bigapplesauce | don't get lost in heaven, they got locks on the gate [open to multiple]

Existence without form or breath or shape is disorienting, the spread of atoms over a plane he doesn't recognize, with the repeated dissolutions and reshapings of an indistinct self. At one point there was pain, and the unspooling of himself into light and purpose, and for a long while there is only amorphous drifting. He hits barriers, dissonant and frequent, where once he should have crossed from one plane to another, one reality to the next, in an effortless slide of energy across the universal boundaries. It is difficult to define emotional state outside of the human context - he only knows that he is not human - but it is a state of affairs that generates confused distress.

Temporal sequencing becomes a problem.

Awareness, too, is difficult to achieve. Gradually he is able to pull together the various components that comprise himself and reshape them into something capable of perception, but doing so strikes him with a revelation disconsolate, and that is that there are no Others here - no Ancients, nothing, simply an empty plane of shifting light and bottomless dark. And he is alone.

He knows he did this, and it was for a reason. But he finds he cannot remember anything, not immediately, and when the memories trickle back with his concentrated effort they are unfiltered and unstructured and unordered until finally he can impose the alien concept of linear time upon the thing, and fully interpret what he is in comparison to what he was.

Daniel Jackson.

The name is the linchpin that generates the outward ripples, spreading from that singular point of origin. It triggers the flood of remembrance, the 'gate, Manhattan, the locked-away knowledge that was once sealed in his head but now coalesces seamlessly into the whole of him now. He cannot delineate his form by shape or size or mass, not any longer, but now he remembers, he remembers what it is he can do and how it is he can do it.

He starts small because he must, drifting as a pair of hydrogen atoms while he glimpses the city on a reduced scale. Then he builds to it, the recollection of his shape. Spectrally manifesting was never truly allowed before, but if there are no Others then he is not bound by their laws. He assembles a body that resembles the one that was human and familiar, and projects it. It takes two tries to succeed, three to sustain it for longer than a meaningless collection of seconds, and no matter what he tries he cannot force his shape to manifest with glasses. Apparently his inner self, or however he chooses to define it, does not need them.

He loses track of how many attempts he makes before he can maintain his form visibly for any significant length of time. But finally, in a ragged burst of energy, the bewildered shape of Daniel Jackson reappears in Manhattan, and there he stays.

[ooc: Daniel Ascended back during the Rift Shitfit of September 4th, and he's only just figured out how to Do Things in his new state of being. Right now he's completely intangible and frequently phasing in and out of visible existence. I've added to his handy-dandy reference post as to what he can and can't do in this state. He can also show up LITERALLY ANYWHERE so if you want in on Ascended funtimes just pick a date and a location, or Daniel can pick one, or whatever.]

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Johnny stares at the apparition, the man, whatever he is now, somewhat taken aback. "I know," he says. "I mean, I... I know." What else can he say? Yeah, he knows that. Doesn't make it easier to cope with how much he panicked and how little he tried to do. Nothing will help with that. He knows from experience.

"Do you know what did this to you?" he asks uneasily.

It's not a perfect reassurance, he knows, but he doesn't know how much or little blame Johnny will yoke over himself regardless of what Daniel says.

"The Rift, I think?" he offers, though he honestly can't be altogether certain of that. Death, when Ascension is involved, is a slow and disorienting thing, painful to the point where the memories become utterly distorted, and he hadn't been in a form that was capable of analyzing what had actually happened to him at the time. "It's the only explanation that really makes sense."

Johnny nods, marginally relieved that his guess was right. Though relief is all wrong. There's nothing good about this situation.

"Why," he says, not really a question, because why does the fuckin Rift do anything. "Why would it..." He cuts himself off in pained frustration. Daniel doesn't deserve this. When the Rift pulls shit on him, sure, fine, it's as expected, but not Daniel. Too fuckin late, anyhow.

Johnny's agitation is spiking and painful and difficult to ignore, and he can't ignore it, really. It's edged all around him.

