yinyangwizard: (Modern)
[personal profile] yinyangwizard
Seimei enters the bar in the wee hours of the morning, when there are very few people downstairs. He pens a note and leaves it with the Bar for delivery to Jim Moriarty.

It simply says: All is ready. Meet me in the library.

And then Seimei heads there. Needless to say he will have plenty of books to keep himself occupied until Jim arrives.

Date: 2017-03-11 08:08 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Close Up)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
Well, here it is. Jim won't pretend he hasn't been dreading this, but he also know he's not going to back away.

So he just screws the note up, sets light to it, and walks up to the library.


He hasn't dressed up, just wearing jeans and a plain shirt. He looks calm, though his eyes are restless as they take Seimei in.

'You pick your times. If I hadn't persuaded my boyfriend to leave yesterday, I'd have some explaining to do.'

But if he hadn't persuaded Sherlock to leave he wouldn't have got the note until the morning anyway, so whatever. It's not like he was asleep.

Edited Date: 2017-03-11 09:56 pm (UTC)

Date: 2017-03-12 02:41 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Eye)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
Jim has a good memory for everything. It's a nightmare.

'Oh, this is when you put me in a jar,' he says casually, as if it's not a big deal.

'Can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to that.'

Date: 2017-03-12 04:58 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Business Shades)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose

He signed the contract. He wouldn't have done that if he weren't already sure.

'Do you want me to go down and destroy the drones now, or will you trust me to do it when we get back?'

He still wants to make sure he gets back, but Seimei gets all touchy when he points that out, so he doesn't.

Date: 2017-03-12 06:08 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Poolside Blue)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
He shrugs lightly.

'All right.'

And turns on his heel, assuming that Seimei will either follow, or not.

'How long will the whole thing take?'

Date: 2017-03-12 10:34 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Sly)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
Well, that's good. Jim just nods, and wanders out, down to the bar. The drones are still up, of course. He requests the control box and his laptop from Bar, hooks one up to the other, and opens a special file.

Three minutes later, there are a number of small bangs up in the rafters, and debris showers down at certain points of the room. Jim's humming to himself as he closes the computer down, and vaults lightly up onto the counter. He picks up the control box and drops it without preamble, watching it crunch down onto the floor. It doesn't smash, but the sudden flashing of every light on the console will be enough to show that it's not going to be working any time soon.

That taken care of - and still humming - Jim drops down, returns his laptop to Bar's keeping, and saunters back up to the library.

Date: 2017-03-12 11:49 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Why So Stupid)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
This is it, then.

Jim eyes the thing as cold dread sweeps up through him. Part of it is hating putting himself in someone else's hands like this. Most of it is that he hates having made this choice at all.

But he has. There was no other choice. So he steps forward, takes a breath and exhales into the jar.

Date: 2017-03-13 12:18 am (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Close Up)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
And it feels...oh God, he can't breathe, it feels awful, why does it feel so awful?

(There is something very apt, he feels - vaguely, through all the not-breathing and utter weakness - about starting life this way. Maybe it can only get better from here, or maybe it's just a taste of things to come.)

And there's goo. What's the - oh, right, the body, it probably- -

Logic melts in the face of a coughing fit, and an attempt to fill lungs that continue to object to it.

Date: 2017-03-13 11:57 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (*gasp*)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
Jim registers all this without even realising it, putting names to the things he recognises and cataloging the bits he doesn't. It's the most reassuring thing that could happen; his mind does it with no prompting, absorbing everything the way it always does, and letting him know that he still has his mental prowess, even before he's with it enough to worry about such a thing at all.

It doesn't take too long to start breathing properly, though the coughing takes a bit longer. He lets Seimei hold his head up...until he's scrambling suddenly, trying to kneel up with his chest out of the goo so he can check the tattoo on his ribs is okay. And it is, so that's good. And...that much effort makes him feel even worse, and he has to grip the edge of the pool with shaking hands.

This is rubbish. He doesn't say it, but he's thinking it. He hasn't felt this bad in years.

Date: 2017-03-14 12:05 am (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Depression)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
Jim is taking the time to stare at his arm, checking whether it looks as weak and useless as it feels. Because there's a big difference in muscles that look normal and just hold no power, or wasted ones that look like they belong on a famine victim. He is going to have to explain his physical appearance to Sherlock, after all.

He holds a hand up to Seimei, a silent wait. He doesn't relish showing weakness, or being helped. So he takes a moment to breath deeply a few times, focuses really hard, and...forces himself upright with no help, and makes it to the edge.

But that's all he's got for now. His legs won't hold him any longer, and the movement makes him feel sick.

'Being born was easier.'

Well, at least his voice works, even if it's hoarse. And his accent is the same. Weird, that. He'll have to figure out how it works, just - not yet.

