[The demand irks him, but Ronan is aware that he has little choice but to comply. Bruce is trustworthy, isn't he?
It doesn't make him any less defensive when he speaks, his voice almost accusatory, senselessly angry despite the fact that Bruce has done nothing wrong.]
Where do you think all of it comes from? The medicine, the bandages, the goddamn autoclave? [He sets his tight, rounding on Bruce.] That shit- all of this- it doesn't come from the fucking caves. You knew that.
[Ronan looks to him sharply, his eyes dark and measuring. The insect buzzes off toward the main area until the sound dims and there's just silence between the two of them.
Ronan has been known to stare at people until they crumple. There's something weaponized about his full attention, and when he gives it, it's never a good sign. But Bruce, who has stared down far worse monsters than a seventeen year old boy, doesn't fold. In the end, Ronan finds what he's looking for and part of him relents, just a fraction.]
It comes from me. From my dreams.
[It's a blunt fact, not spoken softly or angrily anymore. Just the truth. Bruce probably deserves that by now.]
[But this is probably not a conversation for the hallway, so he moves back toward the main area, toward one of the sinks for water. Without a glass, he just bends down and drinks straight from the stream coming out of the faucet, pulling back after a moment and wiping his face on the back of his sleeve.]
Look, I can try to explain it, but it's complicated. [There's a pause, and his expression darkens again, threatening.] And I'm dead fucking serious about secrecy. You say anything, and there's no limit to what I can send after you. You know that now, right?
[Bruce tells him- mildly exasperated is the wrong word for it, because that's too close a cousin to irritation. But let's head this off here and now.]
Back when I thought I couldn't cope, and the world would be better off without me. I turned green and spat the bullet back out. So please stop trying to frighten me. I am older than you, calmer than you, and you can't hurt me. But more importantly, you are not going to need to.
[Ronan goes quiet at that, introspective for a moment. Ultimately, he shakes his head, fingers twisting nervously around the leather bands he wears at his wrist.
When he speaks, his voice is less hostile, but colder, matter-of-fact.]
What happens when someone decides that they want- I don't know, a fucking missile launcher? A weapon of mass destruction? [And then, quieter-] -what if someone loses a person they love? What if they tell me that they'll kill Parrish if I don't do what they want?
[He's not quite looking at Bruce anymore.]
People die for this. Have died. The consequences are very fucking real, and I'll say all the threats I can to avoid them. I don't scare you, I get that, but I should.
[Ronan grudgingly follows him, somewhat mollified by his answer. Liquid in general sounds good right now, if the raging headache and upset stomach are anything to go by. Describing his powers while hungover is not the ideal scenario, but at least this will make it a bit better.
He hops up on the counter when they reach the kitchen area, quiet for a moment before he speaks:]
I dreamt about Gansey. He's allergic to bees, you know. He was running from me. When I finally caught up, he turned into those things.
[Nothing is unintentional in his dreams, in what he brings back. Even if he doesn't mean to take it, part of him wants it. Cabeswater just doesn't differentiate Ronan's logical desires from the self destructive ones, and it causes problems, results in situations like these.]
It's- I don't know. I meant to do it and I didn't.
[There's not really another way to describe it. Ronan inspects the pills he's handed for a moment, recognizing the familiarity of them before he takes them, washes them down with a deep drink of water.]
Unless you're hung up on the people thing. Believe me when I say that taking Dick goddamn Gansey out of my head would create a hell of a lot more problems then it would solve. He turned into wasps in the dream, and I- you know, it just happened.
I'm hung up on every part of it. It's like nothing I've ever come across, and on a scientific level, it's fascinating. I'm sorry that you have to be this secretive about it because I'd love to study the ability properly- but as someone with a similar problem, I can understand why that's never going to happen.
[Promising, assuredly.]
So what happens when you're doing it on purpose? How did you bring back those pills for me?
[Ronan watches Bruce for a moment, nodding in agreement- it's not going to happen. Gansey was the one who wanted to know more about this from a logical, scientific perspective, and Gansey is gone.]
