4th wall || morning of November 29th || not the limbo you are looking forfraudulentNovember 28 2010, 10:12:33 UTC
[He hears her voice. It's a bell's toll or a siren's call but a bell was never living and a siren is a myth, so maybe she is both of these things now. Dominic Cobb only ever waxed poetics about love and dreams, two creations that became mutual, or maybe always were.
Anyway, he hears her voice, which isn't quite right for all kinds of reasons.
You're waiting for a train.
Same line. Same thing. Same ghost.
"No, I'm not. I can't do this anymore." His mouth shapes the words but he doesn't know what kind of expression he's wearing. He owes a many-times dead woman more than this; it's his fault she is gone at all and it has been his punishment and his grace since she jumped to encounter her in the dreamscape. Dom doesn't necessarily believe he deserves better than to die by her spectral hand, but their children do deserve better and because they are not old enough to decide at guessing about their mother and their father and the in-between they still love him and there is still time
( ... )
[ Arthur's not sure what brought him to the beach at such an early hour. Maybe it was because he hadn't been able to properly sleep all night. Not that it was a problem he was unfamiliar with in the City. The nature of his work had thoroughly destroyed his sleeping patterns long ago
( ... )
[ Sand and saltwater are decidedly disgusting, but this isn't the first or the last time he will be spitting it out to one side, which he manages with some bizarre modicum of control, as if he's afraid he'll hack up his lungs along with it. Hard to tell, and with the echo of Mal's voice still thrumming through his skull like a well muscled secret it's hard really to tell anything else either. The sky and the sand and the water are unhelpfully generic and even the smell seems constructed to give the arrivals no particular indication of where this might be, or where it is supposed to be. Not a paradox, but certainly clever, though this isn't the time to be admiring anything
( ... )
[ Arthur's grip on his gun tightens as soon as the figure starts moving. He continues forward slowly for a few feet before he sees the figure shift again. It's not what Arthur expects, but the hands raised above the figure's head are unmistakable. He allows himself to relax a little as he lets some tension out of his shoulders. It's possible that the person could still be armed, sure, but this is at least a good sign
( ... )
[The change in expression happens when narrowed eyes loosen, quiet but bright with that odd kind of fever that some people say is close to madness; they wouldn't be incorrect, but some things require a bit of madness and that's true too. Not that he has a choice these days.
He swallows against a parched throat.]
Arthur. What... [He closes his eyes, brow drawing tight before he opens them again, as if testing for that same kind of illusion though where that falls between consciousness and projection is not exactly what one would call well researched.] This...isn't... [Again his voice sticks with dryness.] What the hell are you doing here?
Re: 4th wallwindsorknotNovember 29 2010, 02:59:21 UTC
It's a long story. [ Nothing about Cobb seems particularly off. But who knows if that really means anything at the moment. Arthur visibly relaxes, though his hand's still gripping the gun in his coat. ]
Tell me this first: where do you think we are right now?
[Again his eyes narrow but into a squint rather than a simple angle of blue. He then looks around, because he learned a long time ago trust has to give both ways and also because it's just instinct to want to get his bearings. If he can. Arthur won't shoot him, not yet, or he would have done it already -- or so the extractor believes.] It was supposed to be limbo.
[But that's not the same as saying he believes that's where he is. Arthur's presence veritably nullifies that likelihood.
But then...where?]
Is it just you? What about the others?
[His head hurts suddenly and maybe it's visible the way his face smooths into a seemingly permanent frown, worry edging it and the anxious, sinking feeling of a man who got 'this' close only to be the same distance far.]
[ It dawns on Arthur that this probably isn't the best place to be standing around having a conversation. Cobb looks like a mess, and Arthur's not exactly sure how long the man's been lying here on the beach. He closes the distance between them until he's standing by Cobb's side. ]
Let's get out of here. I'll explain everything on the way. [ The look he gives Cobb is one of unconcealed concern. ] Can you walk?
[ Whispering around the edges of his thoughts this beach briefly blends with another; there are sandcastles on the other one and a laugh born purely of memory. Then he blinks and he's back, meeting the first unveiled gaze Arthur has given him so far, which is a relief in its own way. Continued neutrality would have been enough reason for Dom to resist going with him, maybe, on paranoid uncertainty of what's going on if nothing else. ]
Think so.
