bigapplesauce | Business as Usual

Current Location: Rebel base
Current Music: February 5, 2013, mid-morning

Entry tags:

Business as Usual

Edgar doesn't realize anything is wrong at first.

He's been spending a lot of time in the base, and when he wakes up early that morning he has already decided to get out into the park for a while. It's barely light out when he leaves, and he doesn't pass anyone in the hallways. It's cold, so the park is empty too, aside from the few dedicated joggers here and there. But they stick to the paths and Edgar prefers to lose himself in the wooded areas. If he doesn't think about it too much, he can almost believe he's back home there.

Edgar sits on a stump and watches the sun rise while Almondine trots around, smelling every tree she can find and darting after things Edgar can't see. The sun is caught in the tops of the trees when she finally struts over to him, looking very satisfied with herself. He smiles and stands, clapping a hand to his leg to call her on as he heads back to the base.

It's once they're back in their quarters that Edgar realizes something's amiss. Having filled Almondine's water dish, he sits on his bed and grabs one of the books he's borrowed from the library from the table by the bed. He opens the book to where he had marked his place with a folded piece of paper and settles in to read a little before a late breakfast.

It takes him a few seconds to realize that he can't read what's written in the book. Frowning, he flips through the pages. They're all written in some sort of gibberish. He checks the spine to be sure it's the same book he was reading before, but there's no help there; whatever's written on the spine is just as unintelligible. Slightly concerned, Edgar checks the other two books he borrowed. They're also indecipherable, as is the small stack of scrap paper - used for communicating - he's collected over his time on the base, and everything in the small notebook he's been using as a sort of journal.

Almondine can clearly sense his growing confusion and she noses his arm. Edgar strokes her head, then signs to her: /I can't read./ Or he tries to. But the shapes his hands form don't make any sense, the motions they follow meaning nothing to him.

Edgar stares at his hands as if they belong to a stranger. He can feel his breath quickening, panic rising inside him, and he isn't sure whether he's going to collapse into the desk chair or start running.

He clasps his hands together so hard they hurt.

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There's a knock on the door and a voice outside, but Edgar can't make out what it says. He and Almondine share a look, then he walks over and opens the door.

It's Daine, and she looks just about how he feels.

"Something's wrong," Daine says, too preoccupied with her own worries to pick up on Edgar's. "I can't talk to Sarge and Molly, and I'm not sure if the problem's with me or them." Turning her gaze to Almondine, she ventures, Can you hear me?

At first, Edgar thought the door had just muffled Daine's voice. Now he can tell that whatever has impacted his ability to read and sign has impacted his ability to hear as well. Daine is talking, but she isn't making any sense.

He frowns at her and tries to wave his hands to get her attention to stop her talking, but she's already turned to Almondine. Almondine, however, just stares at her, cocking her head from side to side in a clear gesture of confusion.

Curse it. All she gets from Almondine is the same sense of bafflement she got from Sarge and Molly. It must be her magic that's acting up, but how? Nothing like this has ever happened before.

Belatedly, she realizes Edgar's been trying to get her attention. "Sorry," she says, holding her hand out to him.

Edgar highly doubts it will work, but he takes the hand Daine has proffered and thinks. I can't read, not my books or my signs.

Then he waits for her reaction.

Daine blinks as she hears Edgar's voice spouting nonsense in her head. It's like he's just making words up. "What?" she asks, nonplussed.

Edgar isn't surprised it didn't work. He's frustrated and confused about what's going on and, if he's truthful, he's a little put out that he can't communicate even via his new telepathic way. He lets out an irritated sigh.

He points to his mouth, then to his ear and makes a confused face and shrugs.

Daine frowns as it hits her: Edgar's having the same problem. For a beat, she's relieved that it's not just her, but then she begins to wonder just how far this goes. Is the entire base having a problem understanding what other folk are trying to say?