You know how sometimes you can imagine how something feels before you touch it? It's that, like- dreaming is the imagining and actually touching it is real. Like- fuck, I don't know, I have to hold it and then I really hold it, and then I wake up and it's in my hands.
[He looks down at his hands then, which are still clasped around the water- which he drinks from, almost draining the glass.]
The place I go to, it's different than how other people dream. That's why it works, I think.
[That manages to get a little smile out of him, sharp and dangerous, like barbed wire.]
You called it 'junk science'. [But he takes the tea gratefully, despite having already drank quite a bit of liquid. He's dehydrated, he feels like shit, and this is better than anything else he could be handed right about now.]
It's a real place, but it's also not. Like, if you were in my world, you could go there yourself, but I can go there when I'm asleep. I can shape it, do whatever I want. I don't get- what, alien invasions or zombies or whatever it is you guys dream about. [He shrugs.] Just there.
[Ronan just shakes his head at the question in a simple but honest answer.]
It was always there. I just didn't understand it. Too much shit was going on, I think. I didn't really use it until... fuck I don't know, a few months before we were kidnapped to the last world.
[There's a pause, before he offers Bruce a grim little smile- proud and weary at the same time.]
Chainsaw. She was the first time I did it on purpose.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2016-01-07 03:35 am (UTC)[The demand irks him, but Ronan is aware that he has little choice but to comply. Bruce is trustworthy, isn't he?
It doesn't make him any less defensive when he speaks, his voice almost accusatory, senselessly angry despite the fact that Bruce has done nothing wrong.]
Where do you think all of it comes from? The medicine, the bandages, the goddamn autoclave? [He sets his tight, rounding on Bruce.] That shit- all of this- it doesn't come from the fucking caves. You knew that.
no subject
Date: 2016-01-07 03:51 am (UTC)[Bruce points out, very, very quietly.]
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Date: 2016-01-07 04:07 am (UTC)Ronan has been known to stare at people until they crumple. There's something weaponized about his full attention, and when he gives it, it's never a good sign. But Bruce, who has stared down far worse monsters than a seventeen year old boy, doesn't fold. In the end, Ronan finds what he's looking for and part of him relents, just a fraction.]
It comes from me. From my dreams.
[It's a blunt fact, not spoken softly or angrily anymore. Just the truth. Bruce probably deserves that by now.]
no subject
Date: 2016-01-08 12:26 am (UTC)[He infers, with a quiet nod.]
How does it happen? And how does the alcohol play into it? You said it makes it easier?
[But also, maybe, a little less controlled.]
no subject
Date: 2016-01-08 01:17 am (UTC)Christ, one question at a time.
[But this is probably not a conversation for the hallway, so he moves back toward the main area, toward one of the sinks for water. Without a glass, he just bends down and drinks straight from the stream coming out of the faucet, pulling back after a moment and wiping his face on the back of his sleeve.]
Look, I can try to explain it, but it's complicated. [There's a pause, and his expression darkens again, threatening.] And I'm dead fucking serious about secrecy. You say anything, and there's no limit to what I can send after you. You know that now, right?
no subject
Date: 2016-01-08 01:40 am (UTC)[Bruce tells him- mildly exasperated is the wrong word for it, because that's too close a cousin to irritation. But let's head this off here and now.]
Back when I thought I couldn't cope, and the world would be better off without me. I turned green and spat the bullet back out. So please stop trying to frighten me. I am older than you, calmer than you, and you can't hurt me. But more importantly, you are not going to need to.
no subject
Date: 2016-01-08 02:03 am (UTC)When he speaks, his voice is less hostile, but colder, matter-of-fact.]
What happens when someone decides that they want- I don't know, a fucking missile launcher? A weapon of mass destruction? [And then, quieter-] -what if someone loses a person they love? What if they tell me that they'll kill Parrish if I don't do what they want?
[He's not quite looking at Bruce anymore.]
