to become a creature free of conscience ] [ 24.10specificsOctober 26 2011, 04:55:55 UTC
[ Arthur is a late sleeper and often it takes him an hour (if he has the hour) to get clear with consciousness again, the very idea of which is just this side of hilarious considering they're all dreaming. But this is one of those mornings when he's been awake a lot longer than he ought to have - having trouble sleeping lately, finding himself just staring at the ceiling and sometimes shifting on the couch to accommodate Pancake's curled form under his knees or on his chest.
Today he was out and about - the library mostly - and when he comes back it's barely noon, that giving him a broad set of hours before he's to head off to the casino for a late shift. Pressing the door closed absently with his heel, he walks into the living room only to catch the peculiar sight of Yusuf perching of all things. Granted, everyone in this flat has been acting strange except for Arthur himself and the dog. He thinks if he could fan our the weird vibes like cards on a table he'd come up with a bunch of faces he didn't recognize.
Peering at the chemist, he opens his mouth to ask him what he's doing when he also hears Pancake's sad, scritch-scratch against the wood of the door, so he heads for that room, opening it, allowing an anxious corgi to skitter and half slide across the varnished wood floor. He runs up and down the hall in the excited, purposeless attitude of free, free at last. Arthur smiles, an uneven upturn of his mouth that makes his eyes crinkle.
Though his attention stays on the quadruped, it's Yusuf he addresses, his posture shifting. ]
Busy?
[ To call the tone dry would be understatement of a kind, but it's still shy of sarcasm - rooted in curiosity rather than commentary. ]
to become a creature free of conscience ] [ 24.10diastereomerOctober 26 2011, 05:30:33 UTC
[ When the door opens, Yusuf all but looks at it like it might save him; as if a little fresh air would blow the stagnant thoughts from his mind like so much dust from a shelf. Why he would think that when these thoughts, this itch, has only manifested in a way that could be described as exponential, if Yusuf desired to plot just how out of control this situation is truly becoming, is beyond him. His attention diverts to his hands before he can take in more than Arthur's usual state of dress.
Arthur's got the lean frame of a man who was made to slip into places without being noticed-- even if he, by all rights, legitimately belongs there. Whether this is a feature he utilizes with any frequency is something Yusuf has not yet discerned yet. There is an increasingly large part of him, though, that wishes he had. Arthur's presence is ultimately innocuous (it is, after all, their flat) but, to Yusuf, is a lesson in trying to convince oneself against a truth that is as visceral as the saliva in his mouth or the press of his short nails into his palms.
Brilliant.
Why would you do that Arthur. ]
Not in the quantifiable sense of the word.
[ He's busy, trying to keep his hands to himself. To keep the sound of nails skittering across the floor from becoming synonymous with the friendly whistle and here doggy doggy that Yusuf knows would catch the little dog's attention (if only for a moment). To keep from seeing the way the veins in Arthur's arms spider across the meat of his muscle, without the pockmarked tissue covering it. ]
to become a creature free of conscience ] [ 24.10specificsOctober 26 2011, 05:48:50 UTC
[ Belonging in a space is not the same as matching it, a crucial truth that Arthur has cleaved to ever since first learning it. He finds it one of the more useful tools of their common trade - so if he wears suits it's not only because he likes them but because a well tailored example of expense suggests a handful of nuanced things about him to employers and team-members alike that he doesn't then have to try for otherwise - a put-togetherness, a reliability, a no-nonsenseness, among other traits. Similarly a suit can lose him easily on Wall Street or in the well groomed blocks of any given metropolis; he becomes not Arthur but simply someone. In this apartment however he is in almost two halves, one part Arthur the other part all the little pieces that go into making him an idea of Arthur, which if he's honest is easier sometimes. It's not something he has to try and understand.
With Yusuf living here it's true that more of the latter has fought for ground with the former, but the fact of living also with Eames means it ends up pretty even. One moment they could all just be running another long con together, the next it's painfully clear that is just not the case - arguments about dog food that aren't actually about dog food at all.
Arthur is on his way to kneeling to catch Pancake in his arms when Yusuf replies so he pauses mid-stoop, arms dropping to his sides straight again as he stands up proper, brow arching. ]
But 'busy' in some other sense?
