Ephraim had been under for years and those years, in the dream world, have spread into decades. Maybe even centuries. In the beginning, when he first realized something was wrong, he still tried to keep count, tried to translate the hours that passed by into real time, but it got to be useless after awhile
( ... )
The smile fell from Ephraim's face. "That one wasn't successful." After all, he had never gotten the money. Not directly anyway, although he trusted that Einar had put his share into his current lodgings.
Crossing his arms across his chest, he sighed. “What a way to go out. Stuck in a dream trying to get money out of people who made toys. I’m sure everyone had a good laugh about it.”
*bows* I do tryuncleeinarAugust 12 2010, 02:25:46 UTC
He shook his head, "Not as such, no." But that was because no one had known until afterwards just how bad things were. He sat back again, head tilting, "Before that..." He shook his head then, "That attorney's wife, wasn't it? Or was that even earlier?" To be honest, most of their earlier jobs, as well as most of his later ones, did tend to blend together from time to time. But he'd been in the business longer than most, and really, the new business was much more lucrative than the almost-legitimate business was.
"I don't remember either. I just remember how happy I felt afterwards. How happy you seemed..."
Now he was stuck on thinking about the very last job. He’d had plenty of time to think about what went wrong but never got any closer to an answer. He tried to reconstruct it, from memory, as well as create false memories, views of what he couldn’t see, of what happened after. He flattered himself, thinking people he knew were devastated. But given the life he had been living up until then, who really knew him? Who really cared?
He decided to flatter himself a bit more, to indulge. “When you realized it had gone wrong…how did you feel?”
He sighed at that, shaking his head, "Disbelief, followed by a moment of despair, followed quite quickly by anger." At anyone and everyone, including the pair of them, "The despair didn't return for ... some time. But it stuck." It still caught him off guard from time to time, something would jostle a memory loose and it would be just as fresh as if it had happened the day before.
He studied Ephraim for a long moment, brow creasing slightly, "Do you remember when I first came to see you?" He didn't suspect that he did, but that didn't mean he didn't. Neither of them had been quite themselves at the time, even Einar's usually pristine mental image of himself had been flecked with blood, only a small portion of it his own.
Ephraim certainly understood the anger, made all the worse by a lack of something to direct it towards with any certainty. He still couldn’t decide…was it Einar’s fault, for pushing it too far and being to reckless to bring him back out? No, as much as he would sometimes like to put the blame on his partner, he knew it wasn’t the case. It was probably the sedative, an adverse reaction. And the fact that he was the only one who fell victim to it points to something within him, either some accident of biology or…well, he had been drinking. Not to excess, not that particular day anyway. It was hardly even enough to really make a difference but in all the time he’d had to think about it, anything at all that he could remember that could be the cause stood out. The problem was none seemed any more likely than another.
He held the other man's gaze as Einar looked at him, watching that familiar look of concentration come onto his face. "I'd rather hoped you didn't remember it," he said softly. "And I don't like remembering a person I loved
( ... )
Loved. Past tense. Some days were better than others, Einar just had to remember that. He nodded all the same, finding Ephraim's hand again, though he didn't take the initiative to twine their fingers himself, "Of course I remember. And every morning, when I wake up, I have to decide first, if i'm going to go through the day, or if I'm going to come in here with you to stay." Which was always the hard decision, sometimes it took him upwards of an hour to actually come to a decision and get dressed, "And after that I have to decide how I'm going to go through the day, whether I am going to do it on thought, or on action."
Which was to say, if he was going to tear through anyone and anything, leaving a trail of carnage like he had before that first visit, or if he was going to go through things the way he usually did, some vague two or three steps ahead of everyone else.
"God, don’t fucking say that." The wavering tone of his voice belied his words though. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t ever wished… "No, don’t say that unless you actually mean it. Which you can’t. You shouldn’t want to stay here."
Ephraim took his hand away and hopped up off the chair. He thought the next dramatic speech he was set to deliver would go best with pacing. "I have my own little discussions with myself, you know. Can I be noble and completely the good person I used to be - or thought I was -and let you be? Just let you mourn me like any normal person does and move on. Or do I give into jealousy and bitterness and hate everything good thing that might be happening to you without me?" He scoffed. "I never make a decision, by the way. But you know me, I never could."
"And that is what you have me for." He said, leaning forward in his seat then, elbows resting on his knees, "I have mourned, and I'm done with that, but even if you were to finally shuffle off the mortal coil, there would be no 'moving on', not for me." It was a conversation they'd had variations on from time to time, "And I would still come to visit, even if it were a source of ire."
He shook his head then, "But that's not like you, being angry, not for very long."
"Why?" Yes, Ephraim liked having the same conversations over and over again, even before the coma. He could be obstinately childish in some ways, as if to make up for the ways in which he was wise beyond his years. "Are you happy? I want you to be happy." The way he said it, it sounded almost like an accusation.
At Einar’s last statement, he stopped his restless walking about. "I’ve had time to learn how. I know how to hold a grudge now."
[ooc: I’m signing off now, but I can’t wait to continue the OMGMELODRAMA tomorrow! Night!]
"Which part are you questioning? Why wouldn't I move on? Why would I still visit even if you hated me?" He replied, just as level as ever, deciding to let the final statement go by the wayside for the time being, "And I am happy." A slight headtilt, almost a shrug, "At least as happy as I can be, for a man who has lost his anchor."
