consultation 007 // [accidental video]

[12second_orz]

 - shut it off, I told you to shut it off, shut it off!!

[Tonegawa's hand yanks back from where it flailed out at the laptop, clenched to knuckles threatening to burst through skin, and the glimpse of his face in profile is twisted with fear and horror and loathing; his eyes are fixed on some far point in the general direction of the door, but what

Comments

Re: [action, etc!]

[stoicloyalty]

[ In entering she finds herself nearly side-by-side with her co-workers, who earn from her not even a nod of acknowledgement as her gaze locks onto Tonegawa.

The sight is incredible. Not enough to put her off-guard, but she requires a moment to take it in before forming any plans of action. Having never seen a tightrope-walker perform before, Tonegawa's erratic, uncontrolled movements seem surreal to her, even moreso from outside whatever delusion he is plunged into. The one thing she knows in his routine is his reluctance to listen to reason outside this realm of his.

Only then does she turn slightly to look at his men, sharing a brief gaze loaded with confusion and hesitation on their part, blank observation on hers. Well. If they are too worried to even approach him in this state, she thinks, she will take the appropriate actions in their stead. Chane steps forward up to the front of his desk, gaze steady, just as calmly as she walked to the office, knife still sheathed and held low at her side. It would not do to draw her boss's blood in attack, after all. ]

[12second_orz]

[In the distance, past his own delusions, Tonegawa can just about hear the echo of voices- subordinates, hovering as though in the wings, and for a moment he realises that he's probably making a fucking spectacle of himself. For a moment. Then another gust of wind catches him off guard and he wobbles, and his focus is switched right back to the situation at hand, the one with potentially mortal consequences.

His voice cracks again and he flinches.]

God-fucking-damn it!

[The small part of him still aware of his real surroundings registers Chane moving in his peripheral vision, but for the most part the world around him swims in shadows and bathes in floodlights that do little more than mark his dark, narrow path along the beam, unable to penetrate the fall below. His eyes seem to focus on her briefly, but then he's already gone, willing himself to stay balanced, stay upright.]

[stoicloyalty]

[ Seeing him flail and wobble so, only her expression flinches in mere reaction to his arms waving dangerously close along with the calls of his men behind her, what are you doing, keep away. Yet Chane does not dislodge her strong analytical stare: she is trying to find a pattern, some string of continuity that links up his unpredictable, uncontrolled motions.

Compared to her own reserved movements, it is a difficult task, especially at such a close range. And perhaps she becomes too immersed in it, because when the answer comes to her it is more sensory than worded realisation. In that split-second where Tonegawa's eyes lock with hers, it feels as though wind buffets her figure, an unmeasurable pressure bearing down on her above a bottomless depth-- wind, height. The suddenness and vividness of the realisation finally forces a reaction from her, eyes wide, body tensing: in a way, it is familiar, the same shock of sudden contact when her father chooses to speak with her directly. But the Core prevents that from happening here, and not Tonegawa, nor anybody else, can have access to her mind in the same way.

Brushing off giving a name to that brief vision (or sensation, disturbingly real as it was), only the feelings of it are left; an overwhelming fear of falling. Tonegawa's stumbling makes sense in the context, an environment she can almost see-- actions direct her thoughts this time as she leaps nimbly over the desk with her hands flat atop it for support, to land directly before the tips of Tonegawa's shoes and press the flat of her hand against his chest.

Amongst the buzzing sounds, thoughts, words that seem to fill her mind now with that motion, she picks out one in particular to accompany the careful but firm push of her hand against him, a clear instruction to him in her movement and hard eyes and the echoing in her mind: stop advancing and move back. ]

SORRY ABOUT THE DELAY, uni happened D:

[12second_orz]

[His vague awareness is, now, almost like having double vision; he can see the beam and the darkness, but on top of that or perhaps intermingled with that he can also see the brightness of his office and the people in it. It's a gamble, however, as to which one is the most real- and the only lives he ever gambles with are never his own.

Not of his own free will, at any rate. This isn't a gauntlet he'd ever have chosen to run himself. Surely, in all of these years, he's earned his right to be free of the need to dice with death?

He just about sees her vault over the desk (or is that an empty space filled by the illusion of a desk, and of the woman leaping it?) before, suddenly, he feels hands against his chest. And what in reality might have been a feather-touch seems to him and to his balance to be a calculated shove. It isn't as though he didn't see it in those men that came before: the scrabbling for life, for power over death, with whatever it takes given as sacrifice for the chance to live just one more second, the slimy gutter-dwellers.

Panic overwhelms him, and for a moment all he can do is gasp and stagger backwards, wheeling his arms out to keep himself upright-- and then he hears Chane. No, he doesn't quite hear her, it isn't as simple as that, but the thought enters his head like a bolt of lightning. Stop. Move back.

He stares into the space where Chane is, might be, appalled.]

W-what?! Don't be an idiot! I can't go back! I'll fall! [There's something of himself in that, some outrage at being told what to do.]

/same reasoning for lateness orz

[stoicloyalty]

[ She takes his rebuttal to be a reaction to her gesture, which only serves to make her push more insistently, jaw set tensely. Obviously in a contest of strength or size Tonegawa would overpower her effortlessly -- thus the motion accompanies her will battling with his, rather than a separate gesture.