What about writing? Daine casts around for some of the scrap paper Edgar usually has on hand, picks up a page, and freezes. It, too, is covered in what looks like gibberish. Her heart sinks despite her feeble attempts to convince herself that maybe Edgar had written such nonsense on purpose, and she picks up a pen with some trepidation. When she tries to write, though she swears her hand moves the way it ought to be moving, the resulting scrawl just looks like a string of random shapes. It doesn't make sense.

She sets the paper and pen down with shaking hands. "What's going on?" she asks, hoping her tone of voice will convey her meaning even if he can't understand the words.

Edgar can completely understand what Daine is feeling. And while he can't understand her question, he gathers the meaning behind it. Unfortunately, he doesn't have any answers for her. He shrugs.

Sighing, Daine considers their next move. She supposes they ought to try and figure out how widespread this is - whatever it is. Giving up on talking (why bother?), she gives Edgar an inquiring look and jerks her head towards the door.

Edgar gives her a smile and a small nod. He starts to sign to Almondine, but remembers himself and claps a hand to his leg instead.

Daine steps back into the hall, where it becomes apparent that the problem isn't just with her and Edgar. There are a few other rebels milling about and looking troubled, and she can hear a few brief snatches of gibberish as folk attempt to communicate. Glancing at Edgar, she points to one of the speakers, then points to her own ear and gives a baffled shrug before raising her eyebrows at him. Does it sound like nonsense to him, too?

Edgar's pretty sure he understands what Daine's asking and he nods. He points to the person nearest them who is talking, points to his own mouth, then his ear, and mimics Daine's shrug. He doesn't understand them either.

Daine sighs in frustration, her thumbnail finding its way to her mouth as she considers how this could have happened. Then again, maybe it's not such a mystery: whenever something strange and unpleasant happens, the cause is usually the same.

Removing her thumb, Daine points accusingly at the ceiling and frowns deeply. It's the gods-curst rift. It has to be.

Edgar isn't entirely sure what Daine's getting at, and he glances up at the ceiling uncertainly. Then it clicks: she must be talking about the rift. He nods in agreement.

His hands feel twitchy - they want to fall into signing, or to take her by the hand so he can talk - so he shoves them in his pockets. He catches Daine's eye, looks around deliberately, then looks back to her and raises his eyebrows and cocks his head in question. What should they do now?

Daine shrugs irritably in response. If it's the rift, she doesn't see how there's anything they can do except wait for things to turn back to normal. However long that takes. Goddess, what if this lasts for days? She's not sure how to convey that question, but it's probably just as well.

Edgar's trying to think of how to give her options when it his him. While the words in his books were gibberish, the few pictures had still made sense, as had the doodles on one of his scrap sheets.

Holding up his hands in the general "stay here" symbol, he ducks back into his room and grabs a few clean sheets of paper and a pencil. He rejoins Daine in the hallway and quickly scribbles a few drawings, double-checking them to make sure he can make sense of them before showing them to Daine.

The first is a set of pictures of a piece of toast and an ice cream cone, the most easily identifiable items of food Edgar could think of off the top of his head. The second is of a few trees with a bench. He points to the first, then to his stomach and raised his eyebrows at Daine: Want to get something to eat? Then he points at the trees and then in the general direction of the base "front door": Want to go out to the park?

Daine watches him go, tugging at the hem of her shirt for want of something to do with her hands. When he returns with more scrap paper and starts to scribble away, she suppresses a sigh, not really expecting to understand whatever he shows her.

But drawings, it seems, are left alone by whatever mischief the rift is working. She smiles when she realizes what he's asking: food or park? Or both, she supposes.

The morning has been unpleasant enough that she doesn't have much appetite, but she hasn't had breakfast and knows she should try to eat something. A trip to the park sounds more pleasant: at least she gets something from the People when she tries to talk to them. She points to the food and nods, holding up one finger, then points to the park and holds up another: food first, park second?

Edgar smiles, relieved to have found at least one way to communicate. He nods to Daine's suggestion and, tucking some of the paper in his pocket, hands her the other half of the stack.

Daine stows her half of the stack away in her own pockets, then starts off in the direction of the mess hall. She's already thinking about what else could be communicated through pictures, and by the time they sit down with their food, she has an idea.

