Rip Hunter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
directed) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2017-02-04 02:31 pm
directed) wrote in entrancelogs2017-02-04 02:31 pm
Always look on the bright side of life
Who: Rip Hunter and you?
Where: Second Floor, Kitchen, Elsewhere
When: During the event
Rating: PG-13 probably - talk of death, potential violence
Summary: Rip has recently regretted how little time he found for such things as swimming. Apparently Wonderland has decided to make up for that in spades.
The Story:
In the beginning -
Eight hours per a room. It's the one solid fact they seem to have to rely on, when so many others remain untested. With no way of knowing whether the oxygen levels would reset should a room be abandoned for long enough, Rip checks over the supplies he's saved up for those instances in which the closets fail to work. Unfortunately none of those oh-so-helpful voices suggested things like scuba gear or oxygen tanks, but Rip has food and clean water both.
He also has little doubt that other people might not have thought to create such caches for themselves. He winds up divvying up his own inventory in an attempt to buy time. He's a capable enough swimmer, and thankfully not so far from the kitchens just one floor bellow. There will come a point when he needs to rest, but until then Rip devotes what energy and effort he can to transporting supplies to the people he feels a level of responsibility for, to try and ensure this event doesn't claim any of them.
He can be found then making stops in the kitchen, or the tea rooms depending on how far he's pushed himself. He sticks largely to the lower floors for similar reasons, and won't be spotted above the fourth.
On the third day -
On the third day, there is nothing.
After the rapture -
Once the waters have receded, Rip throws himself into efforts with perhaps a greater ferocity than he had when the halls were flooded. His drive nearly manic, he has noticed something else about this event: the waters are not the only aspect of it. Though time moves forward it's also moved back, in a way Rip's been trained to recognize.
Time loops are a rare phenomenon indeed, but hardly unheard of.
The difficulty lies in any attempt he makes to express this to his comrades or the scientists he's met up with during his tenure in this world. His--accident has left him unable to form words from thought, to express what he sees and knows and deduces to those around him. Events are known to pass, but the very fact that they have been caught within repeating time since the start would seem to put that very notion into question. Who are they to assume things won't repeat, that time won't curve and wrap around, and drop them all back in the same flood that swallowed them up before?
That swallowed him up.
Who is he to think he can't die again?
He needs someone to know, to understand, to work with him to find a way to fix this. But in a land driven by magic rather than technology, that plays by its own chaotic rules instead of those based in reality? It's a much hard thing to accomplish than it should be.
Wild card! Let me know if you'd like something else
Where: Second Floor, Kitchen, Elsewhere
When: During the event
Rating: PG-13 probably - talk of death, potential violence
Summary: Rip has recently regretted how little time he found for such things as swimming. Apparently Wonderland has decided to make up for that in spades.
The Story:
In the beginning -
Eight hours per a room. It's the one solid fact they seem to have to rely on, when so many others remain untested. With no way of knowing whether the oxygen levels would reset should a room be abandoned for long enough, Rip checks over the supplies he's saved up for those instances in which the closets fail to work. Unfortunately none of those oh-so-helpful voices suggested things like scuba gear or oxygen tanks, but Rip has food and clean water both.
He also has little doubt that other people might not have thought to create such caches for themselves. He winds up divvying up his own inventory in an attempt to buy time. He's a capable enough swimmer, and thankfully not so far from the kitchens just one floor bellow. There will come a point when he needs to rest, but until then Rip devotes what energy and effort he can to transporting supplies to the people he feels a level of responsibility for, to try and ensure this event doesn't claim any of them.
He can be found then making stops in the kitchen, or the tea rooms depending on how far he's pushed himself. He sticks largely to the lower floors for similar reasons, and won't be spotted above the fourth.
On the third day -
On the third day, there is nothing.
After the rapture -
Once the waters have receded, Rip throws himself into efforts with perhaps a greater ferocity than he had when the halls were flooded. His drive nearly manic, he has noticed something else about this event: the waters are not the only aspect of it. Though time moves forward it's also moved back, in a way Rip's been trained to recognize.
Time loops are a rare phenomenon indeed, but hardly unheard of.
