ataraxionlogs | letting the days go by, into silent water [open]

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letting the days go by, into silent water [open]

CHARACTERS: Murphy Pendleton and you.
LOCATION: Anywhere. This is pretty much a free-for-all of CR.
WARNINGS: Insert the usual Silent Hill disclaimer here.
SUMMARY: Insomnia hits. Friendly neighborhood convict takes a little stroll.

He couldn't sleep.

Granted, this was nothing new and exciting. If nothing else, it was fucking tedious. His brief spell of excessive sleeping habits died real fast after the jump wired Murphy up all over again.

It wasn't always this bad. In fact, he used to sleep a fair bit. There wasn't much else to do during his alone time in prison, so it had been the only resort next to going stir-crazy with boredom.

Even with Anne in the same room these days, Murphy still felt the nagging urge to escape the closing walls of his ~~cell~~ bedroom. Unlike Ryall, he could at least work off his restlessness by stretching his legs. There were still places that he hadn't yet seen, grounds that he hadn't yet covered. He could scratch this itch. He could.

So he just wandered for awhile. Aimlessly, as usual. He almost felt dazed. But it was good to be out. Not free, not safe, though close enough to settle on the fact that his present situation proved to be more favorable than where he had been coming from, in ways.

That was just sad.

Murphy, this is your life right now. Take a good long look at it.

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"You don't sleep either?"

This was a small surprise to her; she hadn't met anyone in her late hours before. Cibo's body was trained and pumped with enough adrenaline to keep her awake for a week or more - depending on the situation. It would be nice knowing that someone would be awake for her to converse with in the future nights.

"No, I do." He shook his head, figuring that that might not be entirely what Cibo was asking. "I mean, it's more like insomnia, I guess. I used to sleep a lot. These days... not so much."

Even before his hellish jaunt through Silent Hill, Murphy's head was plagued by night terrors. It was hardly unusual to find himself ripped out of them with a start in the middle of the night, struggling for air and a sense of reality. But the screams of a man begging for his life and the dead faces still lingered on the back of his lids.

Murphy wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He was finally starting to get a sense of that reality, slowly coming back while he walked these halls at odd hours.

Whatever insomnia was, she could see that it troubled him and that his body may have been suffered from it. It seemed common that most humans aboard the ship would need to sleep so many hours a night or else the wear on their bodies would begin to wear on their minds.

"Is there anything that I can do to help you with that?" Whether her skills in the sciences would be of any help to him, Cibo wasn't sure. It was worth a try, if he approved of it. She did once know how to form powerful sedatives for the monstrous creatures of her world.

Restlessness and neurosis had worn on Murphy before, if the occasional scrawls on the walls were any indicator. But given the size of the ship and the people aboard, the chances of anyone finding Murphy's graffiti was rather slim.

The silence carried after Cibo's offer. Couldn't say that he was really expecting anyone to extend help to him for something as trivial as this. Didn't think it was even that big of a deal.

"Thanks, I..." He meant it. Really. "I appreciate it, but I think it's better like this."

If this lack of sleep thing ever really got too bothersome, he was sure there would be something in the medbay to help remedy his problems. At least it hadn't gotten so bad that he was staying awake for days on end.

"Better how? Before long your body will begin to run on its reserves. Which will weaken you and leave you vulnerable to sicknesses, right?" Cibo really wasn't sure of the original functions of the human body but she knew too long without proper care of any form could only end poorly. This came from Miss Day-Five-And-Still-Going, but even she could feel her body beginning to tire as she neared her limit.

"Do you rest better with company?"

Murphy really hadn't considered it to that extent. But then, what were consequences? He just shrugged them off.

He sighed and shook his head, ignoring the implications of Cibo's inquiry that would be obvious to some, but left Murphy unawares.

It might not actually be until much later that it would actually hit him.

"Erm, I guess it helps. I mean, I... have a roommate?"

"Strange. I would think that having someone there would ease the mind."

She thought on this while they walked together. It seemed to her that they'd been walking for quite some time now. Where had they ended up? She couldn't recognize. Cibo began a route back toward her room, under the assumption that Murphy would continue to follow.

"Environment sometimes has something to do with it. Maybe you should stay in another room for a night to see if it helps you?"

"It... It does. I just... Shit, I dunno." It'd been a long time since he ever shared a room with anybody, and even at Ryall, he was used to not even having a cellmate. His need for company outweighed what he was more accustomed to.

Again, Cibo. Once again, with the odd questions. And even if there was any kind of hidden suggestion behind it (which there wasn't, of course), Murphy overlooked all of it for now. This woman didn't seem the type, anyway.

Not that Murphy was a decent judge of character...

"Hadn't really thought about that. Most of the rooms here look the same." He did keep walking, idly following her without having any real direction in mind as it were.

Sure, the rooms looked similar, but it would still a different room. Mind over matter, right?

"Maybe it's worth a try. Different company, different space. Might be more relaxing than you think." Cibo only threw ideas out at this point in attempt to casually probe Murphy's problem. It was possible that finding the solution to the 'insomnia' thing would prove useful in the future.

