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xp_logs2006-03-31 01:34 am
x-cable.livejournal.com) wrote in xp_logs2006-03-31 01:34 am
House of Wind: Tempus Vincit Omnia
Nathan wakes up in Rio de Janeiro. Gideon greets him. The two of them have something that almost passes for a civilized conversation. Gideon makes it very clear where he stands, and how far he's willing to go. Nathan, on the other hand, does not.
He was lying on his side, on something soft. Not soft enough that he wasn't aware of how sore and battered he was, how much he hurt. Nathan stirred, a noise of pain escaping him as he tried to open his impossibly heavy eyes. The haze in his mind was familiar. He knew that feeling. He'd been drugged?
It took him far too long to focus, once he did manage to open his eyes. Turning onto his back with a groan and pushing himself upwards a little - sitting up properly was a little beyond him at the moment - Nathan stared at the bedroom around him as his vision blurred and cleared. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Oh yeah. Definitely drugged.
He didn't recognize this place. The furniture was... older. Antique, some of it. Beyond the tall, narrow windows, it was dark. Nathan looked down at himself, blinking to try and clear his vision. It didn't quite work. He realized he was wearing the same clothes he had been at the meeting. This morning? Surely it had only been this morning. He didn't feel like he'd been unconscious that long. Nathan raised a hand to the back of his head, wincing as his fingertips came into contact with a very distinct lump.
He remembered hitting the wall. There was still plaster dust on his clothes, he realized.
There was a noise from the door - a lock being unlocked? - and it opened. Gideon stepped in, closing it quietly behind him and just standing there, gazing at him levelly. Nathan stared back at him, slightly wide-eyed, not moving from the bed.
"Before we say anything else," Gideon said finally, his voice calm, almost conversational, "be aware that I've taken precautions, Nathan."
Nathan's eyes flickered around the room, nervously. No obvious security measures. His head didn't feel like reaching out to try and identify any kind of anti-psi technology would be a very good idea.
Gideon shook his head once, slowly. "Nothing so overt," he said, almost soothingly. "You've been unconscious for twelve hours, almost thirteen. It was long enough to be subtle."
"Subtle?" His voice came out in a rasp, and Nathan coughed, trying to clear his throat. Gideon moved smoothly over to a table against the far wall, where there was a pitcher and two glasses sitting on a tray. He filled one with water, then brought it over, offering it to Nathan. After a moment, Nathan took it. He hesitated a moment longer, wondering if it could be drugged, too.
"Don't be ridiculous." Gideon's voice was still quiet, not chiding despite his words. "I want you awake and alert while we talk. It's important that you understand what's going on."
Nathan took a small sip. "I understand," he said, his voice a little stronger. It wasn't entirely a lie. "Do you?"
"Mirrors reflect all kinds of interesting things," was the entirely unenlightening answer. Gideon sat down in an armchair a short distance away from the bed, arranging himself comfortably. "I had wondered," he said after a short pause, "why you would ever have agreed to meet with me. My brother is persuasive, but even he has his limits."
"What did you do with him?"
"Why, nothing." Gideon sounded vaguely offended. "I would never harm a hair on Saul's head."
"Family feeling?" Nathan raised an eyebrow, then took another sip of the water. It was fresh and cold and he could have drained the whole pitcher easiliy. "I didn't realize you had any."
"You don't know me very well, Nathan."
"I don't want to know you."
"And yet you put yourself in a position to guarantee that we would be spending a great deal of time together," Gideon said, tilting his head in a gesture that Nathan had seen in his father. And in the mirror. "I wonder if you really know what it is you want."
He hurt too much to be bantering with the family psychopath. "Your precautions?" he asked roughly, wrapping both hands around the glass of water. "We've gotten a little off-track."
"Triggers. In your mind." Gideon smiled faintly as Nathan's head jerked around, his whole body tensing. "Simple post-hypnotic suggestions, Nathan. Nothing fancy. It gave me something to do on the flight down here."
"How very nice for you." He had to force the words out. He hadn't expected this. Should have, when he thought about the visions, but still...
"If you attempt to leave without my permission, you'll be rendered unconscious. If you attack me... well, suffice to say that I once had a very illuminating discussion with one of the Mistra telepaths about the nature of the obedience imperative."
Nathan's hands were shaking. "Prove it," he said. He had to know, to be sure of how much room he had here.
"Very well. Gonatizo," Gideon said, his Greek accent flawless, and the glass slipped out of Nathan's hands, hitting the floor, the water in it splashing outwards across the carpet. The glass itself didn't break, but Nathan almost did in that moment, a choked scream tearing itself free of his throat as every muscle in his body went rigid and every nerve ending screamed.