[ He says, feeling solid enough on his feet where he has remained so far, but a step forward proves a little more problematic than he expects and though he stays on his feet, the reeling sensation he has suggests the walk back will be a slow one. Maybe it's just as well; there seems like there might be a lot to explain, all things considered. He rolls his shoulders back experimentally, rubbing the back of his neck as he takes another heavy but less hampered step. How long was he under anyway? Or how long did he lay there? No clue, his mind says unhelpfully, so he ignores it and focuses on the
( ... )
[ Despite Cobb's claim to be okay enough to walk, Arthur reaches an arm around his back to give him some support. ] We're outside of a city right now. It'll probably take about 20 minutes to walk back from here.
[ Arthur shifts so that he's taking some of Cobb's weight before stepping forward slowly. He shifts his attention from his destination to look down at Cobb before asking another question. ] What's the last thing that you remember?
[ This, Dom thinks a little nostalgically, will make things easier, or at least make the walk not turn into an hour. Regardless he maintains what seems like a reasonable majority of his own weight with Arthur as the volunteered crutch. They've certainly had worse than some shifting, weird version of land-sickness to deal with. In his pocket, arm bent over the point man's, Dom clasps at the silver top. ] Mal. [ Her name threads out of him like a visible strain. ] And Ariadne. I told her to go. I told her... [ He winces against all that memory so recent yet distant at the same time -- everything feels a little hazy the more he tries to focus -- and Arthur can surely feel the shrug he makes. ] ...I went to find Saito.
[ From what Cobb is saying, this all has to have happened after the rest of the team went to the third level. He remembers Ariadne telling him that she had gone down to limbo with Cobb. That would explains the context in which Cobb mentioned her. As for finding Saito, Arthur had known he was done for since he'd checked his health before setting up the kick on the second level. And Mal... well, she had a way of coming up anywhere Cobb was involved. ]
I don't think this is limbo. [ Arthur sets a steady pace towards the City while making sure to keep Cobb well supported. ] There's other people here, for one. Not Saito or Fischer or even Yusuf. Other people neither of us have ever met before. I'm not as familiar with limbo as you are, though.
[ That is all wrong...as far as Dom knows. When he and Mal were in limbo it was just them and a lifetime. Even this time around with Ariadne and Mal's ghost --projection won't do in her case-- there was only Fischer, hidden away -- all people already involved or who at least once were. Walking with Arthur is familiar enough, methodical; they don't trip over each other and with the point man's assistance Dom avoids what would be a truly fantastic (unfortunate) stumble face-first into the dirt or a tree, which is also good. What is not good, however, is pretty much everything else. Worst of all of it though? The extractor doesn't have an explanation. ]
You sound [ he pauses, that feeling of air going down the wrong pipe stopping him up for a second before he clears his throat to override it] like you've been here for a while.
[ Without specific intent, his voice has gone careful -- Dom when he is calm even though he doesn't feel very calm right now, but Arthur has been with him all of the way, somehow or the other. People end up
( ... )
[ He shrugs in response to Dom's question. ] 'A while' is one way to put it. By my count, it's been two months, one week, and one day by now.
[ Arthur's gaze shifts back to Dom as he waits for a reaction. There's nothing accusatory in his tone of voice. He's not entirely sure as to whether or not this is being caused by the sedative anymore, after all. In any case, now's not the time to be throwing blame around. The angry conversation they had in the warehouse seems like aeons ago, despite only having been a few hours ago in the dream itself. Arthur definitely hasn't forgotten it, but it's not like this is the time to be bring it up, either. ]
[ To say Dom hasn't forgotten his yelling spree at the point man is an understatement and to say it wasn't fair is redundant, but it's not something Dom is about to bring up right now either. He's got a mental score card for fuck-ups and it's enough that anyone of faith would as soon see him finding his way rather directly to some little known circle of Hell, but Dom is a selfish man. He wasn't always, though the selfishness was certainly there and that's where it grew from of course. It wasn't Arthur's fault that Fischer's militarization hadn't shown; that kind of information gets more than played close to the vest and the only way Arthur likely would have been able to figure it out would have been by being Fischer or the people who militarized him. What Dom told Eames was true; Arthur is good at what he does. It's what makes his own outburst at the younger man all the more ridiculous and worth that second apology Dom previously told Arthur he wasn't getting, but that was about something different anyway. Sort of
( ... )
[ This time Arthur nods in response to Cobb's question. ] Other people. A wide variety of them. Some of them claim to be from entirely different planes of existence. [ His gaze is still fixed on Cobb. Arthur's saying this all with a straight face despite how ridiculous it all sounds out loud. He wants Cobb to see that he isn't joking, but it's not like he's known to joke about this kind of thing to begin with. ]
They might be projections. [ He sounds tired as he says this. ] They might not be. [ Arthur keeps the unsaid I'm not entirely sure to himself. ]
Anyway, he hears her voice, which isn't quite right for all kinds of reasons.
