting back in her chair a little, she parts her cloak a little to let in some of the cool air around them and crosses her arms in front of her chest, revealing her own gold embroidery along the seams of rich chocolate fabrics. "Has this person you rely on done something you admire, perhaps? Something you could imitate as you try to relearn how to let others in? They are their own person, but why they do something could be helpful to your case."

Amelia's answers constitute a unique way of approaching his question that Dorian wouldn't have expected. He doesn't know if it's wisdom or not yet, but it's fresh. The immortal helps himself to a thoughtful sip of tea, considering.

The lenses he assumes Toby sees him through are romantic, flattering, and wholeheartedly accepting. He knows himself well enough to assume that even if he is trying to recapture enough of his old self to open up, 'romantic' is lost to him completely. Not without the last one hundred and twenty years of his life suddenly vanishing into thin air. Better to reach for her other question, then.

"He understands people well enough that he could use them, and sometimes he goes against what's easiest and doesn't-- or, he used to." A thoughtful hum. "He's been through and seen more than I have; He has better reason not to trust people than anyone."

But then again, the vampire's also throwing himself into making their new living arrangement work. For someone so freshly returned to metaphorical life, and who Dorian's realizing would probably rather throw himself down a flight of stairs if given the option, that's something to admire, isn't it?

"When it's important, he knows how to sacrifice with grace." So, Amelia might be hitting on something, here. Anything he's ever given up unwillingly went away with claw marks on it, and he knows it.

Edited 2021-03-14 08:46 (UTC)

Amelia can relate to parts of what Dorian is telling her of this other person. Using people is often the easier path; Choosing not to can often mean taking on far more than someone might be ready for. She exhales a silent sigh and pushes down her own thoughts on the matter to focus on what's being said. There's plenty to possibly work with, so it's best not to let her mind wander.

"It sounds like he's found a reason to put himself on a more difficult path," she notes. What that might be isn't her concern or hers to ask after, so she ignores it as she continues. "You said you have a goal for yourself, and that makes you more like this person you speak of than you might realize. If he - someone you've said has dealt with and struggled through more than you - can find a reason to set aside the easiest of solutions, then understanding how would be useful."

She lifts a hand to stop a nearby waitress to ask for a cup of tea for herself, motioning for a refill for Dorian as well if he accepts. Something for her hands to hold onto and fidget with while they have a deep conversation seems good. She can only fidget with her hairpin so much before it's awkward.

"Has this person told you or explained why he chooses to give up something he wants?" The rogue tilts her head slightly in question. "In understanding why he chooses something, you might learn something valuable for yourself."

A tea refill is welcome, and Dorian accepts it with a nod and a short 'thanks'.

"I don't have to ask." He knows Toby well enough to think he can guess: it's the path of least resistance as they continue figuring out their lives (and now Sin's life to, to a certain extent) together. A way to their always messy lives work. It may be worth it to have a conversation about it with his boyfriend later, but that's something he'll have time to decide when he gets home.

"Our reasons are different in this case." It might sound like he's shutting the conversation down, but he's grateful for Amelia's help. It's made him realize one thing: "I haven't found a good enough one to change anything about myself yet." Dorian leans back in his chair with his teacup as he lets the truth of his own words settle over him. Yes, that feels right. Not satisfying, but right. He needs more time.

"You aren't bad at this," Dorian says approvingly after a moment, crossing one leg over the other as his posture shifts into something more conversational. He feels like he's been led gently backwards into therapy and didn't absolutely hate it. That's definitely a first. "What's your name?"

It's a redirection of the conversation, and Amelia accepts it as such without any fuss. "You're asking the Nexus about it today, though," she counters, the corner of her lips tugging up into a smirk. "I'd bet something has changed, even if you haven't admitted to yourself yet." Whether that's true or not, she feels a bit as if Dorian's given away something with that line of thought. If he'd rather avoid talking about it, though, she won't press. If he's done taking advice, she's the last person who should try to continue giving it.

As her tea arrives and Dorian asks her name, her cheeks flush a light pink. "I'm not good at this. I've just been dealing with something similar as of late." She shakes her head, turning her gaze down to preparing her tea to avoid showcasing her embarrassment for a moment as she catches her breath.