"Antecho," he heard Gideon murmur, and it stopped, gone as quickly as it had come. Gasping, Nathan sagged back against the bed, seeing spots, trying to remind his lungs that really, they were supposed to work involuntarily. "Really, Nathan," his uncle said, "did you need the demonstration? You lived with this particular mechanism in your mind for sixteen years. If anything," he went on, sounding almost intrigued, "it was easier to create the feedback loop without the conditioning in the way."
He'd even used the same words. Gonatizo, ‛kneel'. Antecho, ‛stand'. And if you got the command to stand and couldn't... well, your day had been guaranteed to continue going downhill.
"I w-wish I'd killed you in Africa," he wheezed, not even trying to sit up. Ghostly fire danced along his bones, echoes of what had been there a minute earlier.
"Don't lie to me, Nathan. You may have wished me dead that day, but you didn't come to that ‛summit' to kill me. Things have changed," Gideon said calmly, "and we change with them."
"What do you want?" Nathan muttered, trying to get his limbs to obey him again. They weren't ready to do that just yet, it seemed.
"What do you want?"
"You destroyed."
"Interesting choice of words," Gideon murmured. "Very interesting. Very hostile, mind you. You want to see me destroyed, and I just... want to see." He smiled again, very slightly. "I want to see what you see. What your mother saw."
"So synch to me and take a look," Nathan growled shakily.
"If only it were that simple. Oh, I see things, when I synch to you," Gideon said, those unsettling eyes locked on Nathan's face, "but near-sighted precognitives are nothing new, Nathan."
And it hit him, all at once, what Gideon meant. What all of this meant. Finally.
"I want the long view," Gideon murmured, and the sudden, avid look in his eyes was a naked, terrifying thing. "I've wanted that for a very long time, nephew. And you're going to give it to me."
Nathan opened his mouth and then closed it again, raising a shaking hand to rub at his eyes. "Like hell I am," he managed half-heartedly, pushing himself up to his elbows at last.
Gideon's smile was slow, amused in the way that an adult was amused by a child's antics. "Do you remember Chad?" he asked simply.
Gideon's hand, on his shoulder. The whole world going cold and distant, and the way his shoulder had ached for weeks afterwards, phantom pain from a touch that had only lasted a minute or two. This was going to be bad, Nathan thought dimly. This was going to be quite a bit worse even than he'd thought.
"Some things," he said, his throat tight, "you shouldn't be in a hurry to see."
"We have time," Gideon said, rising slowly from the chair. "You should rest, Nathan," he advised with an avuncular smile. "If you're planning to make things any more difficult for yourself, you'll need it."
"I don't know any other way to make it.
"So I'm learning."
He was lying on his side, on something soft. Not soft enough that he wasn't aware of how sore and battered he was, how much he hurt. Nathan stirred, a noise of pain escaping him as he tried to open his impossibly heavy eyes. The haze in his mind was familiar. He knew that feeling. He'd been drugged?
It took him far too long to focus, once he did manage to open his eyes. Turning onto his back with a groan and pushing himself upwards a little - sitting up properly was a little beyond him at the moment - Nathan stared at the bedroom around him as his vision blurred and cleared. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Oh yeah. Definitely drugged.
He didn't recognize this place. The furniture was... older. Antique, some of it. Beyond the tall, narrow windows, it was dark. Nathan looked down at himself, blinking to try and clear his vision. It didn't quite work. He realized he was wearing the same clothes he had been at the meeting. This morning? Surely it had only been this morning. He didn't feel like he'd been unconscious that long. Nathan raised a hand to the back of his head, wincing as his fingertips came into contact with a very distinct lump.
He remembered hitting the wall. There was still plaster dust on his clothes, he realized.
There was a noise from the door - a lock being unlocked? - and it opened. Gideon stepped in, closing it quietly behind him and just standing there, gazing at him levelly. Nathan stared back at him, slightly wide-eyed, not moving from the bed.
"Before we say anything else," Gideon said finally, his voice calm, almost conversational, "be aware that I've taken precautions, Nathan."
Nathan's eyes flickered around the room, nervously. No obvious security measures. His head didn't feel like reaching out to try and identify any kind of anti-psi technology would be a very good idea.
Gideon shook his head once, slowly. "Nothing so overt," he said, almost soothingly. "You've been unconscious for twelve hours, almost thirteen. It was long enough to be subtle."
"Subtle?" His voice came out in a rasp, and Nathan coughed, trying to clear his throat. Gideon moved smoothly over to a table against the far wall, where there was a pitcher and two glasses sitting on a tray. He filled one with water, then brought it over, offering it to Nathan. After a moment, Nathan took it. He hesitated a moment longer, wondering if it could be drugged, too.
"Don't be ridiculous." Gideon's voice was still quiet, not chiding despite his words. "I want you awake and alert while we talk. It's important that you understand what's going on."
