Log:Personal Things and Memories
Though she hadn't been awake for very long, it's possible the Hunter wasn't quite done sleeping yet. Or maybe she just didn't want to deal with things anymore. She had dozed off settled in against the Capitalist there on the sofa for a short time; lulled into it by the light touch against her shoulder and arm. When she stirred again, she made some comment about going through the things in her room and got some more coffee before spiriting away to the room in question. Her door was left just barely cracked open and she sits in there now in that large chair, sifting through a box (a small trunk, really) open in her lap. There's other cases open and spilled across floor and shelf. Mostly haphazardly.
More weapons, more survival tools. The former all just replicas or blunt-edged. The latter useful... in outdoor and in-climate weather, really.
The Capitalist was mostly awake thanks to the coffee, but he had a lot of things on his mind, if not on his plate anymore. Some, like Penitent, had taken this time to shed away all of their worries and fears from the Island and yet this is something that he, himself, cannot shake. Perhaps, even if it was for the briefest of moments, just maybe his time on the Island was really the best that he, no, Conrad, has ever had in his life. He's missing that power, that pride of having worked so hard to put something together and even though things were falling apart in the end, there was just something that made his time on the island that much more appealing.
Once the Hunter retreats to her room, it doesn't take too long for the Capitalist to follow. Of course, he, too, has gotten a fresh cup of coffee when he's lingering at Maata's doorway, though his eyes do look over the symbol once again, finding it fascinating -- Not just hers, but each of the symbols on every door, including his own. Pushing the door open just slightly, his tall frame standing in the doorway, his gaze now falls on the array of items strewn about on the floor. "So what's the plan?"
Looking up at the man in the doorway, the Hunter considers him. She reaches across the box in her lap, curling fingers over the metal lip. She lets out a long sigh, her shoulders sagging a measure. "I don't know." She leans to set the box aside, moving to her feet. Her own coffee is grabbed and she takes a drink of it, watching him over the edge of it. Lowering it after a moment, she stares into the mug. "You're not... upset, are you?"
The question lingers there as she sets the mug back down on the nearby work table. "About... what I said? How- how relationships feel here? I still feel a lot for you. Sometimes I still feel everything she- I did on the island. Sometimes it even feels stronger. But it feels different, too. I know we're different."
The Capitalist steps in once the question is asked of him and the Hunter explains her own mixed emotions. With his cup in hand, he circles around the content on the floor and takes a seat at the edge of the Hunter's bed. There's a moment when his eyes flicker in her direction, but for the most part, he mildly focuses on the various bits lying about as if idly trying to see if any of it will be useful. In fact, he does lean forward to pick up a wrench of sorts.
His eyes are trained on that one item in hand, even as he makes his response, "Upset? I was a little concerned when you first mentioned it, yes." His dark gaze then lifts to look beyond the tool to view Maata directly. "I know that there's some confusion and I still blame it on us being in this place. It's playing with our minds. It's difficult enough for me to try and have Madison pull herself together, that I'm hoping that I won't have the same is--" He stops, thinking of what he will say next and knowing that what he was planning on saying could ruin everything. Leaning forward once more to deposit the item back into the pile, he straightens again. "It's just been difficult for all of us and I have a feeling that it will prove to be even moreso the longer we're here."
Picking up a compass from a table, the Hunter turns it over in her hands. It's one of those ones in a small, compact case. She moves to the bed to sit next to the Capitalist. "Afraid we might forget who we are completely," she says quietly. She lets out a sigh. "When I woke up and you weren't here..." The words tumble out slowly as she looks down to the thing in her hands. She opens it and the needle just spins. No north to be found. "Then I saw you there, acting like everything was just fine, like it was any other morning. I was afraid that had happened to you. That you had forgotten some things." She looks over to him, searching his face. "I don't want to forget. I've already forgotten so much."
From out of the corner of his eyes the Capitalist watches when the Hunter comes to join him, feeling the bed shift when she sits. He takes this time to lift his cup to his lips and savoring that bold coffee flavor on his tongue. "I was just as confused as you were. I had no memory of waking up or even making the trek to my room. I don't even have any memory of falling asleep, but... that does tend to happen." And here he has to laugh, remembering their night activities fondly enough.
