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[This is wrong.
Saphir can't pin down what's wrong, exactly, but something is creeping up on him. For one, he isn't mentally referring to himself with his alias any more. For another, he's... comfortable, almost. He eats the food provided by his droned wife happily, leans in for a kiss just before he leaves for work, punctual as always... but halfway through the motion, he stops himself. This isn't who he is. He's not happily married, especially not to a woman, which the Mayfield-compliant half him finds rather reprehensible. Saphir... Dist as never been confused or ashamed of who he is, but that unfamiliar guilt is starting to creep up on him.
It's an illusion, he tells himself, hurriedly rushing out the door. The door to his home, in fact, the home he's had forever, all those memories... no. His prison. His prison filled with unthinking drones. The prison that tortures them all without a thought. Though, it's been quiet, so perhaps that's over... maybe he can settle down, make a life here...]
Action A:
[Saphir can be seen doing his work in the library, vacillating between cheerfully doing what's expected of him and stopping, pensive, fighting with himself. Unsure.]
Action B:
[Dist is wandering town, clearly pensive and confused. He doesn't even know which memories are real any more. He doesn't know who he is and who he's becoming, even which reality he'd prefer. On the one hand, his Professor was alive, he and Jade are still friends and colleagues, he has a happy, normal life... on the other, what if all of that is a sham? He can't decide. He's walking robotically, occasionally simply stopping in the middle of the sidewalk/park, thinking. Searching for truth. Trying to cease the crossfire in his mind. Clearly, he's not watching where he's going.]
Action C:
[Olney's Tavern. One half of him wants a simple beer, the other wants a fancy cocktail. He takes both. Alcohol makes everything better, doesn't it?]
Phone:
...Which reality is right? I can't decide.
[Elaboration? That's for the sober.]
[This is wrong.
Saphir can't pin down what's wrong, exactly, but something is creeping up on him. For one, he isn't mentally referring to himself with his alias any more. For another, he's... comfortable, almost. He eats the food provided by his droned wife happily, leans in for a kiss just before he leaves for work, punctual as always... but halfway through the motion, he stops himself. This isn't who he is. He's not happily married, especially not to a woman, which the Mayfield-compliant half him finds rather reprehensible. Saphir... Dist as never been confused or ashamed of who he is, but that unfamiliar guilt is starting to creep up on him.
It's an illusion, he tells himself, hurriedly rushing out the door. The door to his home, in fact, the home he's had forever, all those memories... no. His prison. His prison filled with unthinking drones. The prison that tortures them all without a thought. Though, it's been quiet, so perhaps that's over... maybe he can settle down, make a life here...]
Action A:
[Saphir can be seen doing his work in the library, vacillating between cheerfully doing what's expected of him and stopping, pensive, fighting with himself. Unsure.]
Action B:
[Dist is wandering town, clearly pensive and confused. He doesn't even know which memories are real any more. He doesn't know who he is and who he's becoming, even which reality he'd prefer. On the one hand, his Professor was alive, he and Jade are still friends and colleagues, he has a happy, normal life... on the other, what if all of that is a sham? He can't decide. He's walking robotically, occasionally simply stopping in the middle of the sidewalk/park, thinking. Searching for truth. Trying to cease the crossfire in his mind. Clearly, he's not watching where he's going.]
Action C:
[Olney's Tavern. One half of him wants a simple beer, the other wants a fancy cocktail. He takes both. Alcohol makes everything better, doesn't it?]
Phone:
...Which reality is right? I can't decide.
[Elaboration? That's for the sober.]
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
B
Date: 2011-07-04 08:20 am (UTC)Oh! Saphir! Sorry, I wasn't watching... wait, no - that's wrong.
Dist the Rose.
[ There's quite a few emotional cues in her face, but they don't seem to match up right now. ]
I-I'm sorry, not quite tracking today.
Re: B
Date: 2011-07-04 09:32 pm (UTC)...Neither am I. Something's wrong.
How do you know that name?
no subject
Date: 2011-07-04 10:05 pm (UTC)[ Her face twists in a pained smile. ]
It's the name of my senior prom date at Mayfield High... except I went to senior prom with Duc Tranh at Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow.
[ Ilsa's expression reflects a fear that she might be losing her mind. ]
C
Date: 2011-07-04 08:26 am (UTC)Blunt head trauma.Alcohol. Eddie gestures to the stool next to Dist.]This seat taken, Saphir?
[...somehow he feels as though he's just spoken a name that he shouldn't have known.]
Re: C
Date: 2011-07-04 07:32 pm (UTC)Not at all. Maybe you can help figure this out.
[He hasn't touched either drink. He doesn't know which to take.]
no subject
Date: 2011-07-04 09:13 pm (UTC)Who's the beer for?
[As far as the Riddler's concerned, Dist always did love his fruity cocktails.]
no subject
Date: 2011-07-04 09:27 pm (UTC)[Dist... Saphir... Dist runs his hand through his hair, staring at the drinks like they can tell him what's going on.]
...Edward Nashton. Right? We went to school together.
no subject
Date: 2011-07-04 09:38 pm (UTC)...no, you... you shouldn't have known that name. You couldn't have known it.
[Just as Edward shouldn't have known Saphir's---Dist's.]
no subject
Date: 2011-07-04 10:04 pm (UTC)[Oh. Oh.]
no subject
Date: 2011-07-04 10:08 pm (UTC)[Suddenly, he blinks. Shakes his head in mild confusion. He hasn't already lost his train of thought, has he?]
C
Date: 2011-07-04 04:10 pm (UTC)[He stood behind the bar with a clearly confused expression on his face, flipping through a pair of notebooks. Whatever language this was written in, he knew he couldn't read it--and yet he knew he should have been able to. This was obviously something important, so why couldn't he figure out what it was?]
Re: C
Date: 2011-07-04 08:23 pm (UTC)[The man looks as confused as Dist feels. This is a citywide phenomenon, apparently, and both sides of him want to get to the bottom of it.]
no subject
Date: 2011-07-04 08:36 pm (UTC)[He set the open notebook down on the bar--whatever was written on its pages, it had been done so in a form of Irish Gaelic not used for at least two thousand years. Lancer should have known that, knew he should have understood how to read it, and yet...nothing. Barely a word of it made sense to him.]
I wrote this, I know I did. But I can't read it. I have no idea what it was I wrote down, either.
Phone
Date: 2011-07-04 05:41 pm (UTC)Isn't there?
Re: Phone
Date: 2011-07-04 08:24 pm (UTC)Phone
Date: 2011-07-05 12:00 am (UTC)What is there not to believe? You're not losing it too, are you?
Re: Phone
Date: 2011-07-05 12:08 am (UTC)...Well, I might be. I... I think I might have grown up here.
Phone
Date: 2011-07-05 12:32 am (UTC)A lot of people seem to be forgetting that today.
Phone
Date: 2011-07-05 12:59 am (UTC)[Unless it is. It's so vivid... and he can't shake the doubt.]
What's wrong with you?
Re: Phone
Date: 2011-07-05 02:40 am (UTC)Nothing's wrong with me! I'm just hearing all these people talk stupid insanity over the phones, that's all!