The difficulty lies in any attempt he makes to express this to his comrades or the scientists he's met up with during his tenure in this world. His--accident has left him unable to form words from thought, to express what he sees and knows and deduces to those around him. Events are known to pass, but the very fact that they have been caught within repeating time since the start would seem to put that very notion into question. Who are they to assume things won't repeat, that time won't curve and wrap around, and drop them all back in the same flood that swallowed them up before?
That swallowed him up.
Who is he to think he can't die again?
He needs someone to know, to understand, to work with him to find a way to fix this. But in a land driven by magic rather than technology, that plays by its own chaotic rules instead of those based in reality? It's a much hard thing to accomplish than it should be.
Wild card! Let me know if you'd like something else
no subject
He sees through it, however. Poor Eobard's feeling ignored.
Rip manages to temper a grin as he turns back towards the still-seated speedster. He motions around them, indicating the library in general--for that is where they are, and Eobard is starting to become disruptive to the poor patrons. No doubt they'll get the attention of the librarian soon, and she's rumored to be quite fearsome indeed.
But just in case his point hasn't been made? Rip silently brings one hand up, pressing his extended index finger against his lips to silently remind the other man that quiet is the rule of this particular room.]
no subject
If it is, then Rip is far more self-righteous than expected. Even so--]
Understood.
[And then, just as Rip might be thinking to getting back to his books, he will realize he is no longer in the library. Nor are they even in the hallways of the manor. In only two seconds, Eobard has whisked Rip away to the gardens with his speed. To a more secluded area, with little people around at that.]
It was getting a little stuffy in there. This is a much better place for us to talk, wouldn't you agree? [A beat.] And how about this time you use your words to respond.
no subject
How unpleasant.
He presses his lips together; so much for the minor enjoyment of convenient excuses. Really, it would be so much nicer to engage in another verbal sparring match, but it seems they are left with this. Rip has managed to at least figure out a few things about his particular injury; all he can express are simple concepts, more immediate observations than full thoughts or logic. Fortunately, the way Eobard phrases things? Allows Rip to give him a tidy little answer.]
Can't. [He's not mute; that is something, right?]
no subject
[Droll sarcasm is all Rip's response receives, at least initially. Eobard crosses his arms, at least satisfied that he could get Rip to say something to him, but it's still off. Last time they talked Rip couldn't shut the hell up about anything he said. When he was getting snubbed in the library, he could only conclude it was a cold shoulder act. Yet Rip's straight-forward "can't" feels like there's more.
Can't is, after all, the denotation that someone is incapable of doing an action. It isn't a matter of choice. And he thinks of Rip Hunter as a man who is careful with his words, just as Eobard is always careful with his own. What started off as wanting to bother Rip Hunter has now turned into wanting to figure out the mystery Eobard has created in his own head. The one all about why this man is being so silent.]
What precisely "can't" you do? It's been ten seconds, and you still haven't started a lengthy tirade about how I whisked you out of the library. Seems unlike you.
[Indeed, he can practically hear Rip's shouting in his mind now. The rudeness, violation of space, and all those things people complain about when they are taken from their environment against their will.]
You haven't lost the ability to speak. Is that you can't do so for long periods of time?
no subject
Apparently the key to throwing Eobard off guard is all the stubborn willfulness a young child is capable of mustering.
Although the man is right; Rip would have a fair bit to say about Eobard's blatant disregard for Rip's will and personal space could he string together the words. As it stands he merely shrugs at the observation. Let Eobard think he's turning over a new leaf or something equally ridiculous.
Not that it satisfies the other man. Eobard continues to press, and with a sigh Rip pulls out his phone. While it might be entertaining to a degree, Rip truly doesn't want to spend the entirety of his day being questioned by an overly curious (perhaps overly bored) Thawne.]
No. [He offers another single-word answer as he flips through some of the broadcasts. Nothing featuring himself, of course, but there have been a few people to publicly take to the network. While none feature the particular brand of disconnect Rip faces, he picks one of the ones that at least features actual words rather than a helpless conflagration of sound. No need for the video; Rip simply lets the audio play for Eobard to hear.