"My name is Amelia," she says as she meets his eyes again. "It's a pleasure to meet you, though..." A beat, and she continues with her thought. "I feel like I may have met you before. I can't recall when or where, but you seem familiar. I'm sorry if we've been introduced and I've forgotten you, that really isn't my intent." She huffs a soft laugh and takes a sip of her tea. "May I have your name, just in case?"

Mick was working on some new lyrics for a song he'd thought up whilst experiencing the new emotions of the Nexus. All the people he'd met so far and the wild ride had given him inspiration to write a new song or two. But he hadn't finalised anything yet since most was just scrawls on paper back in the recording studio. Today though, he was out on the Plaza hoping to meet someone else new and it didn't take long for him to find a new face. A bloke drinking tea out of a fancy cup it seemed. Ah tea. This made the guitarist smile because he loved the stuff and drank it by the mug. Adjusting his guitar strap around his neck a little, Mick walked over to the well-dressed stranger.

"Hello there. Nice tea cup you've got there."

Was the bloke perhaps English? Or did he just like drinking tea? Not wanting to take him on face value, the blond just nodded and smiled. That accent though---he sounded English.

"Relying on people? That's a good one, mate. I tend to rely more on my strings than I do people but I suppose it boils down to how much you trust them."

Sitting down next to the bloke, Mick strummed a few strings and offered the man a fond smile. He seemed like a refined gentleman. Something out of a Charles Dickens novel or something. Dorian himself would notice that Mick was a Northern Englishman with a rough accented but soft voice.

Edited 2021-03-05 09:42 (UTC)

Talking to another Englishman triggers a very old and ingrained instinct to offer the man a cup of tea. Before he really knows what he's doing, Dorian settles the porcelain kettle in front of him and within Mick's reach, should the other man like to take advantage of the second empty teacup sitting on the table. That he recognizes Mick as one of Ziggy's posse only makes the offer that much more necessary.

"Yes. Trust. That's what I'm trying to err... rebuild, I suppose. I haven't had reason to for some time; People have a way of vanishing from my life sooner rather than later, for one reason or another." Usually through death, disagreement, or simply from him getting bored and moving on from them. He sighs. "And that's where I'm stuck. How do you put trust in something that isn't going to stick?"

Edited 2021-03-05 20:37 (UTC)

The offer of the cup of tea has Mick sliding his guitar around his back and sitting down to enjoy a drink with the man. He seemed a friendly sort of bloke who sounded like a posh Londoner. Taking the cup with a friendly nod, Mick drank from it before speaking.

"I'm Mick Ronno. Nice to meet you, mate. We haven't met before I don't think. I'm lead guitarist for the Spiders of Mars, Ziggy's band."

Mick did wonder just how many people knew of Ziggy and the Spiders in and around the Nexus. Most knew of the Anthean himself but as for his band? Probably a few less. The guitarist adjusted his leather strap around his neck as he sat, pushing some blond hair from his face.

"Sorry to hear about your trust issues. I can't say I've had any issues regarding that sort of thing."

Pulling out a pack of cigarettes, Mick offered the bloke one if he wanted to smoke or not. It was just this man's polite way of making friends.

"When you find out," Esther says, sitting nearby with a book, "let me know."

She's been having her own difficulties with relying on others. After all, mental health issues are no fun to share, at least in her mind.

"I mean that it's hard," she continues, shrugging. "For me, so if anything, you're not alone."

"Esther." Dorian's genuinely pleased to see the young woman again. He could never forget an artist-- particularly one with a few traits that remind him of his younger self. "It's good to see you again." Dorian gestures politely at the chair opposite from him, should she like to join him.

"I can, but I'm not exactly optimistic myself." He punctuates with a sip of tea. "Trust has always felt like a luxury to me. Or a cup filled with water that people won't stop trying to drink from-- if you'll excuse the metaphor."

Edited 2021-03-05 20:11 (UTC)

She smiles, closes her book, and moves to join him.

"I definitely understand," Esther replies. "I don't know if it was easier to trust when I was younger or what, but lately it's been hard. Wish it were less of a hassle, all around, but I try to keep my cards close."

Aziraphale is in the Nexus with his own tea, except it's the iced kind with milk and little tapioca pearls at the bottom. The angel has a weakness for sweets and the novelty of little gummy confections in his drink was worth braving for the delightful combination of flavors and textures.