She tugs one of the pieces of paper from her pocked and motions for the pen, realizing too late that she didn't bring one of her own. As she nibbles her toast, she sketches out a little clock. She doesn't bother with the numbers, just a circle with the two hands inside. She adds an arrow curling around the outside of the circle: time passing. She tries to add a question mark, but it comes out all wrong, somehow, so she scribbles it out with a frown.

She moves the paper so it's easier for Edgar to see. She makes an all-encompassing gesture, then points to her clock drawing and gives him an inquiring look. How long will this last? She doesn't really expect him to know an answer, but hopefully he'll at least understand the question.

Edgar watches Daine scribble with interest. However little good language does them now, they can still communicate via concepts, so there's hope there at least.

When she shows him the paper, Edgar is pleased to find he immediately understands what she means. He's able to follow her gesture and expression as well and nods to let her know he does, but the most he can give her for an answer is a sad shrug. He has no idea.

Daine gives him a sad smile in return. At least he understood her; that's something. Still, it'd be much nicer to just be able to talk to him. She folds up the paper and tucks it back into her pocket.

There are no words. Almondine is used to the quiet around Edgar, used to communicating without sound, but now no one is speaking, not even Edgar's hands. She watches them carefully, but they do not form any signs she knows.

Instead, Edgar employs broad gestures she has seen him use with other dogs, dogs not from the farm. She would be insulted but for the look in his eyes every time he uses one. It's a mixture of apology and fear and resignation, and it makes Almondine wish she could tell Edgar that he doesn't have to talk to her in any way if he doesn't want to. She already knows.

Daine glances at Almondine, and it occurs to her that the dog probably isn't having any easier a time of it than the rest of them. If talking doesn't work, Edgar's signs aren't working, either. She can't talk to Almondine the way she normally would, but she tries sending her a gentle sense of inquiry. Is she all right?

Almondine turns to Daine. She can sense something from her - a questioning - and she tries to send back a feeling of calm. She's used to not having words; she's more worried about Edgar.

Holding Daine's gaze for a moment, Almondine then looks at Edgar before looking back at Daine and allowing some of the worry she feels to seep through. Edgar will need someone to get through whatever is happening. So will Daine, if what Almondine keeps sensing from her is correct. They can help each other.

Daine smiles, sending Almondine a sense of reassurance as she reaches out to stroke the crown of her head. They're going to be fine. Eventually. She can't imagine why the rift is doing this (though 'spite' seems a safe enough guess), but it can't last forever, surely.

Edgar furrows his brow at what is clearly an exchange between Almondine and Daine. When Daine looks up from petting Almondine's head, Edgar raises his eyebrows in question and gives a small smile.

He doesn't expect her to answer and, seeing that both their plates are more or less clean, he pushes back from the table and stands. Then he gestures toward the door and gives her an expectant look. He thinks it will do them both good - Daine especially - to get outside.

Daine stands, brushing crumbs from her lap. Then, since Edgar did sort of ask, she points to Almondine, makes a worried expression, and then points to Edgar: Almondine's worried about you. It's not surprising; Almondine's a very clever dog, and probably has as good a grasp on how serious the situation is as anyone else does.

On impulse, Daine takes Edgar's hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze, figuring Almondine will take as much comfort from the gesture as Edgar will. It'll be okay, she thinks firmly to herself.

Edgar gets that without translation and gives Almondine a smile and a stroke on the head.

When Daine suddenly takes his hand, Edgar looks at her. Her face has taken on a determined edge around the smile she still wears. She gives his hand a squeeze, but what he really notices is the unexpected rush of firm optimism, underlined with worry. He stares at her in shock.

Daine blinks at the thunderstruck look Edgar's suddenly wearing, and then she lets go of his hand, baffled and a little self-conscious. She's grown used to taking his hand so he could talk to her, but perhaps she shouldn't've now that he can't. Pressing her lips together, she gives him a sheepish shrug.