Letting out a heavy sigh, he says, "I was going to check up on you once I exited the room, but there was some commotion going on out in the parlor and I really needed a good cup of coffee to help piece things together."
"I don't remember falling asleep, either," the Hunter says quietly. She leans over, putting her head to his shoulder. There's a scrub of cheek, then forehead. She lets out a sigh. "I remember us," there's an emphasis on that word; implication of their time together. "I remember settling in, getting comfortable. I remember getting tired... then I woke up and you weren't there."
There's a sudden sort of laugh and she falls back, lying on the bed. "I don't remember much about my life before the island, but I don't remember ever having a lasting relationship and I can't find any evidence in my photo memories or whatever we wanna call them. And we knew each other for what, a couple weeks?" She tilts her head to look at him. "Here we are now, not even the same people, but I'm terrified of losing you."
"What is this place?" The Capitalist asks the question that's been on everyone's mind since they first woke up in the Facility. A wary looks makes a quick sweep of the Hunter's room, moving pass all of the trophies and weaponry found on her walls to view every corner, every nook that can be seen. "Maybe whoever has us trapped here is tampering with our oxygen, that's why we tend to pass out without remebering a thing. And the last time that I've ever teleported from anywhere to wake up in my bed?" He tries his damndest to remember Conrad's childhood memories, "I was around 9, I think." There's a shake of his head, "Can't be certain." Shifting to view the Hunter as she lays out upon her bed, what she now spouts disturbs him the way Madison's distancing herself from who she truly is disturbs him. This time, he does nothing to correct her, though that urge is there for him to say something contrary to her belief that they aren't the same people. Instead, he simply faces forward, gaze dropping to view his cup of coffee and then simply leans back for another drink. "I have no intentions of losing you as well." He says, eyes forward so that he stares at the now closed door. "If we can find a way out of here, maybe we'll be able to sort everything out. Being trapped here with no exits? That doesn't bode well for me."
"I'm beginning to think it's some form of afterlife. Maybe not heaven or hell, but..." the Hunter shifts, moving instead to rest her head in the Capitalist's lap. Mollified, to an extent, of his claim that he has no intention to lose her, either. "Perhaps we are being judged before we move on. Perhaps that's why others haven't ended up here." She settles one hand at his knee, smoothing at the fabric of his slacks. "It would explain why we cannot escape, cannot die, but... why remember just the island? Surely there are other things in our lives we must atone for. Not just those couple of weeks." She presses her cheek to his thigh, quieting for a time.
"Nor does it explain things like the professor. Or your sister's behavior." Or her own change in accent, behaviors... the Hunter closes her eyes. "I miss the sky. The ocean. I don't know how long I could do without them."
Once the Hunter rests her head within his lap, the Capitalist strokes at her cheek, then along the length of her hair in a comforting motion. "I was considering the same, but what Cross said does make me wonder. Bowel movements." It's not the prettiest of topics, but it does come to mind now, "Even in death, do our bodies function in the exact same way that they did in life? We eat, we take a piss and then some. I'd expect there'd be no need for any of that. Or does that change once we're judged?"
Thinking further on the topic, he adds in, "What if we really aren't dead? We remember the point before our deaths, but what if we were recovered somehow? Nursed back to healty and then dropped off here. It's far fetched, sure, but nothing makes sense." The stroking moves from from her dark locks to along a shoulder, before starting over to brush fingertips along the side of her face once more.
Same as before, the gentle ministrations of his stroking fingers are soothing. The Hunter relaxes against him and settles in closer. She breathes out in a slow sigh and falls quiet for a time. "We died," she says quietly. "Miss Morbid said she photographed Madison. And what remained of us. Do you think she would lie about that? And no one could nurse someone back to health so well they'd become twenty years younger."