Nathan took a small sip. "I understand," he said, his voice a little stronger. It wasn't entirely a lie. "Do you?"
"Mirrors reflect all kinds of interesting things," was the entirely unenlightening answer. Gideon sat down in an armchair a short distance away from the bed, arranging himself comfortably. "I had wondered," he said after a short pause, "why you would ever have agreed to meet with me. My brother is persuasive, but even he has his limits."
"What did you do with him?"
"Why, nothing." Gideon sounded vaguely offended. "I would never harm a hair on Saul's head."
"Family feeling?" Nathan raised an eyebrow, then took another sip of the water. It was fresh and cold and he could have drained the whole pitcher easiliy. "I didn't realize you had any."
"You don't know me very well, Nathan."
"I don't want to know you."
"And yet you put yourself in a position to guarantee that we would be spending a great deal of time together," Gideon said, tilting his head in a gesture that Nathan had seen in his father. And in the mirror. "I wonder if you really know what it is you want."
He hurt too much to be bantering with the family psychopath. "Your precautions?" he asked roughly, wrapping both hands around the glass of water. "We've gotten a little off-track."
"Triggers. In your mind." Gideon smiled faintly as Nathan's head jerked around, his whole body tensing. "Simple post-hypnotic suggestions, Nathan. Nothing fancy. It gave me something to do on the flight down here."
"How very nice for you." He had to force the words out. He hadn't expected this. Should have, when he thought about the visions, but still...
"If you attempt to leave without my permission, you'll be rendered unconscious. If you attack me... well, suffice to say that I once had a very illuminating discussion with one of the Mistra telepaths about the nature of the obedience imperative."
Nathan's hands were shaking. "Prove it," he said. He had to know, to be sure of how much room he had here.
"Very well. Gonatizo," Gideon said, his Greek accent flawless, and the glass slipped out of Nathan's hands, hitting the floor, the water in it splashing outwards across the carpet. The glass itself didn't break, but Nathan almost did in that moment, a choked scream tearing itself free of his throat as every muscle in his body went rigid and every nerve ending screamed.
"Antecho," he heard Gideon murmur, and it stopped, gone as quickly as it had come. Gasping, Nathan sagged back against the bed, seeing spots, trying to remind his lungs that really, they were supposed to work involuntarily. "Really, Nathan," his uncle said, "did you need the demonstration? You lived with this particular mechanism in your mind for sixteen years. If anything," he went on, sounding almost intrigued, "it was easier to create the feedback loop without the conditioning in the way."
He'd even used the same words. Gonatizo, ‛kneel'. Antecho, ‛stand'. And if you got the command to stand and couldn't... well, your day had been guaranteed to continue going downhill.
"I w-wish I'd killed you in Africa," he wheezed, not even trying to sit up. Ghostly fire danced along his bones, echoes of what had been there a minute earlier.
"Don't lie to me, Nathan. You may have wished me dead that day, but you didn't come to that ‛summit' to kill me. Things have changed," Gideon said calmly, "and we change with them."
"What do you want?" Nathan muttered, trying to get his limbs to obey him again. They weren't ready to do that just yet, it seemed.
"What do you want?"
"You destroyed."
"Interesting choice of words," Gideon murmured. "Very interesting. Very hostile, mind you. You want to see me destroyed, and I just... want to see." He smiled again, very slightly. "I want to see what you see. What your mother saw."
"So synch to me and take a look," Nathan growled shakily.
"If only it were that simple. Oh, I see things, when I synch to you," Gideon said, those unsettling eyes locked on Nathan's face, "but near-sighted precognitives are nothing new, Nathan."
And it hit him, all at once, what Gideon meant. What all of this meant. Finally.
"I want the long view," Gideon murmured, and the sudden, avid look in his eyes was a naked, terrifying thing. "I've wanted that for a very long time, nephew. And you're going to give it to me."
Nathan opened his mouth and then closed it again, raising a shaking hand to rub at his eyes. "Like hell I am," he managed half-heartedly, pushing himself up to his elbows at last.
Gideon's smile was slow, amused in the way that an adult was amused by a child's antics. "Do you remember Chad?" he asked simply.
Gideon's hand, on his shoulder. The whole world going cold and distant, and the way his shoulder had ached for weeks afterwards, phantom pain from a touch that had only lasted a minute or two. This was going to be bad, Nathan thought dimly. This was going to be quite a bit worse even than he'd thought.
"Some things," he said, his throat tight, "you shouldn't be in a hurry to see."
"We have time," Gideon said, rising slowly from the chair. "You should rest, Nathan," he advised with an avuncular smile. "If you're planning to make things any more difficult for yourself, you'll need it."
"I don't know any other way to make it.
"So I'm learning."