Oh, dear, that sounds like a serious question. He approaches the other man, making brief note of the tea cup before replying. "Well, I can't say I've entirely been in such a position, but I think like anything, it's best to start small. Giving over some of that independence and control a little at a time and see what happens. It doesn't have to be all or nothing, although I would think it impossible to not rely on anyone else. No man is an island."

"--except when he is." That's the problem. Dorian sips meaningfully from his teacup. He appreciates the reminder that it is possible to give things up in increments, rather than barging into difficult emotional territory wholesale, though. That's something that's easy for him to forget.

"My issue with that," because he's not sure how else to put it, "is that it feels like throwing time and devotion at something that I know isn't going to last." Although that's not the case with Sin, he's realizing. She'll outlive him trillions of times over. At this point with her, it's him falling into old, bad habits. "People die, relationships end-- whatever creates the rift, it always happens. I'd like to overcome that feeling, but I've felt the truth of it intimately more than a few times."

"Oh, I don't know, I thought John Donne was rather astute about that." Aziraphale has been around humans for a very long time, and with only a few extreme exceptions, seem to need one another more often than not. But perhaps this fellow is exceptional in some way. He takes a sip of bubble tea while the problem is explained more, and thinks he understands. This man has suffered loss, and that makes him wary.

"That a certainly a risk we take when we rely on others. But..." His brows furrow a little. "That will happen anyway, whether we put in that time or devotion or not. Isn't it better to enjoy the time we do have together? It's not time wasted, I assure you."

"The next time he's in the Nexus, I'll postmark him a ticket to my island." As long as he brings more than devotionals, anyway. Metaphysical poetry is way more fun when people are talking about butts.

'Time wasted' is the phrase that's been echoing stubbornly through Dorian's mind from the moment he stepped up to ask his question. Hungry for insight, he presses:

"I think it depends." He refreshes his cup with a little pour of tea, all traces of any quipping or sass leaving his face. "On whether a person can suffer more heartbreak or loss in a lifetime than they can handle. I've experienced more than most people my age. The good memories are all there, but after enough time and people... the bad ones stack up."

Edited 2021-03-14 10:32 (UTC)

Aziraphale can't help but chuckle a little at that. "So long as I get to have a long chat with him first. He was a fine one to talk to."

But then Dorian's expression turns serious, so Aziraphale leaves the humor behind, listening to the man's concerns. "May I?" he asks, gesturing to a seat at Dorian's table. "You do raise a valid point. Life can be full of suffering, but I don't think people are given more than they can handle... not that they deserve it, mind you, but the human spirit is very resilient. And if they can't handle it, then all the more to have people around them to help them through the bad times."

Ben sits down to join Dorian quietly, and he's not unsympathetic. He's thought similar things and had similar problems, so whatever personal discomfort he feels with Dorian is put aside and replaced with a genuine offer for help. He takes a draft of the warm coffee he brought with him, holding out a biscuit for Dorian as something of a peace offering.

"I've had to grapple with the same problem," he tells the other man. "Learning to rely on others again after a long time when I felt I couldn't, and when trusting people around me too much was dangerous. What helped me here was opening up to select people who I felt I had things in common with and learning from them. Starting small when it came to attending parties. If anyone asked, I was there for the food, not for the company, but that was a lie. Part of it was learning to put others' needs ahead of my own, and changing appropriately."

He chuckles quietly, and with a hint of bitterness. "I don't know your personal circumstances, or if there's anyone in your life you feel you can trust. I am very lucky to have such a person in my life, who engaged with me and my nonsense without tolerating it. But I can promise you that I'll listen without judgement."

Tom has been so busy with his own life that he hasn't been out much for months. He has the sort of tired look of a busy, new father, perhaps slightly exaggerated even since he is over 50 and buried in the management of a new baby, a career and two off the hook children that have been causing excessive, if harmless mischief lately. As such he is in a plain black suit and overcoat, though the dress shirt is a bright teal, a touch of the Antheans around him getting hands in his wardrobe of late.

It's the accent that catches him. Even in the Nexus, the unmistakable London accent stops him to stare just in time to hear the question.

"That answer would depend on why you stopped." Tom turns to face him noting the dainty manners. He had those growing up but he lost some along the way. His voice though is heavily south of the Thames London, thick still despite living in the States now. "I know some people cling to changes like this out of fear, or worry, self definition by the negative in thier lives."