After a few moments, she sits up enough to try to pry the coffee mug out of the Capitalist's hands to set it aside -- on the floor if necessary -- and the compass she was still holding, too. All to pull him down alongside her. "Theories of heaven and afterlives where you get to live out your life but without suffering abound. That girl said she killed herself, but she didn't say if she felt pain. She just... came back. Woke up this morning in bed."
"If we died when we remembered that we did," The Capitalist starts, his gaze lowering to look upon Maata, "Why the changes? Why did Professor Drake wake up younger than he's supposed to be?" He says nothing about the change of accent, however, as that hits too closely to what he has been trying to forget. Though when questioned about Esme, he practically scoffs, "Yes. From what I've seen of her, she is untrustworthy. A troublemaker. She's been trying to goad you ever since she got here. Madison too." All of this does not sit well with him.
When the Hunter is no longer in his lap, taking that nearly empty cup of joe from his hand, he falls in easily to rest beside her on the mattress. He finds himself staring at her, his gaze lingering on her face to take in her features. "Did she really not feel pain though?" There's a thoughtful look in his eyes, though he seems reluctant to even say what he does next, "Have you tried cutting yourself? Hurting yourself? Is there really no pain?"
Once he's settled next to her, the Hunter slides her arms around the Capitalist and pulls him in close to her. Or herself towards him. She inhales deeply of his scent once they're close before settling back enough to meet his eyes. "She never said anything of pain. Maybe she did. Cameron pinched himself and seemed to feel pain. But there's a difference between... a brief bit of pain and suffering, right? If I tripped and fell, it might... sting. But I'm wondering if I... I broke my arm, would I wake up with it still broken? Or would it be whole again?"
She licks her lips slowly. "I think we could ask her. But I think it must not have been... too great a suffering if she was able to take one of the knives from a meal and cut her own throat. The body's own reflexes. Pain. Want to survive. They would all prevent you from that. There's a reason most people aren't successful at suicide. That even those who cut their wrists have to use razorblades. It has to be extremely sharp. It has to be swift, fast. The want to survive is so strong."
Lazily, a hand extends to brush a lock of hair away from Maata's face, his own lips forming a quiet smile for her. The Capitalist's demeanor is serious, however, their conversation, despite the intimacy, has remained on everything that they know, still trying to figure out what's going on around them. "Would it be wrong of me to ask for a demonstration before our very eyes? Though she seemed willing to do so just earlier." There's a shrug of his shoulders at that.
Leaning forward, he begins to slowly nuzzle his face against the Hunter's... his eyes slowly closing, just as he hears voices, many of them, coming from the hallway. His eyes quickly open, propping himself up to stare out at the door once more. While it's hard to distinguish voices, especially those spoken by people who you barely know, what he does know is that there are far more voices out there than there should be. Swallowing deeply, all he can think of is: Did more people die?
"Maybe not in front of everyone," the Hunter answers, tilting her head into that touch. "but I admit a bit of morbid curiousity." Now that she's awake and had a chance to process the idea. "I think at a time when Madison isn't around. That woman needs to... pick her timing better. I think she offered merely to see how Madison would react. But in a clinical setting. To test." She seems happy to let it go for the moment, however, when he leans in. She tilts her head in return, about to draw him into a kiss. But then it's broken. An interruption. She has a flash back to the island, then. It's not the radio, but it's so reminiscent of all the times it'd go off just as they were about to lose themselves in one another.
There's a sigh as she draws her hand down his side. Pulling herself up against the Capitalist in something that is partially a hug and partially an attempt to listen better herself the Hunter takes a moment before asking: "Shall we go see?"
While his curiosity is completely piqued now, the Capitalist doesn't look to eager to leave the Hunter's bed. When they are both just staring at the door leading out into what sounds like a busy hallway, he responds with a nod. Well, a nod as he half turns to meet her lips with his just before preparing to stand. "You are right." He says as he crouches down to pick up what remains of his coffee. "It will have to be without Maddy's knowledge." He is still speaking of this potential suicide attempt.
Then almost sounding like an afterthought, when it's clearly something that's on his mind currently, he says with a shake of his head. "If there's that many people out there, then that can't be a good sign regarding what happened on the island."