"It wasn't your fault," he says gently, and he's not precisely exactly all the way certain about whether that's a mental loop Johnny's locked himself into? But the feeling of utter helplessness while something like that just happens, that's enough to send anyone down a guilty spiral. And he's glimpsed enough of Johnny, in snatches of dreams and the world's worst first meeting, to know that, for him, that's more than a slight possibility. "It happened. I don't - really know why yet."

The yet is important, because at the very least, like this he can comprehend the Rift a shade more completely, a bit more fully. When it'd first happened he'd gotten the vague sense of anger, or injustice radiating from the thing, but the emotions had been so alien and he'd been so alien that he wasn't sure what to make of it. He's still not.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Okay."

The comfort is nice, even if it doesn't quite solve everything. It's nice and he believes that this is really happening, because no part of him could invent such a gentle apparition. He hugs his rabbit, soothing him with a hand between his ears.

"Are you letting everyone else know you're still here?" he asks. "Or did you just come visit me?"

"I mean, uh." If his feet were physical manifestations, Daniel gets the faint impression that he'd be shuffling them, though foot-shuffling hasn't generally been his precedent. Or maybe it has. It's difficult to tell in this state. "I'm still - getting the hang of this, more or less. Communication was a priority, to you especially, it's just that, um."

He trails loosely off and loses focus of the room for a bit, lost in its composition and structure before he pulls himself back.

"It was - kind of an accident," he says, with a creeping return of that distinctly apologetic note. "Manifesting here, I mean. I didn't mean to startle you or, or anything."

"Oh," says Johnny, blinking in surprise. He's certainly not hurt by this reveal, if anything he's relieved, relieved that it wasn't necessarily obligation that brought Daniel here, relieved he wasn't first on some sort of list, relieved - that this isn't about him.

He likes it when things aren't about him.

'To you especially' is an easy phrase to ignore. He nods slightly. "It's okay," he says. "I'm glad to see you. Even if it's all..." He shrugs, not sure how to even try to describe this.

"So... are you... do you have the hang of it now, or... like if you suddenly vanish, should I not worry?" It all feels very tenuous. He might go at any moment and that will wrench so hard, Johnny can feel that on the horizon. Not that he needs this company but that he doesn't like the thought of Daniel dematerializing out of his apartment, again.

"It - might, yeah." It's teeth-grinding, not wielding the kind of complete certainty and authority that he should be given the latest changes to his personal life. That would have actually been useful here. But - and he's going to pin this one squarely on the Rift - it doesn't help that things here are just utterly, infinitely, frustratingly more difficult.

"I'm still figuring it out, let's just say," he adds, though he's not sure if that'll do much for comfort. "Keeping a corporeal shape isn't exactly proving to be as easy as it should be."

"Well," says Johnny, looking him up and down. "You're doing a pretty bang-up job of it so far as I can tell."

This is so weird. He almost wants to laugh. There is relief, slow and growing, because Daniel's alive and he seems - fine, after a fashion, and this is as Rush said it would be, even if he said it in the shittiest way imaginable.

"Hey, listen," he says, looking up, locking eyes, enough of that avoidant shit. "I'm... I'm glad you're okay. You know, mostly."

Selfish reasons aside. Daniel deserves it.

Edited 2015-06-03 16:23 (UTC)

He curves the corners of his projection's mouth into a smile, small and warm.

"I was a little worried," he admits. "Seeing something like that, uh - I realize that could be a lot. So I'm glad you're okay, too, you know, and - "

There's a swelling sense of disconnect, and a strange expression flickers over his face for a moment.

"Oh," he says, torn between annoyance and disappointment. "Oh, damn i- "

His shape is gone in the next eyeblink, a discontented swirl of energy bleeding silently, imperceptibly away again.

Johnny jerks forward at the sudden turn in Daniel's manner, but it's too late to react, then he's gone.

Well. So much for that. Good thing he asked.

He settles back down, looking at his rabbit, trying to bring himself down. Everything's okay.

Finally he gets up, a little shaky. Best clean up the mess in the kitchen.

don't get lost in heaven, they got locks on the gate [open to multiple]

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