[ He says it like he's defining a yellow traffic light - slow and a bit wary as he perches on the back of the couch, which would have them facing opposite directions except that he keeps his head turned to keep his eyes on Yusuf, curious. ]
to become a creature free of conscience ] [ 24.10diastereomerOctober 26 2011, 06:16:39 UTC
[ The sound of prancing (and really, that's exactly what Pancake does when he sees Arthur or... anything, but Arthur without fail) is enough to remind him of--
horn, keratin, protein, fibrous structural proteins, spindles, micrographs of red on black like so much smearing after the initial incision--
Which reminds him of nothing. Just Pancake. The little dog that likes to pretend he can't jump up and commandeer Yusuf's bed when he's there to pick the canine up but can always seem to make the jump when Rhada is curled in the center; little more guiding Pancake than mischief and an above average ability to scent foreign things. It doesn't remind him of knowing what the difference between sleep and paralysis is, and what makes the line between the two of them begin to fade. There is no reason for him to think of such things, morbid and not even relatively applicable to the situation at hand-- the fact that there is no situation at hand to speak of. ]
Spiritually. Intellectually. [ Yusuf spares a glance over his shoulder, knowing that he would probably bite his tongue if the fit of that suit jacket across narrow shoulders wasn't becoming one of those things he's getting used to. ] Morally?
to become a creature free of conscience ] [ 24.10specificsOctober 26 2011, 08:28:52 UTC
True. [ Is the easy agreement from Arthur's mouth those his eyes linger and then flicker across Yusuf as if in a brief tell of searching before he slips off the couch after all to crouch near the floor - not quite kneeling cupping the corgi's face and then rubbing behind his ears obligingly. Though well tailored as all pieces like this are, his jacket allows a bit of give, only the slight tug of tension in the fabric across his shoulderblades. Still, it's enough that he straightens to standing normally in full again soon, rolling his shoulders back the modest increment he can.
A sort of compromise, he doesn't change but sheds the jacket and drapes it with easy carefulness over the back of the nearest chair and heading back into the kitchen for a second, calling back without looking at Yusuf. ]
Want anything?
[ For his part, Arthur just pours a glass of water while Pancake runs into his ankles, twice, rubbing his little head on him reminiscent of a cat more than anything else. Taking lessons from Rhada, maybe. ]
to become a creature free of conscience ] [ 24.10diastereomerOctober 26 2011, 22:01:15 UTC
Nothing from the kitchen, thank you.
[ Except maybe the little dog that followed Arthur into the kitchen. Yusuf can just see Pancake's little bum sticking out from around the open doorway, wagging his entire backside to and fro in an attempt to move the little nub of a tail. Evolution-- or is it breeding?-- hasn't favored Pancake's build; structurally unsound near the middle and too low to the ground to compensate for his length.
The knowledge that removing several vertebrae from the dog's back would only serve to worsen his condition (from risk to... well...) is becoming less and less relevant as the other thoughts creep in. Surely a working knowledge of vertebrate animals would be sufficient to perform minor surgery- besides, this is only a dream. Nothing truly bad can happen here, because none of it is real. Ultimately, he wouldn't be helping anyone but himself, feeding a curiosity that has never gripped him quite so fiercely. Yusuf has a surprisingly flexible conscience, and it rarely gets in the way of things he wants.
If he had thought he wanted to wake up before, Yusuf would very much like to wake up now. ]
Though we should probably have a conversation about those schematics at some point. [ You know what he's talking about, Arthur. ] Before this dream drives me completely mad.
to become a creature free of conscience ] [ 24.10specificsOctober 27 2011, 01:12:52 UTC
[ Glass of water in hand, corgi gnawing on his ankle, Arthur returns to the living room, nodding (yes I know what you mean) and circling the couch to get at the entertainment center - not more than wooden platforming and shelves. There's a seemingly random assortment of books hedging in each other's way for space, one of which is Jack Kerouac's The Dharma Bums. It's this one Arthur picks up and brings to the couch, sitting with his shins pressing into the side of the coffee table, sparing a hand for Pancake's ears as the dog hops valiantly up and attempts - it seems - to cannonball into Arthur's side. Opening the book it turns out to not actually be Kerouac at all but various notes - legitimate chicken scratch most likely to anyone not Arthur and diagrams - as well as some new dream theory they've each somehow mocked up in one way or another so-far.
He offers it over to Yusuf, pinched between index and center finger. ] Redrafted, slightly.