He's smart enough. No doubt the man would piece it together, get his laugh, and at last Rip could be on his way.]
no subject
Hm, I see. It has to do with the flood. [The audio Rip plays registers what the issue is for Eobard.] The left hemisphere of your brain has been damaged. An aphasia... expressive, I believe.
[If Rip is expecting a laugh out of bad nature, he will be surprised to not hear any such noise coming from Eobard. Only an explanation that Rip doesn't need, but is spoken for Eobard's only thought process.]
Ah, Rip. What have you done? [He chides the way a parent would to a meddlesome child; disappointed but not shocked.] No doubt something incredibly foolish. I hope it was worth it.
no subject
Not for the first time, he regrets the inability to properly tell someone to piss off in this state.
But as Rip has previously surmised, Eobard Thawne knows him, to an entirely unsettling degree. He's understanding enough of how Rip typically thinks, believes they are similar enough in that aspect to find--honestly, Rip isn't even sure. But aware of this, Rip can also say the reverse is true. And yes, no doubt Eobard would find the rescue of a child Rip doesn't even know as foolish.
But was it worth it?
That is a question Rip has asked himself more than once since his revival. Of course many would argue that helping those in need, whether successful or otherwise in the end, is always worth the effort. But Rip can't help but wonder: had he even managed to keep the child alive? He has no way of knowing; in the murky darkness of the water, he can't say he would recognize them, or that they might have seen his face clearly enough to do the same. There has been no broadcast that Rip might be able to find answers in, no questioning texts or anonymous postings.
Nothing but silence--a silence that makes his condition so much harder to bear.
Had it been worth it? For a moment, Rip cannot hide the uncertainty that cycles through his mind as surely as all the words he can no longer say. But he has not forgotten whom posses the question now, so Rip turns towards the speedster and merely shrugs.
Worth it or not, this is the situation as it currently stands.]
no subject
[No, that's not true. Eobard is sure Rip Hunter wouldn't cause himself brain damage unless it was important. The definition of "important" is simply different between himself and the Time Master. And he can't very well pry into Rip's thoughts and hear what the man is thinking in this moment.]
...Still, this is a rather miserable way to see you. We may not have any love between us, but you're still a worthy adversary. I don't think of you insignificantly that I can't lament your pitiful state.
[He grows quiet, trying to think of what he can do. Normally he wouldn't consider helping another person, much less an enemy, but this is a challenge in itself. It won't be very fun to keep pitting himself against Rip when the other man can barely verbalize a word. And really, the one thing he hates is boredom. Rip isn't boring, but the lack of communication will make things dull.
So what can he do? Aphasia affects the brain, so clearly any sort of solution would need to start there. He isn't a brain surgeon in any sense, and he thinks it would be too troublesome restraining Rip so he can crack his skull open. However...]
I think I know of a way to help you. It won't completely reverse the effects, but it could lessen the difficulty. I would ask "do you trust me" but I think we both know you don't, so I'll just come out and say what it is. [He raises his right hand and lightly vibrates it, demonstrating the small red sparks that come out as he does.] I can use the speed force to stimulate the left hemisphere of your brain with a light shock. It can't fully fix the damage, but you should be able to communicate with full sentences so long as you speak slowly.
no subject
Sincere. It's far from what Rip would expect of the man, even if he knows the true reasons must be far from altruistic. Still; whether rooted in disappointment or actual concern, what can Eobard or anyone do until this damnable event ends and Rip ideally regains the full capability of speech?
As it turns out, Eobard has an idea. (And for the record, yes. Any attempts to open up Rip's head would decidedly turn this conversation violent. He cannot talk, yet his mind, his reflexes, and his ability to pull a trigger all remain very in tact, thank you.)
He shouldn't be listening to this, much less entertaining the idea. Indeed, when Eobard confirms that Rip doesn't trust the man, he nods his head, turning his hands upward briefly as if to ask what else can he do, given who they are. The man demonstrates then what he intends, although he would hopefully forgive Rip for moving a hand to his holstered gun at the first sight of that upraised hand. Blame the instinct to survive, so very active now that he has come back from a time when he did not successfully do so.
He doesn't draw. Instead his eyes focus on the vibrating fingers, the red electricity that comes off of them. The theory is--sound, rooted perhaps in archaic practices but still rooted in solid foundation. He leans back, his mouth tight yet Rip has not immediately refused. He should, and at the same time, he cannot.
