Hawke sat quietly on the floor in a corner of his cell, watching Novak draw through their mind. Though their cells were right next to each other, which meant they couldn't see the other occupant, Novak often opened their senses for Hawke to occupy, knowing that being in someone else's head helped to calm him.
Novak was using charcoal today - the crayons were scattered under the bed, where they couldn't see them. In an uncharacteristically emotional state some days ago, they'd had a minor tantrum after returning from experimentation, set off by the bright colour of the crayons. Three had been broken in the process, and wouldn't be replaced for a while yet. Novak's privileges only extended so far. They hadn't had the heart to get rid of colours completely. Crayon drawings were still taped to the walls, all carefully arranged in an attempt to make something (anything) out of the uniformly white cell.
Novak was on the bed, pushed against the wall so that they could be as close to Hawke as possible (barring the wall between them), lying on their side. Hawke watched as Novak sketched a cylindrical structure, outlining barren land around it. Hawke had seen this before, it was another of Novak's takes on what the facility might look like. Always different structures involving circular shapes, always different landscapes on the outside - once a dense forest, once an island in the middle of the sea, once a platform of clouds in the sky. Personally, Hawke liked the barren field best, in such a place as evil as this it seemed highly unlikely that anything could grow and flourish around it.
It was quiet at first, with only the faint sounds of breathing and paper rustling in the air. Until Ivy's voice rang out, startlingly loud. "Specter, what's the date?"
The reply was softer, but no less jarring. Monday. Even if he weren't telepathic, Hawke could feel the tension radiating from Ivy's direction. They all knew Mondays were the worst, the guards eager to take out their frustrations of the previous day on whoever was lucky enough to attract attention. And they all knew the person who was usually the centre of attention on Mondays.
He could feel Ivy's gaze on him, but chose to ignore it, instead closing his eyes and tipping his head back, as if by pretending that the world didn't exist he could push the inevitable back by a few minutes. He loved Ivy, he really did, but on Mondays he was less inclined to forgive reminders of what was coming. He sank further into Novak's mind. [ So what happens next? ]
[ Wait. ] As Specter talked, Novak added a sky. Out of the sky came a shadow, which took shape under the stick of charcoal, forming a figure towering over the structure. Their hand paused briefly, looking up to glance at Specter reading, meeting his gaze with an ironic smile. "What if there's a God for everyone? And these Gods are all upstairs -" they jabbed the charcoal in the general direction of the ceiling, "fighting over who gets to do what? He was praying to me, no, he was praying to me."
It all bordered on absurdity, of course. People made up Gods the same reason they made up lies; to give themselves purposes and excuses. If there were Gods worrying over who was praying to them then the kids' Gods must have been sleeping the sleep of the dead, to have ignored their charges for all their lives. In here, purpose was false. It was sitting day in, day out, waiting for the pain then waiting for it to subside, learning every square inch of their stupid white cells.
Between Novak's drawing and Specter's reading, another voice popped into Hawke's head. A voice he hadn't actually heard with his own ears in a long time.
[ Ask Phantom of the Opera over there, if I say I'm Atheist, will he shut the hell up? ]
"I doubt it," Hawke responded, both verbally and mentally. Specter was like a spring, irrepressible. Press him down and he just bounces back up again. [ Sorry. ]
So of course Vlad chose to take matters into his own hands. The music was loud and discordant, and made Vlad's feelings clear. Hawke didn't try to stop his brother today. He was plain exhausted. Had they grated like this, forever? Suddenly he couldn't recall what it was like, trying to play mediator between everyone and everyone else.
At the sound of Vlad's guitar, Hanne jerked awake. She'd been curled up tightly under her blanket, sleeping about as well as she could given that everyone else was awake and talking, that is to say, pretty well, since she'd had literal years to adjust to it. She stretched her legs out, looking down at the mice that had been cupped in her hands from when she fell asleep last night practising on them.
Well, she was looking at the mouse that was cupped in her hands.
She bolted upright, glancing around. No sign of its partner anywhere, and there weren't many places it could hide. She placed the mouse on her pillow, poking a dent in its surface so it wouldn't slide off. "Stay there," she hissed, and when she was sure that the mouse had gotten the message she slid off the bed and peered underneath it, trying to see past Vlad's music and the residual blur of sleep. Still no mouse. "Where could...?"
Novak stayed quiet, adding features to the figure. It was becoming clear what they were trying to draw, clearly inspired by Specter's little trip into theology. The high forehead, the sardonic smile, the shadowed jaw... Novak was generally more funny with their words than with their drawings, but this one almost made Hawke laugh. Almost. No one in their right mind except Novak would draw Vlad as a God raining hellfire down on the facility.
Specter eventually gave up on his reading, and Vlad's music settled into something calmer as Novak put the finishing touches on the drawing. Underneath that, Vlad, God of War was written, underscored twice, and underneath that in smaller script, the reckoning. [ Think he'll like it? ]
[ I'm pretty sure he'll love it. ]
"V, peep this," Novak said out loud, at the same time directing Hawke to show his brother the drawing. Hawke concentrated, transferring the image from one brain to another, trying to keep from giggling. No doubt it would become Vlad's ultimate fantasy.
No matter how she looked, Hanne just could not find the stupid mouse. She'd checked the bed, the fence, nothing. "Has anyone seen my mouse?" she asked, still on her hands and knees on the floor. Maybe it'd climbed the fence somehow and gone off exploring in a different cell. Hopefully not Ivy's.