What kind of conversation though? [ Accuracy, application, other? ]
to become a creature free of conscience ] [ 24.10diastereomerNovember 5 2011, 06:01:49 UTC
[ The offered book should interest him more than the sight of the corgi's exposed side, white fur on the soft underbelly of the dog-- not that there is anything particularly hardened about Pancake. But Yusuf has seen this part of the dog before; has run his hands over his belly without a thought to how many ribs are underneath the skin that holds the little dog together and what it would feel like to slowly curl his fingers underneath them until his hands were warm and wet and stained so red.
He takes the book and stares at the chicken scratch-- the penmanship is, if possible, worse than Eames' spelling. It's mostly equations and arrows drawn from one place to another, so Yusuf manages and pretends he can read read the parts that mostly look like a child's attempt at Urdu. The pages are thin and the paper is barely indented from Arthur's pen, not at all how Yusuf writes (quick, harsh strokes against the page, enough to make the ink bleed through) but somehow messier for it. ]
For now, the one that involves my expertise. [ Chemicals. Administration. Needles underneath the skin, connecting the body to a machine thats scattered about in so many parts right here at Yusuf's fingertips. And isn't that just funny because bodies are exactly that easy to take apart... ]
A lot of this is going to be trial and error, you understand?
to become a creature free of conscience ] [ 24.10specificsNovember 10 2011, 07:03:47 UTC
Obviously. [ Arthur replies dryly but there's a patent seriousness underneath the superficial tone, something about the shift of his posture that communicates the unconscious transition from someone moving around his 'home' to someone in a business meeting. He has always had a hard time meshing the two so it's no wonder, but the additional result is that Pancake ends up just curling up in his lap when Arthur's hand drops away.
Trial and error being what he thinks is a given, Arthur has considered the pros and cons of guinea pig status but the truth is it's still the most practical to have it done to himself, which he doesn't over-think. It's just how it most often tends to be, a stable dreamer (until now maybe) and not a hinging point as far as the things he does, whether for a job or in this case, just as part of a team trying to understand a dream from the inside out. ] It'll be fine.
[ He can't really imagine much worse than what's happened already so this will actually be more a return to what he's accustomed to as far as he's concerned. What Yusuf's worries might be specifically however, he would like to hear and he pauses, eying the chemist as he scans the schematics. ] Anything specific you think might be a problem?
[ Offhand. Beyond the device being, you know, questionably complete - once they even get it to that stage. ]
Today he was out and about - the library mostly - and when he comes back it's barely noon, that giving him a broad set of hours before he's to head off to the casino for a late shift. Pressing the door closed absently with his heel, he walks into the living room only to catch the peculiar sight of Yusuf perching of all things. Granted, everyone in this flat has been acting strange except for Arthur himself and the dog. He thinks if he could fan our the weird vibes like cards on a table he'd come up with a bunch of faces he didn't recognize.
Peering at the chemist, he opens his mouth to ask him what he's doing when he also hears Pancake's sad, scritch-scratch against the wood of the door, so he heads for that room, opening it, allowing an anxious corgi to skitter and half slide across the varnished wood floor. He runs up and down the hall in the excited, purposeless attitude of free, free at last. Arthur smiles, an uneven upturn of his mouth that makes his eyes crinkle.
Though his attention stays on the quadruped, it's Yusuf he addresses, his posture shifting. ]
Busy?
[ To call the tone dry would be understatement of a kind, but it's still shy of sarcasm - rooted in curiosity rather than commentary. ]
Reply
Arthur's got the lean frame of a man who was made to slip into places without being noticed-- even if he, by all rights, legitimately belongs there. Whether this is a feature he utilizes with any frequency is something Yusuf has not yet discerned yet. There is an increasingly large part of him, though, that wishes he had. Arthur's presence is ultimately innocuous (it is, after all, their flat) but, to Yusuf, is a lesson in trying to convince oneself against a truth that is as visceral as the saliva in his mouth or the press of his short nails into his palms.
Brilliant.
Why would you do that Arthur. ]
Not in the quantifiable sense of the word.
[ He's busy, trying to keep his hands to himself. To keep the sound of nails skittering across the floor from becoming synonymous with the friendly whistle and here doggy doggy that Yusuf knows would catch the little dog's attention (if only for a moment). To keep from seeing the way the veins in Arthur's arms spider across the meat of his muscle, without the pockmarked tissue covering it. ]
Reply
With Yusuf living here it's true that more of the latter has fought for ground with the former, but the fact of living also with Eames means it ends up pretty even. One moment they could all just be running another long con together, the next it's painfully clear that is just not the case - arguments about dog food that aren't actually about dog food at all.