This is an opportunity. Not merely to try and reverse some of the damage, but to combat the ongoing event itself. Is Eobard even aware that it continues on, despite the fact that they can stand outside once more, that the mansion no longer is a watery death trap? Like Rip he is a time traveler; not trained, but still aware of how it feels to pass through the continuum, to defy what most would see as the logical flow of time. Rip remains certain that time is still looping, that people are caught in it, that this aphasia is rooted in the same memories that experienced that horrible flood and the inability to breathe.
The same man who has asked Rip what he would do if he's wrong; if he has truly locked his thoughts away within his own mind.
He meets Eobard's eyes with determination sparked in his own.]
The clock turns in circles. It was wet. The clock turns. [If they are to do this (and God forgive him, but Rip cannot bring himself to say no), then Eobard has to know the full extent of Rip's capabilities as they stand. It's why he drops the pretense of silence, offering the only words he's managed to try and express that the event isn't over before he once more look towards the man's hand. He doesn't trust Eobard Thawne, but Rip wouldn't risk anyone else to this endeavor either. He takes a breath, then nods a single time, his undeniable consent to what Eobard has offered.
Against what many would deem better judgement, he is willing to try.]
no subject
[Eobard chuckles only to himself, but it does seem he has Rip's agreement. Rip's caution is not unnoticed, the early move to the gun in the holster clear indication of the man's instinctive fear of him, but it is forgiven. Eobard knows who he is, knows Rip has good reason to question the sincerity of his offer, and understands. He isn't a good person. Never was, even before he became the villain. This isn't an act of altruism - it's an act of scientific curiosity.
Yet pride does shackle him into trying his best to get this right. He has no intention to kill Rip. If it happens then so be, but Eobard knows he will retain a sense of failure. It wouldn't be satisfying to kill Rip in the man's sad state.
Eobard reaches out and puts his left hand on Rip's shoulder, tightly clutching and digging his fingers into the joint. His right hand goes up to the left side of Rip's head, where he rests his index and middle finger just above the ear. The area where the broca should be located. He keeps his eyes on his fingers, ensuring they are properly positioned over the small area, before he looks to assess Rip's expression as he prepares.]
I know this isn't comfortable, but I need you to stay still. If you fidget I might accidentally hit an area I'm not supposed to.
[And yes, there is indeed a hanging implication in those words Rip should be able to catch onto. "If I hit the wrong area, you will die" is not a phrase uttered, but absolutely meant.]
3...2--
[He vibrates his index and middle finger, sending the electric shock into the broca region, and tightens his grip on Rip's shoulder even more as he does.]
no subject
Not that this is to be a simple process, or a painless one; the man's grip on his shoulder is ironclad, fingers digging into sensitive joints and drawing a hiss from Rip. He very deliberately keeps his hands away from his gun this time; the last thing either of them needs is his finger on the trigger when a bolt of electricity goes through his head.
Particularly if Eobard hits the wrong area, and yes, thank you, Rip doesn't miss that bit that goes unsaid. Very reassuring, Mr. Thawne.
But at the very least, when the man does look to see if Rip is ready? There's no fear. He's already proven that if he dies he will come back; though he's most certainly not eager to do so again in such short order, there's some reassurance in that.
Not so much that he doesn't hold quite still, of course.
3...2--
The spasm that follows can't be helped; the sparks make his muscles tense, Rip's eyes closing tight at the jolt. Eobard's hold would leave bruises, but it also keeps him in place, and by the time it's done Rip is notably still breathing.
It's at least one positive sign.]
no subject
He waits quietly for a few moments, until he is certain Rip won't tumble. Once confident, he releases Rip's shoulder.]
Okay. Try talking now.
[Let's see how it worked, if at all.]
no subject
Eobard seems aware enough of this; he's even what might be considered patient for a speedster before he prompts Rip to say something.
The event is still going on. That's all Rip wants to say, and he braces himself, thinking through the words, the effort it would take to say them.]
The--the-- [But it isn't easy. He takes a breath, then starts again.]
The clock...
[Damn it.]