You can only go back.

There is perhaps less of the instruction in her thoughts now, but none of the force behind it is gone, seeing Tonegawa's eyes glazed over with another scene before him than the drab interior of his office. Regardless of how accustomed she is to actively giving instructions and he to receiving them, his actions are, frankly, ludicrous. Subtle suggestion will not break through to him in this delusion. Chane feels no regret or sympathy for his situation, even as she senses something akin to wind buffetting her, hears the metallic ring of her heel hitting the beam as she steps forward with a second gradual, but strong push. There is only a very fierce sense of duty, the faith in her boss to obey her this once as unquestioningly as she obeys him.

Advancing is impossible. I will guide you back. ]

[12second_orz]

[The pushing on his chest intensifies and for one brief moment of terror he swears he can see a man in front of him, body caved in and blueish skin bloodied, bruised like a rotting fruit.]

Th-they're coming back for-!

[And then the shot of Chane's will through his own rings clear and loud and the image- as well as his own voice- cracks and splits away into the dark again. His breath is caught in his throat, and he's frozen to the spot. Overwhelmingly he doesn't trust this voice, this intrusion, any more than he would trust his own voice calling to him (or perhaps that's it, perhaps he's projecting like he did at the Starside), but at the same time...

I refuse to die like this!

The second push hits him as he begins to relent, and he doesn't fight it: not as much, and not consciously, at least.

He takes a step backwards. His foot plants firmly on metal beam; his balance holds. Just.]

[stoicloyalty]

[ It is impossible for him to 'fall' in this situation. On wide, solid ground, boxed in by four walls, it is clearly impossible for him to walk on anything else; and yet, the urgency of Tonegawa's will to live is tapping into her system, breaking through the bounds of logic. Her pulse gradually quickens as she watches his form hold the semblance of walking, hearing the tap of his shoe on the metal beam underfoot.

For a horrible moment, she feels the plush, furnished room fall away, lost, and around her lays nothing but fear, cold, wind. More than anything else the fact scares her, insides knotted-- why can she feel it? Is it him, she thinks, firing an interrogative stare at Tonegawa, but with his senses clouded by this fantasty-- answers will have to wait.

That first step backwards was successful enough to force her faith into his movements. True to her word, despite that horror of the environment the two of them have been pulled into, she takes a step forward after him, hand unmoving from its firm place against his suit. They can only keep moving back as it is. ]

[12second_orz]

[The wind is gradually dying down again, replaced by the hollow drum of his heart in his ears- a welcome sound, it means he's still alive- and, echoing on some level of his consciousness, the sound of far lighter feet on the beam. Ghostly imprints of footsteps, both here and there. Is she here? In some ways he can see her now more clearly than before, the pale moon of her face barely inches away from his own.

Certainly he can feel her more clearly. Her next move forces him to follow her, step after wobbly step as though they were performing some macabre dance, and in a way it almost works. He's making progress, at least, slow and methodical progress.

Then his foot slides sideways and, with a horrified, gargled gasp, he stumbles backwards into the unknown and into the boundaries of his faith in Chane.]

[stoicloyalty]

[ Reality seems to push itself back in waves with every beat of her heart, not quite enough to dissuade her from narrowly aligning her feet up with the centre of the rail as opposed to her usual reserved walk upon the office carpet. Her concentration on convincing-- encouraging Tonegawa's journey backwards is such that the expression before her is as background, his heaving ribcage a constant pressure against her palm-- there's little compulsion to look anywhere else when beneath her is a drop and around her is empty air.

And then he slips. In a way it's a shock to their situation more than their shared delusion, practically bound together by her guiding hand-- with which she now grasps at the front of his suit, fingers curling tightly into the lapel and yanking upwards. Chane cannot boast of her strength (her boss's full weight is a burden she can by no means support) but her quick reactions, speed and balance speak for themselves, faster than she can remember to gasp in surprise.

Lifting her foot she hooks it at Tonegawa's achilles heel to corral it back onto the line of the beam, and in a twisted, reserved trust exercise, shoves him forward in a relentless backwards march. It's only a couple of metres to the wall behind them, but her frame won't be able to keep him standing by her one-handed grip; stay upright, stay upright. If he falls, it's all over. ]

[12second_orz]

[The sudden clasp at his breast is sharp enough to displace the shock of the trip, as though the tug were enough to wind him. But the breath in him had already caught in his throat by then, his muscles already tightened and ineffectual; the moment passes too quickly for him to put up any real resistance as she hooks his foot back into place. His peripheral vision unblurs.

For a second. Because he scarcely has time to draw breath before she's pushing and shoving again. And again, he doesn't bother to fight it this time. He's too busy concentrating on the rhythm of his heart, of their footsteps, which seem far too loud to be heard over the roar of the wind (is it a roar anymore? Or is that his head spinning? He honestly can't tell) to care about that anymore.

His ankles wobble, his breath comes in shallow gasps like he's fighting to stay above water in a storm, like he's been swept overboard.

But they've done it. His back hits the wall and his eyes snap wider; they focus and unfocus slowly, dizzily, but the floor under his feet feels solid. There's no wind.]

... w-what... in the name of god...