You're waiting for a train.
Same line. Same thing. Same ghost.
"No, I'm not. I can't do this anymore." His mouth shapes the words but he doesn't know what kind of expression he's wearing. He owes a many-times dead woman more than this; it's his fault she is gone at all and it has been his punishment and his grace since she jumped to encounter her in the dreamscape. Dom doesn't necessarily believe he deserves better than to die by her spectral hand, but their children do deserve better and because they are not old enough to decide at guessing about their mother and their father and the in-between they still love him and there is still time ( ... )
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He swallows against a parched throat.]
Arthur. What... [He closes his eyes, brow drawing tight before he opens them again, as if testing for that same kind of illusion though where that falls between consciousness and projection is not exactly what one would call well researched.] This...isn't... [Again his voice sticks with dryness.] What the hell are you doing here?
[Or maybe he should be asking: where is here?]
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Tell me this first: where do you think we are right now?
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[But that's not the same as saying he believes that's where he is. Arthur's presence veritably nullifies that likelihood.
But then...where?]
Is it just you? What about the others?
[His head hurts suddenly and maybe it's visible the way his face smooths into a seemingly permanent frown, worry edging it and the anxious, sinking feeling of a man who got 'this' close only to be the same distance far.]
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Let's get out of here. I'll explain everything on the way. [ The look he gives Cobb is one of unconcealed concern. ] Can you walk?
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Think so.
[ He says, feeling solid enough on his feet where he has remained so far, but a step forward proves a little more problematic than he expects and though he stays on his feet, the reeling sensation he has suggests the walk back will be a slow one. Maybe it's just as well; there seems like there might be a lot to explain, all things considered. He rolls his shoulders back experimentally, rubbing the back of his neck as he takes another heavy but less hampered step. How long was he under anyway? Or how long did he lay there? No clue, his mind says unhelpfully, so he ignores it and focuses on the ( ... )
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[ Arthur shifts so that he's taking some of Cobb's weight before stepping forward slowly. He shifts his attention from his destination to look down at Cobb before asking another question. ] What's the last thing that you remember?
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Then I washed up here.
[ I think. I guess.
I'm not sure.
Fuck. ]
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I don't think this is limbo. [ Arthur sets a steady pace towards the City while making sure to keep Cobb well supported. ] There's other people here, for one. Not Saito or Fischer or even Yusuf. Other people neither of us have ever met before. I'm not as familiar with limbo as you are, though.
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You sound [ he pauses, that feeling of air going down the wrong pipe stopping him up for a second before he clears his throat to override it] like you've been here for a while.
[ Without specific intent, his voice has gone careful -- Dom when he is calm even though he doesn't feel very calm right now, but Arthur has been with him all of the way, somehow or the other. People end up ( ... )
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[ Arthur's gaze shifts back to Dom as he waits for a reaction. There's nothing accusatory in his tone of voice. He's not entirely sure as to whether or not this is being caused by the sedative anymore, after all. In any case, now's not the time to be throwing blame around. The angry conversation they had in the warehouse seems like aeons ago, despite only having been a few hours ago in the dream itself. Arthur definitely hasn't forgotten it, but it's not like this is the time to be bring it up, either. ]
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They might be projections. [ He sounds tired as he says this. ] They might not be. [ Arthur keeps the unsaid I'm not entirely sure to himself. ]
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