Before too long of a silence, Cibo stopped in front of a room - her room - and waited for Murphy's response with a sort of eagerness that gave her a smile.

Mind over matter. Right. That was a thing he had to practically master into an art form to keep himself from going insane sometimes.

It wasn't until they stopped and Cibo had turned to him with that look that Murphy stopped abruptly as well. Given a combination of implications that had been dropped throughout the conversation, even Murphy was starting to paint a pretty clear picture in his head that was--

Wait.

Wait a goddamn second.

"Erm..." I should go. "S-so..." Exit stage left. "You, uh..." Would now be a terrible time to jump to hideous conclusions? "Is this... yours?"

He just nodded to the room, and immediately felt like smacking himself in the fucking face.

"That's correct."

Cibo couldn't understand why his nervousness returned. She was fully clothed and they had just had a fairly normal conversation up until that point. What could have possibly caused it?

The room was dark when she opened the door, but only for the few seconds it took her to reach for the light. Right off the bat, her bed looked lonely - it hadn't really been used since her arrival other than a place to sit. The electrical prod and cables of her inventory are set on the blankets near the foot of it, her regular clothes sprawled out just beside them.

She hadn't move too far in; waiting for Murphy to follow before she went any further.

"Coming?"

It was all fight or flight instincts at this point, waging each other in a cacophony of run run run versus man the fuck up. She wasn't hanging all over him, and her tones were more casual than seductive.

But then, what did Murphy really know about women, really? Six years of a marriage after a long-lasting relationship, in which he never did quite understand what Carol ever saw in him, and--

Murphy, no. This is really not a good time to be thinking about your failed marriage.

He lost track for how long he stood there; maybe several seconds after the invitation. It occurred to him that, since his arrival, he'd never actually been invited into a woman's room before, and just. Shit.

"Sure. Ah. But, erm... Just to make sure I'm understandin' this right, this is... this is to rest... right? Just that?"

--shut up and abort get out GO--

The smile disappeared as curiosity struck her. Murphy had been acting strangely since they arrived at the room and, for some reason, he thought that something else was going to happen. The whole situation seemed familiar all of sudden...

Even after the ordeal with Scout, she realized that she still couldn't catch what double-meanings spewed from her mouth. Everything she said had been for scientific observation, so the meanings Murphy would have interpreted were unknown to her.

"Have you been misunderstanding me? I only meant to help you with your sleep problem. I can't allow anything more than that..."

All of a sudden, Murphy felt like a complete idiot -- and for the very opposite reason than Scout did, of course.

"Shit... I mean. No, that's... good. I was..." Worried? This time, he really did smack a hand over his forehead, if only to hide his face from the sheer amount of awkward that was going on. "Ugh... Sorry 'bout that."

Now he didn't want to make it seem like he was expecting anything else from her, though. Christ, he used to be so bad at this kind of thing before; his total social ineptitude sometimes baffled him even now.

Women.

There was a brief moment where Cibo thought that Murphy had been in some sort of pain - holding his head and fumbling his words. In whatever attempt to comfort him she could think of, she moved her hand to take his from his face.

"You shouldn't be sorry. It was a misunderstanding. It seems to happen often."

Cibo had also felt a little embarrassed, letting a conversation go on like that without realizing for a second time. An embarrassment that she tried to hide with another small smile, "Should we talk about it? Perhaps I could explain."

If nothing else, his head was sure in a lot of pain, but not exactly in the way that Cibo probably had in mind.

Murphy couldn't help but apologize, and felt like apologizing again, and once over after that. Regret was practically programmed into him. She took his hand, which was undoubtedly meant to help calm him, but had a tendency to have an opposite effect at times. This being one of them. It was bad enough that he was more tense than he had been before.

"Maybe, I... uh, sure. Talking is... good. Fine." He liked talking. Who didn't? "Er, sorr--"

He stopped himself before he apologized again and sounded like a broken record. His eyes fixed on his hand that had been pulled away rather than facing Cibo herself.

"I really am sorry if I made you uncomfortable. You should sit down." And there she was now gently guiding him into the room and to the bed for him to sit. There was an obvious lack of spare furniture in the room, but she found that standing a few feet from Murphy suited her well enough.

This gave her some time to watch him as he adjusted. She had always been pretty bad at reading deeply into emotions like this; usually coming to her own assumptions in which her misunderstood words were to blame.

Had she upset him that badly?

"What you thought I was implying... That doesn't happen where I'm from. That's why it must have been strange for you and so normal for me. I just don't think about anything like that. At all."

He wasn't about to argue. Actually, he found himself too tired to even make the effort. She wasn't being cruel or teasing as most might be and, as Cibo then clarified after Murphy had taken a seat, that hadn't been the case in the first place.

At all.

And sorry, he started to say again, at the risk of making a whole cycle that wasn't going to help the situation in any way. He snapped his mouth shut, and just let the moment register rather than making things any worse than they already were.