Arthur is on his way to kneeling to catch Pancake in his arms when Yusuf replies so he pauses mid-stoop, arms dropping to his sides straight again as he stands up proper, brow arching. ]
But 'busy' in some other sense?
[ He says it like he's defining a yellow traffic light - slow and a bit wary as he perches on the back of the couch, which would have them facing opposite directions except that he keeps his head turned to keep his eyes on Yusuf, curious. ]
Reply
horn, keratin, protein, fibrous structural proteins, spindles, micrographs of red on black like so much smearing after the initial incision--
Which reminds him of nothing. Just Pancake. The little dog that likes to pretend he can't jump up and commandeer Yusuf's bed when he's there to pick the canine up but can always seem to make the jump when Rhada is curled in the center; little more guiding Pancake than mischief and an above average ability to scent foreign things. It doesn't remind him of knowing what the difference between sleep and paralysis is, and what makes the line between the two of them begin to fade. There is no reason for him to think of such things, morbid and not even relatively applicable to the situation at hand-- the fact that there is no situation at hand to speak of. ]
Spiritually. Intellectually. [ Yusuf spares a glance over his shoulder, knowing that he would probably bite his tongue if the fit of that suit jacket across narrow shoulders wasn't becoming one of those things he's getting used to. ] Morally?
There are many ways to be busy.
Reply
A sort of compromise, he doesn't change but sheds the jacket and drapes it with easy carefulness over the back of the nearest chair and heading back into the kitchen for a second, calling back without looking at Yusuf. ]
Want anything?
[ For his part, Arthur just pours a glass of water while Pancake runs into his ankles, twice, rubbing his little head on him reminiscent of a cat more than anything else. Taking lessons from Rhada, maybe. ]
Reply
[ Except maybe the little dog that followed Arthur into the kitchen. Yusuf can just see Pancake's little bum sticking out from around the open doorway, wagging his entire backside to and fro in an attempt to move the little nub of a tail. Evolution-- or is it breeding?-- hasn't favored Pancake's build; structurally unsound near the middle and too low to the ground to compensate for his length.
The knowledge that removing several vertebrae from the dog's back would only serve to worsen his condition (from risk to... well...) is becoming less and less relevant as the other thoughts creep in. Surely a working knowledge of vertebrate animals would be sufficient to perform minor surgery- besides, this is only a dream. Nothing truly bad can happen here, because none of it is real. Ultimately, he wouldn't be helping anyone but himself, feeding a curiosity that has never gripped him quite so fiercely. Yusuf has a surprisingly flexible conscience, and it rarely gets in the way of things he wants.
If he had thought he wanted to wake up before, Yusuf would very much like to wake up now. ]
Though we should probably have a conversation about those schematics at some point. [ You know what he's talking about, Arthur. ] Before this dream drives me completely mad.
Reply
He offers it over to Yusuf, pinched between index and center finger. ] Redrafted, slightly.
What kind of conversation though? [ Accuracy, application, other? ]
Reply
He takes the book and stares at the chicken scratch-- the penmanship is, if possible, worse than Eames' spelling. It's mostly equations and arrows drawn from one place to another, so Yusuf manages and pretends he can read read the parts that mostly look like a child's attempt at Urdu. The pages are thin and the paper is barely indented from Arthur's pen, not at all how Yusuf writes (quick, harsh strokes against the page, enough to make the ink bleed through) but somehow messier for it. ]
For now, the one that involves my expertise. [ Chemicals. Administration. Needles underneath the skin, connecting the body to a machine thats scattered about in so many parts right here at Yusuf's fingertips. And isn't that just funny because bodies are exactly that easy to take apart... ]
A lot of this is going to be trial and error, you understand?
Reply
Trial and error being what he thinks is a given, Arthur has considered the pros and cons of guinea pig status but the truth is it's still the most practical to have it done to himself, which he doesn't over-think. It's just how it most often tends to be, a stable dreamer (until now maybe) and not a hinging point as far as the things he does, whether for a job or in this case, just as part of a team trying to understand a dream from the inside out. ] It'll be fine.
[ He can't really imagine much worse than what's happened already so this will actually be more a return to what he's accustomed to as far as he's concerned. What Yusuf's worries might be specifically however, he would like to hear and he pauses, eying the chemist as he scans the schematics. ] Anything specific you think might be a problem?
[ Offhand. Beyond the device being, you know, questionably complete - once they even get it to that stage. ]
Reply
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