Time. The time is--circles, it...
[It should be so simple. The words are right there, and yet as Rip continues to struggle he already knows the truth. It's too much effort for too little a result, and his left hand comes away from his head only to curl into a fist, jerked down in rage at the apparent failure.]
no subject
What a waste. [He's disappointed. Not in Rip's inability to speak properly, but his own failure to create that outcome. Still he's not quite as garbled as before, and maybe that can be its own small victory. And there is what Rip is currently saying.] "Time circles" hm?
[He closes his eyes and ponders. That phrase feels... well in a way, it feels accurate. Eobard has noticed something going on with the stream of time. He's had moments of deja vu, which have left him disoriented and confused. Is there something Rip knows that he doesn't?]
In the past couple days... I've felt the strangest sensation that I've been repeating myself. Going in circles. Are you trying to say we're in a time loop?
no subject
Yet out of the metaphorical ruins there does seem to be some spark of life. As Rip mentally laments his continued inability, Eobard in fact picks up on just enough to piece it together. Rip almost doesn't hear it; he's rather busy fighting off the urge to find a shrub to punch, not to mention the pain in his head is getting worse. Yet as Thawne continues, he draws Rip's attention, the man accurately describing just what Rip had meant to imply.
He can't help it. There's a hint of a grin on his face as Rip snaps his fingers and points at Eobard. Yes, yes, that is it exactly.
And perhaps also worth the effort of trying once more.]
Two. Two--two parts. [God, this is painful.] Water. Time.
no subject
[Which means whatever he has done to Rip, beneficial or not, could be undone at any moment. That just further irritates him - he doesn't like his efforts being for naught.]
Well Rip, I'm sorry my little experiment didn't regain your ability to properly communicate. Yet it does seem to have had some benefit. Unfortunately, I doubt there is much I can do about it with even my powers.
[Mainly because ever since he has come here, his ability to run backwards or forwards in time has been locked away. Not that it would do much good - this is a world that he has to escape, and speedsters cannot create breaches in-between dimensions.]
no subject
Eobard is sorry that his efforts hadn't worked.
What more is there to do besides move on? Rip still would attempt to seek out solutions to the matter on his own, just as he had intended before running into Eobard. Yet the matter doesn't feel quite finished; even knowing that the man had sought to benefit himself rather than Rip, Eobard had tried to help.
In a fashion.
He holds up a finger, asking for the man to wait. This would take effort, as all his speech has. But he is able to at least choose his words with a bit more success. Moreover, Eobard hadn't taken this opportunity to kill him, despite phasing his fingers into Rip's skull.
It seems only fitting to show some gratitude for that.]
Th-- Thah-- [He casts a frustrated look towards the sky. Once more, and for all his strain, there is an audible sincerity to the words when he manages to at last force them out.] Thah-ank you.
no subject
I don't understand. [His face turns confused. Of course he heard what Rip said, but he doesn't understand why.] I didn't fix you. Why thank me?
[The question doesn't sound scornful, or self-pitying. Just... childishly confused in Rip's gratitude. He doesn't see the point. Eobard has received praise for his work in the past, but only when it actually contributed. Yet he can't recall a time someone thanked him in failure. Why is he being thanked when he didn't do as he set out to? Rip's sincerity makes absolutely no sense to Eobard.
And perhaps in that act, Rip exposed a weakness in Eobard. One covered by an unflinching and cold persona.
He sighs, trying to regain his bearings after... whatever that was, and raises his hand up before Rip tries to speak.]
Don't bother answering. You probably can't answer me coherently anyway.
no subject
The hesitation last but a moment. There and gone, and Eobard is likely entirely right in his estimation of Rip's abilities to explain those simple words. He tilts his head to the side for a moment to say as much, but oddly there is something--almost good to be found in seeing that confusion.
Perhaps it is the most human he has known Eobard to be in their encounters.
But since it seems like they are finished here, Rip motions towards the mansion. He is capable of going back on his own, more than and in fact he would prefer it--but they should go separately.]
no subject
I think I rather spend time out here. Go ahead - with any hope your aphasia may be temporary.
[And Eobard turns around and goes the other way.]
boy can't talk but he's still trying to get the last word