The worst part about it was, he was frustrated. In many ways. It wasn't as if Murphy was any good at reading people before, he felt like an alien when trying to make conversation with them half of the time. Which, considering where they were, was actually kind of the case.

He sat there without saying anything that might result putting a foot in his mouth, slouched over the bed in what looked like an uncomfortable posture.

"...I get it. It's fine, don't... don't worry about it. I have a problem -- figurin' out what's strange and what's normal sometimes, too."

"It's possible that's because of your sleeping habit."

Scientifically speaking, which she had been trying to do the entire time, this would be correct. The weakness of the body would begin to confuse the mind as it struggled for control of consciousness. If she were correct at all, his body was ready to shut down at any time.

Even then, Cibo could feel her own legs tire as she stood there speaking to Murphy. A certain desire in the back of her mind tried to draw her near the bed. Instead, she stepped back against the wall and moved slowly to sit, her legs outstretched across the floor in front of her.

"I feel so weird being in this place. Everything is so different than The City. Especially the people and the way you all speak."

"Not really. It's... been an ongoing thing." Murphy was loathe to bring up the fact that being incarcerated from the general population undoubtedly had a lot to do with it. But that was the truth, and not something that he felt comfortable bringing up in casual conversation.

That was, if you could call this conversation in any way casual.

Shit.

He leaned forward, still slouching, elbows now resting over his knees now as he just sat on the edge of the bed. He appreciated Cibo giving him a little bit of distance while he attempted to straighten his head out on his own.

"Trust me, you're not the only one who feels that way." Hell, Murphy had talked to old timey people who used archaic phrases that made Murphy feel like a bumbling, illiterate idiot at times.

"At least we're in similar situations then."

Cibo fell quiet. She had been watching Murphy to observe him, but she found her glance falling to the space in front of her. The way her legs stretched across the floor of this foreign place. The same bothersome memory that this place wasn't The City was hitting her again. Her mind wandered into a horrid memory or two for the few moments she was silent.

Perhaps her eyes gave it away or a small twitch in her fingers, but she was in a painful memory. She came from it slowly and her gaze wandered up to Murphy.

"Heh. You'd be surprised with how many people share that sentiment." In that regard, Murphy didn't feel completely alienated from all of them.

Asides from glancing occasionally at her, Murphy just felt Cibo's eyes on him. Another feeling that he was too familiar with -- being watched. It was a disgusting familiarity that, just because he was used to it, didn't mean he liked it very much. He nervously itched the back of his neck before dropping his arm down to his knee again.

Too quiet, man. Say something.

"...So, uh, when you say it's different here, is it a... good, or bad -- different?" Because judging on personal opinion and some of the people he'd talked to thus far, this whole situation was a mixed blessing.

The Tranquility was sure to have its own dangers at some point, but compared to The City...

"Good, but..." The words left her mouth almost faster than she could think of them. Eyes left him again and faced downward to her hands which were resting in her lap.

At times, Cibo could still taste the stench of blood and rust in her mouth. Some of the eerie echos of the ship would bring back a certain familiarity, forcing her adrenaline to run out of survival instinct. The only thing she truly missed about being trapped within the layers and layers of metal structures was Killy. No doubt that he was alive, but was he looking for her at this very moment? How many long years would Killy search before he realized that Cibo wasn't there anymore?

For the first time of their meeting, Cibo was the one who seemed truly uncomfortable. The cleanness of her skin and hair, the silence aboard the ship, clothing that wasn't her own - all of it made her itch. It was luxurious in a way she never knew and when she thought of it, the more impossible it seemed that she was even sitting there; Existing in that space in front of Murphy. She felt detached from herself.

"There was someone..."

It was quite a gamble to figure out which people were better off where they were, and which ones actually wanted to return home. Murphy wasn't that good at reading people; he never was.

With Cibo, it was a little different. Someone like her, it was hard to imagine the woman coming from a place made of sunshine and rainbows. Her answer confirmed any doubts and reservations that he might have had, though.

"Oh." He paused, his eyes shifting. "Sorry to hear... I mean, I'd say they might show up, but that's... not always a good thing."

Moments like these, Murphy felt so selfishly fortunate. He also forgot sometimes that, just because he didn't leave anyone behind at home, it wasn't always the same for others.

No, all he could ever ask for, he had here. Even though he sort of felt mixed with Anne being here, only because he felt that she didn't deserve it. But then, who did? Who was the judge of the deserving ones when the good people suffered, anyway?

Killy probably wouldn't know what to do with himself. No where to go and nothing to do? Being trapped on the Tranquility would drive him absolutely mad. Killy needed The City. He was made for that horrible place.

"He'll be fine there. It's just an odd sensation being away from him. I can't really describe it." Maybe in a different time and place — a whole other reality — she would've understood some of the deeper emotions of her situation.

It felt like a long minute later that she had still been searching for a better explanation. Her eyes found his in desperation, "Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

letting the days go by, into silent water [open]

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