Date: 2017-03-14 12:22 am (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Big Thinker)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
Jim does not bother responding to this. He's busy checking the inside of his head. Memories, Sherlock, his business, future plans; files, codes, names, secrets, numbers and numbers and numbers...he's well aware that if there are gaps, if there's anything he's forgotten, there's no way of knowing. But he has to be sure there are no illogical black holes, no nagging sensation of missing something, nothing that's going to bother him as time goes on. He checks his mental speed, runs equations, flips formulas, recites the math of random points of his thesis...yep, all there, all exactly where it should be.

He relaxes a little - not that he can really hold himself upright, or even steady - and starts wiping goo off his hair and face.

'I hope you've got a shower around here,' he mutters, though not rudely. He's not sure how he'd manage to stand up in one, to be honest.

Date: 2017-03-14 01:30 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Close Up)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
He doesn't want help. Certainly isn't going to ask for it. He just turns his head - which feels too heavy, like his neck might not be able to hold it - and looks at the towel, then marshals himself long enough to drag himself back on to it.

'Did you bring my clothes?'

He's not bothered about being naked in the slightest, but if he's going to have to walk back through the bar, he needs either clothes, or magic to stop Security coming down on him. Or the towel would do. Whatever. It's not the most pressing issue just now; he folds down to lie on his back, breathing through the effort of moving.

Date: 2017-03-14 01:54 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Messy)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
'Neat trick,' he mutters, closes his eyes, and just...lies there for a bit.

It's like that feeling when you haven't eaten for a day or two, and then had to do a lot of very intense physical exercise. Like the ultimate blood sugar crash, making you so weak and shaky you feel sick, and can't find the energy to lift your arm. And worse, he suspects, because a square meal and some sleep isn't going to make it go away. He's going to have to exercise. Bleurgh. Tedious.

Well, whatever. A few weeks of work won't kill him. He sighs eventually, and forces himself to drag the clothes over and start pulling them on. it takes far more focus than such a simple thing should but again, whatever. This is what it is.

'I suppose a stiff whiskey is out of the question.'

He's on his feet. Just about. Not looking very steady.

Date: 2017-03-14 02:01 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Why So Stupid)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
'I've got stuff at the bar.'

He's plucking at the front of his shirt, frowning at the hang of it. Perfect reproduction or not, this body feels like a puff of wind would blow it away. He feels thinner. Even if he's the same dimensions as before, there's no weight to the muscles. It feels bizarre from the inside, though that's probably not helped by the way his legs are trembling. Hands. Abs. Everything, really.

'Let's go.'

Because he would rather not fall down in front of anyone. He can do that on his own.

Date: 2017-03-14 02:26 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Drunk/Hurting)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
Nope, no help. He managed to stand on his own, he's going to manage walking. It's not even about pride, so much as seeing this as a challenge. And he's never going to start a whole new life by not stepping up to it, let alone failing.

He doesn't like the change in air pressure, though. Changes of any sort are gross when you're hyper-aware of how bad you feel. But he swallows down the flare of anger at the sensation - and thank God the anger's still there, still at hand; he needs that - and makes himself walk.

It's not good. At all. But he tells himself it's not far - and his rooms aren't much further - so he will force himself to make it.

Date: 2017-03-17 01:36 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Close Up)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
Jesus Christ. He'd assumed - wishful thinking - the exit would go straight to the bar. But there's a tunnel, he doesn't even care if it's short.

He internal utters a few choice curses, but grits his teeth and keeps going. He's in a cold sweat by the time they make Milliways, and has to grasp the edge of the door before stepping through. Thank God there's an elevator by the stairs, or he wouldn't make it.

'Hope this is going to be worth it.'

He does have one question, and now's as good a time as any to ask it. He needs to gather himself for another effort.

'Is that black crystal you gave me already linked? So I know when the debt's settled.'

Date: 2017-03-17 01:58 pm (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (All Gonna Die)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
Jim snorts quietly, because of course he has.

He takes it with a shaking hand, and gives it one glance before shoving it into his pocket.

'I hope you don't object if I change the necklace.'

Hemp is so not him. Not that he's going to wear it anyway, but that's not the point.

Date: 2017-03-18 01:01 am (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Dream A Little Dream)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
'I dont need help.'

Look, he's standing up! All on his own! if he can do that, he can - almost certainly - walk a couple of hundred more yards without falling over more than once. He's good.

'I feel like convention dictates I thank you at this point.'

But he's not going to. He's still not thankful. He's still not glad he's done this.

'Luckily, I think conventions are stupid. But you did a good job.'

Date: 2017-03-18 01:04 am (UTC)
just_cant_lose: (Black)
From: [personal profile] just_cant_lose
'I would have thought a master craftsman like you would be more pleased by that.'

Didn't he get all huffy when he thought his integrity was being questioned? Whatever; Jim is in no state to argue. He just nods, and tries to convince his legs to take him where he needs to go.


yinyangwizard: (Default)

March 2017

5678910 11

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 22nd, 2017 08:27 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios