Days dissolve into the ether, condense like clouds and come raining back down…
In the halls of the Kashtta Tower - one rather rusted-out and old-blood-stained hall, to be particular - something is happening.
That "something" happens to be a door splintering apart and a ranting pseudo-Angel of Knowledge stumbling through the broken bits.
Dmitri Lang is gripping a pickaxe which shines faintly with clean gold light, and thus ( Read more... )
That "something" happens to be a door splintering apart and a ranting pseudo-Angel of Knowledge stumbling through the broken bits.
Dmitri Lang is gripping a pickaxe which shines faintly with clean gold light, and thus ( Read more... )
But she's even less sure why she's invisible. She can be invisible if she pleases, more or less, but not literally.
"Owen?" she says after a moment. She kind of needs someone else to confirm her invisible state.
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She is making a very, very scared face. She does not like this. She does not like this one bit.
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This? This day is the new worst day. It's bringing worst days back. Those other fuckers don't know where it's at. But when Owen regains the capacity to make others' lives a living hell, or at least markedly more annoying, he's going to make sure they do.
For now, though, he's getting steadily more angry that Matoi doesn't seem to appreciate the emotional torment he's being put through, which makes him want to be a right bastard to her, which makes him feel horribly guilty, which makes him even more annoyed, so he hunches his shoulders, jams his hands into his pockets, and keeps heading for the infirmary.
"Anomalous effects, in your case apparently a new power, as there've been invisible wanderers before, with concurrent onset, sounds like Rift excitation to me. It's happened before. The last time, I got to launch myself along vectors. ...Tosh got a kitten."
...god. If his new Riftpower is empathy, he might just top himself and have ( ... )
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"The other one isn't gone," she says softly. She's not entirely sure she's told Owen about her riftpower, but that's neither here nor there. "I hope we can fix you."
She runs her fingers through his hair. "Worse comes to worse, we could just see if we could remove part of that portion of your brain. That might fix it."
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...she really did just suggest that.
This, combined with the empathy, combined with the fact that there's precious little empirical evidence to confirm that he hasn't been talking to thin air all this time, is beginning to make Owen question his sanity. And for someone who works with Torchwood, that's something of a feat.
"While normally I'm morally opposed to cosmetic brain surgery, I think in this case it might be warranted," he mutters, and look, they're at the infirmary. He pushes open the door and gestures inside. "Hop on a bed. I'll try to tell which one's paper crinkles."
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She often suggests ridiculous things; hyperbole is part of her character. However, it is also part of her canon to actually act on said ridiculous notions. This is the issue with actions not having any consequences.
Unfortunately for Matoi, that's not how the real world works.
"Will you still love me if I'm invisible?" Matoi wonders aloud, sounding rather pathetic.
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Now if only he could buck the feeling that someone was inscribing That was uncharitable, Owen. :( into his soul.
Owen washes his hands, finds gloves and equipment, and turns back to the crinkling bed.
"I'm going to take some blood. See if it's still invisible in the syringe," he says. "...you may want to help me find your arm."
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She's honestly much more worried about Owen's sudden empathy than being invisible. She can handle being invisible, hopefully. But Owen acting like a person? That's just unsettling. She's not sure she could get used to that.
"Oh, hold on. I think I need to roll up my sleeve. I'm pretty sure I'm wearing long sleeves."
Actually, she decides, it's easier to take the shirt off entirely. What she didn't expect was for the shirt to appear next to her as she put it on the bed. So not fair.
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Owen picks it up from the bed, examining it. Well, it seems like a perfectly normal girl's shirt, not that he's well-versed in girls' shirts.
"Huh," he allows.
He puts down the shirt and syringe, picking up an empty clipboard and holding it out to her.
"Take this for a moment."
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And then there is no more clipboard. She stares at the lack of a clipboard for a long moment before dropping it. And then there is a clipboard. On the floor.
"Well then," she mumbles, staring down at the floor. "I'm not sure if that's annoying or useful."
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This time, he's not letting go of his end.
Not that he knows exactly what that'll tell him, whether it does or doesn't disappear, but... data. Data is always useful. Somehow.
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She reaches out, taking the other end of the clipboard. There is definitely still a clipboard now.
"Huhn," Matoi says, letting go of the clipboard, dropping her hands in her lap. "At least I don't have the touch of Invisible Midas."
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