Novak was using charcoal today - the crayons were scattered under the bed, where they couldn't see them. In an uncharacteristically emotional state some days ago, they'd had a minor tantrum after returning from experimentation, set off by the bright colour of the crayons. Three had been broken in the process, and wouldn't be replaced for a while yet. Novak's privileges only extended so far. They hadn't had the heart to get rid of colours completely. Crayon drawings were still taped to the walls, all carefully arranged in an attempt to make something (anything) out of the uniformly white cell.
Novak was on the bed, pushed against the wall so that they could be as close to Hawke as possible (barring the wall between them), lying on their side. Hawke watched as Novak sketched a cylindrical structure, outlining barren land around it. Hawke had seen this before, it was another of Novak's takes on what the facility might look like. Always different structures involving circular shapes, always different landscapes on the outside - once a dense forest, once an island in the middle of the sea, once a platform of clouds in the sky. Personally, Hawke liked the barren field best, in such a place as evil as this it seemed highly unlikely that anything could grow and flourish around it.
It was quiet at first, with only the faint sounds of breathing and paper rustling in the air. Until Ivy's voice rang out, startlingly loud. "Specter, what's the date?"
The reply was softer, but no less jarring. Monday. Even if he weren't telepathic, Hawke could feel the tension radiating from Ivy's direction. They all knew Mondays were the worst, the guards eager to take out their frustrations of the previous day on whoever was lucky enough to attract attention. And they all knew the person who was usually the centre of attention on Mondays.
He could feel Ivy's gaze on him, but chose to ignore it, instead closing his eyes and tipping his head back, as if by pretending that the world didn't exist he could push the inevitable back by a few minutes. He loved Ivy, he really did, but on Mondays he was less inclined to forgive reminders of what was coming. He sank further into Novak's mind. [ So what happens next? ]
[ Wait. ] As Specter talked, Novak added a sky. Out of the sky came a shadow, which took shape under the stick of charcoal, forming a figure towering over the structure. Their hand paused briefly, looking up to glance at Specter reading, meeting his gaze with an ironic smile. "What if there's a God for everyone? And these Gods are all upstairs -" they jabbed the charcoal in the general direction of the ceiling, "fighting over who gets to do what? He was praying to me, no, he was praying to me."
It all bordered on absurdity, of course. People made up Gods the same reason they made up lies; to give themselves purposes and excuses. If there were Gods worrying over who was praying to them then the kids' Gods must have been sleeping the sleep of the dead, to have ignored their charges for all their lives. In here, purpose was false. It was sitting day in, day out, waiting for the pain then waiting for it to subside, learning every square inch of their stupid white cells.
Between Novak's drawing and Specter's reading, another voice popped into Hawke's head. A voice he hadn't actually heard with his own ears in a long time.
[ Ask Phantom of the Opera over there, if I say I'm Atheist, will he shut the hell up? ]
"I doubt it," Hawke responded, both verbally and mentally. Specter was like a spring, irrepressible. Press him down and he just bounces back up again. [ Sorry. ]
So of course Vlad chose to take matters into his own hands. The music was loud and discordant, and made Vlad's feelings clear. Hawke didn't try to stop his brother today. He was plain exhausted. Had they grated like this, forever? Suddenly he couldn't recall what it was like, trying to play mediator between everyone and everyone else.
At the sound of Vlad's guitar, Hanne jerked awake. She'd been curled up tightly under her blanket, sleeping about as well as she could given that everyone else was awake and talking, that is to say, pretty well, since she'd had literal years to adjust to it. She stretched her legs out, looking down at the mice that had been cupped in her hands from when she fell asleep last night practising on them.
Well, she was looking at the mouse that was cupped in her hands.
She bolted upright, glancing around. No sign of its partner anywhere, and there weren't many places it could hide. She placed the mouse on her pillow, poking a dent in its surface so it wouldn't slide off. "Stay there," she hissed, and when she was sure that the mouse had gotten the message she slid off the bed and peered underneath it, trying to see past Vlad's music and the residual blur of sleep. Still no mouse. "Where could...?"
Novak stayed quiet, adding features to the figure. It was becoming clear what they were trying to draw, clearly inspired by Specter's little trip into theology. The high forehead, the sardonic smile, the shadowed jaw... Novak was generally more funny with their words than with their drawings, but this one almost made Hawke laugh. Almost. No one in their right mind except Novak would draw Vlad as a God raining hellfire down on the facility.
Specter eventually gave up on his reading, and Vlad's music settled into something calmer as Novak put the finishing touches on the drawing. Underneath that, Vlad, God of War was written, underscored twice, and underneath that in smaller script, the reckoning. [ Think he'll like it? ]
[ I'm pretty sure he'll love it. ]
"V, peep this," Novak said out loud, at the same time directing Hawke to show his brother the drawing. Hawke concentrated, transferring the image from one brain to another, trying to keep from giggling. No doubt it would become Vlad's ultimate fantasy.
No matter how she looked, Hanne just could not find the stupid mouse. She'd checked the bed, the fence, nothing. "Has anyone seen my mouse?" she asked, still on her hands and knees on the floor. Maybe it'd climbed the fence somehow and gone off exploring in a different cell. Hopefully not Ivy's.