(yay melodramas! *victory arms!* And obviously I totally conked out before I could reply last night.)
This was shameful; Ephraim knew he was acting like a spoiled child and that no one else but Einar could make him act this way. He had often found himself throwing fits and being generally ridiculous just to see if he could get a reaction out of Einar. Which, of course, he couldn’t.
“Both. Maybe. But mainly why you would still come around if you thought I hated you.” He felt the need to begin pacing restlessly again and to cough, pressing his hands against his ribs like a freezing man trying to get warm. He had never been so fidgety in his normal life; he figured it was a reflection of the discomfort of his worldly body, up above in the reality, unable to move or feel, growing weaker and more sluggish as the years passed. “I’m sorry you lost your anchor. I really am. But don’t you think there might be others in the world? Ones who are still able to pull you back.”
He studied the other man intently once more, that same piercing gaze that had always worked to still marks and projections alike, well, the one that had been enough to make projections at least hesitate for a moment or two before going back to what they did best, "I would visit even if you hated me because sometimes on the bad days you do."
He shrugged, settling back in the chair once more, "And I have had assistants, from time to time, but it's hardly the same thing as someone who sometimes knows me better than I know myself."
Ephraim paused, but it was on account of Einar’s words more than it was his gaze. Keeping his arms crossed, he studied the parquet floor, as if the right way to word what he was thinking might be written there. "Don’t take it personally," he finally said, softly. "I’ve forgotten how to act around people."
He walked back to Einar’s side, but didn’t take a seat. "And this is why I still worry about you. Even more now, because I can't do anything to help you."
"As if either of us ever knew how to act around people." He replied, just as softly, almost amused. He shook his head, finding Ephraim's hand again, lacing their fingers this time and tugging the other man closer, the chair was big enough for both of them after all, if barely, "You do help, even if you don't know it. You're something of my own Jiminy Cricket, sometimes when I'm about to do something relatively mundane, and sometimes when I'm about to do something extremely risky, and anything in between."
He shook his head, "I know exactly what you'd say about either situation, usually. Or I like to think I do."
Ephraim wedged his skinny little self next to Einar in the chair. It was hard to continue trying to act cross with him when they were sitting so close, so Ephraim allowed himself to relax a bit. He could try to control his emotions, couldn't he? Try to make this a good day.
In a show of quiet playfulness, he rested his chin on the other man's shoulder lightly. "Am I really so predictable?"
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Crossing his arms across his chest, he sighed. “What a way to go out. Stuck in a dream trying to get money out of people who made toys. I’m sure everyone had a good laugh about it.”
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Now he was stuck on thinking about the very last job. He’d had plenty of time to think about what went wrong but never got any closer to an answer. He tried to reconstruct it, from memory, as well as create false memories, views of what he couldn’t see, of what happened after. He flattered himself, thinking people he knew were devastated. But given the life he had been living up until then, who really knew him? Who really cared?
He decided to flatter himself a bit more, to indulge. “When you realized it had gone wrong…how did you feel?”
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He studied Ephraim for a long moment, brow creasing slightly, "Do you remember when I first came to see you?" He didn't suspect that he did, but that didn't mean he didn't. Neither of them had been quite themselves at the time, even Einar's usually pristine mental image of himself had been flecked with blood, only a small portion of it his own.
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He held the other man's gaze as Einar looked at him, watching that familiar look of concentration come onto his face. "I'd rather hoped you didn't remember it," he said softly. "And I don't like remembering a person I loved ( ... )
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Which was to say, if he was going to tear through anyone and anything, leaving a trail of carnage like he had before that first visit, or if he was going to go through things the way he usually did, some vague two or three steps ahead of everyone else.
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Ephraim took his hand away and hopped up off the chair. He thought the next dramatic speech he was set to deliver would go best with pacing. "I have my own little discussions with myself, you know. Can I be noble and completely the good person I used to be - or thought I was -and let you be? Just let you mourn me like any normal person does and move on. Or do I give into jealousy and bitterness and hate everything good thing that might be happening to you without me?" He scoffed. "I never make a decision, by the way. But you know me, I never could."
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He shook his head then, "But that's not like you, being angry, not for very long."
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At Einar’s last statement, he stopped his restless walking about. "I’ve had time to learn how. I know how to hold a grudge now."
[ooc: I’m signing off now, but I can’t wait to continue the OMGMELODRAMA tomorrow! Night!]
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(yay melodramas! *victory arms!* And obviously I totally conked out before I could reply last night.)
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“Both. Maybe. But mainly why you would still come around if you thought I hated you.” He felt the need to begin pacing restlessly again and to cough, pressing his hands against his ribs like a freezing man trying to get warm. He had never been so fidgety in his normal life; he figured it was a reflection of the discomfort of his worldly body, up above in the reality, unable to move or feel, growing weaker and more sluggish as the years passed. “I’m sorry you lost your anchor. I really am. But don’t you think there might be others in the world? Ones who are still able to pull you back.”
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He shrugged, settling back in the chair once more, "And I have had assistants, from time to time, but it's hardly the same thing as someone who sometimes knows me better than I know myself."
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He walked back to Einar’s side, but didn’t take a seat. "And this is why I still worry about you. Even more now, because I can't do anything to help you."
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He shook his head, "I know exactly what you'd say about either situation, usually. Or I like to think I do."
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In a show of quiet playfulness, he rested his chin on the other man's shoulder lightly. "Am I really so predictable?"
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