Edited 2013-04-15 02:32 (UTC)

Edgar realizes that Daine would not have expected such a reaction to her taking his hand and he quickly takes her hand himself and gives her a smile. It's okay.

He thinks about how to explain what just happened and decides to give it a try, even if it will be difficult (next to impossible, he thinks) to do.

He drops Daine's hand, glad he managed not to react to the faint wave of embarrassment he picked up from her. He holds up his hands in the universal "just a second" gesture. Then, being very big and deliberate in his expressions, he points to himself and adopts an exaggerated frown. Then he points at Daine and adopts a wide grin and, taking her wrist, slips her hand into his. He then points to himself and drops back into his frown, looks at their joined hands with surprise, and points a finger at his chest before rubbing his hand there. He then points to Daine, smiles widely again and points to the smile, then traces his finger from the smile to his chest, which he rubs again.

His voice in her head sounds reassuring, for all that the sounds themselves are gibberish. Daine attempts a less embarrassed smile, though she's not sure how convincing it is.

Her brow furrows as Edgar starts his pantomime. He was sad: all right. She was happy: not exactly, but close enough. She took his hand, which... surprised him? But she could tell as much without the little show, so there must be more to it than that. Something about his heart? Is he ill? No; Almondine would have reacted if that was the case. Something about her smile - her happiness? - and his chest...

And then it hits her - perhaps because her ability to communicate with the People has been reduced to feelings instead of words. He's picking up on her feelings!

But a moment later, she's shaking her head, because that can't be right. Whatever mental connection they forge when touching, it's only ever gone one way: from him to her. It's not as if she's been talking to him with her mind like she does with animals.

Maybe she misunderstood him. Daine presses a hand to her own chest in an echo of his earlier gesture, then points to their still-linked hands, then points to him, her expression wavering between confusion and disbelief. Is he really saying that he can feel what she's feeling?

Edited 2013-04-15 05:18 (UTC)

Hands still joined, Edgar feels every emotion that flutters through Daine - the remnants of her embarrassment, followed closely by confusion at his gestures, then shock quickly overtaken by more confusion and disbelief. She clearly doesn't believe him and is asking whether he means what she thinks he means.

He nods, then repeats a shortened version of his explanation: frowning, pointing to her and smiling, then pointing to their joined hands.

Having her initial guess confirmed does little for her overall bafflement. Why isn't she getting anything from him? Daine points to him with a frown, then to their hands, and then presses her hand to her chest with an exaggerated shake of her head.

Edgar frowns. He isn't sure why it isn't working both ways, though as Daine had never mentioned being able to feel his emotions when he "talked" to her before, maybe his ability only does one type of communication each way. He decides to test it.

He gestures to himself and then holds up a finger. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and draws up the first emotion he can think of that would be different from what Daine is currently feeling: anger. It's the easiest emotion for him to pull up quickly, and he tries to direct it toward her through their clasped hands.

After a minute or so he stops and opens his eyes. He gives Daine a "So?" expression.

Daine watches him with no small amount of curiosity, rightly guessing that he's going to try and send something her way on purpose. She isn't expecting anger, though, and she unconsciously tightens her grip as it blooms in her chest. It fades as Edgar opens his eyes, and she nods in response to his unspoken question. She wouldn't have words even if the rift wasn't already making things difficult in that regard.

Even without the emotion he's getting through their link, Edgar can tell that his choice of "anger" probably wasn't the best. Giving Daine's hand a gentle squeeze, he smiles at her and focuses on feeling reassured.

That's better. Daine smiles back, then releases Edgar's hand. It's a little unnerving, now that she thinks about it, to have him picking up on things she doesn't necessarily intend to have him notice. He'd been able to send her his feelings if he focused on it, but she'd been doing no such thing when he got hers.

Letting out a breath, she inclines her head towards the door. Park?

Daine's clearly unnerved and while Edgar doesn't blame her, he can't help but feel a little amused that he's suddenly the strange one.

He nods in response to her question and gestures for her to lead the way. He's already been to the park once today and doesn't much care what part they head for, so he'll let Daine choose.

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Business as Usual

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