Thomas and his maddening behaviors were well in the front of Tom's mind while speaking to the young looking man. He knew better than to assume with seemingly young appearing but ancient people filling up his home.

Dorian's starting to get used enough to seeing people with David Bowie's face that far from being surprised by it anymore, he's begun cataloging them mentally by the ways they carry themselves in order to tell them apart. Ziggy is flamboyant and open, Tommy is melancholy and withdrawn, and Lucifer walks with the straight-backed pride and self-assurance of a Creator of the known universe. Tom doesn't fit neatly into any of those impressions, so it's easy enough for Dorian to guess that this is someone new.

The answer is a deep one, and enough that Dorian decides to give himself the time it takes to enjoy a sip of tea to think about it. He could say that he stopped extending trust because there wasn't any point to it after long enough, but that wouldn't be the complete and unvarnished truth. He sighs.

"I stopped because it was more than I could take." If he's going to offer the truth, it might as well be done boldly and with confidence. "People kept dying or ending up lost in some other way, and the inevitability of that... it didn't feel like there was a point in throwing so much of myself at them."

"That is the nature of everything that exists; people, planets, stars. They die and are lost. It may take a long time but it comes eventually." Tom had a change in perspective over his life. A reckless human to someone who had a timeless wife. Still as he speaks some of the light goes out of his eyes. Emotional damage still lingered from death and abandonment despite years and moving on.

"Isolation or half engagement doesn't stop the loss. You just loose yourself rather than someone else." Tom knew this bitterly from being institutionalized in solitary confinement and the emptiness of returning to Earth alone. When he came out the other side he had almost lost his mind and life along the way.

Rather than protest that point (he's seen enough that it's fair to assume that it could happen to him, even though it feels unlikely) Dorian simply tips his head in a pert, questioning manner. "Does it?" Right now he's more interested in digging deeper into perspectives that might be helpful rather than instigating an argument about immortality.

"So your recommendation," he starts, bluntly, "is 'deal with it or submit to insanity'?" He really is trying to bite back on his cynicism and dislike of the entire idea for the sake of opening himself to trying something new. But fuck, is this against every instinct he's built up over the last handful of decades. "Neither of those options are exactly the key to a life most people would want."

Tom let out a heavy sigh and motioned toward the chair across from Dorian. Sitting probably would be necessary. It felt as though this conversation had the potential to be long and taxing. "Yes. I used to think there were things that might be truly immortal or eternal; gods or whatever. My life, and being here especially, has taught me that may be a flawed, mortal perspective."

"If by deal with it, you mean stop self isolation, yes." Tom shakes his head more to himself than anything. "I lived isolated for years. As a lone astronaut on missions and then a castaway among aliens, then even worse isolation returning to Earth. It's given me a lot of time to think about what isolation means and does to a person over decades."

He pauses with a furrowed brow and then shrugs. "The truth is that I think a lot of people believe they are isolated, act like they are for whatever reason but haven't ever truly been isolated. It's as if it is more comfortable to trick themselves into thinking they are and have to be truly alone than see that they aren't."

If one can say that Dorian is dressed elegantly... than it is fair to say that Harley is the exact opposite of elegant. She is already is wearing her bright yellow overalls, a neon pink halter top, and a pair of roller skates.

"How do you start? Don't know how one starts. Just sort of happens..."

The relaxed response annoys Dorian for reasons he can't put his finger on, and his own reply ends up coming out a touch edged.

"To some, perhaps. Not all of us fall into such things so easily. Especially if it's not something someone chooses for themselves, or if they have good reason to not be trusting."

"Oh you know someone who has things falling into their life easily?" Harley responds. "I was never one to rely on other people for the longest time."

"But now, after looking back on some things that happened, I like to believe I got some people who will watch my back."

"I am still prepared for them not being there. Just in case."

The elaboration is helpful. Dorian sits up a bit more pertly, sharp and hauntingly bright blue eyes watching Harley closely.

"What made you change your mind?"

"It was basically... when I went through some serious stuff. And they were there for me through it."

"I mean... just last year-ish, my crazy ex tried to kill me. And my friends stood up to him. And protected me."

"Not a lot of people would put their life in danger for another person. Ya'know?"

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Love in the Time of Monsters

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