People die for this. Have died. The consequences are very fucking real, and I'll say all the threats I can to avoid them. I don't scare you, I get that, but I should.
no subject
Date: 2016-01-08 02:56 am (UTC)Come on. I know you've got to be feeling last night, let's get a cup of the closest thing I can summon here to coffee. I am not going to tell anyone.
no subject
Date: 2016-01-08 06:15 am (UTC)He hops up on the counter when they reach the kitchen area, quiet for a moment before he speaks:]
I dreamt about Gansey. He's allergic to bees, you know. He was running from me. When I finally caught up, he turned into those things.
[Nothing is unintentional in his dreams, in what he brings back. Even if he doesn't mean to take it, part of him wants it. Cabeswater just doesn't differentiate Ronan's logical desires from the self destructive ones, and it causes problems, results in situations like these.]
So I took them. Now they're here.
no subject
Date: 2016-01-08 08:09 pm (UTC)[He agrees, quietly, as he sets the blackest tea he has on to steep, and in the meantime goes to find him merciful painkillers, and a glass of water.]
You couldn't bring the real version of him back, that way?
no subject
Date: 2016-01-08 08:21 pm (UTC)Not the real one. I mean- maybe, it depends on your definition. It's complicated.
[He shrugs quietly, slouching where he's sitting.] I wouldn't have taken the person, but when he fell apart, the pieces were just there.
no subject
Date: 2016-01-08 08:40 pm (UTC)[He says, putting the pills and glass into his hands, to make sure he drinks.]
What do you mean?
no subject
Date: 2016-01-08 09:00 pm (UTC)[There's not really another way to describe it. Ronan inspects the pills he's handed for a moment, recognizing the familiarity of them before he takes them, washes them down with a deep drink of water.]
Unless you're hung up on the people thing. Believe me when I say that taking Dick goddamn Gansey out of my head would create a hell of a lot more problems then it would solve. He turned into wasps in the dream, and I- you know, it just happened.
no subject
Date: 2016-01-09 12:39 am (UTC)[Promising, assuredly.]
So what happens when you're doing it on purpose? How did you bring back those pills for me?
no subject
Date: 2016-01-09 12:59 am (UTC)You know how sometimes you can imagine how something feels before you touch it? It's that, like- dreaming is the imagining and actually touching it is real. Like- fuck, I don't know, I have to hold it and then I really hold it, and then I wake up and it's in my hands.
[He looks down at his hands then, which are still clasped around the water- which he drinks from, almost draining the glass.]
The place I go to, it's different than how other people dream. That's why it works, I think.
no subject
Date: 2016-01-09 03:06 am (UTC)[Is the question that statement just begs. Bruce brings him tea next; black as pitch and a little bitter, but the best thing they have.]
What's it like? How's it different?
no subject
Date: 2016-01-09 03:35 am (UTC)You called it 'junk science'. [But he takes the tea gratefully, despite having already drank quite a bit of liquid. He's dehydrated, he feels like shit, and this is better than anything else he could be handed right about now.]
It's a real place, but it's also not. Like, if you were in my world, you could go there yourself, but I can go there when I'm asleep. I can shape it, do whatever I want. I don't get- what, alien invasions or zombies or whatever it is you guys dream about. [He shrugs.] Just there.
no subject
Date: 2016-01-09 03:48 am (UTC)[Is the 'junk science' conversation he remembers. But;]
How do those fit in to it being a dream? You know they're there in the ground?
no subject
Date: 2016-01-09 04:05 am (UTC)[He laughs, a little croaky in dehydration, and then winces at the sharp pang it brings to his head.]
I'm... connected to it, maybe. That specific place.
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Date: 2016-01-09 05:18 pm (UTC)[Growing implies something organic, but he doesn't want to assume.]
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Date: 2016-01-09 07:07 pm (UTC)[He shrugs, a little halfhearted as he takes a drink of his tea.]
But I can change it, because it's my dream. It lets me do what I want.
no subject
Date: 2016-01-10 01:42 am (UTC)[He wonders, stroking a thoughtful fingertip over his mouth.]
no subject
Date: 2016-01-11 01:52 am (UTC)It was always there. I just didn't understand it. Too much shit was going on, I think. I didn't really use it until... fuck I don't know, a few months before we were kidnapped to the last world.
[There's a pause, before he offers Bruce a grim little smile- proud and weary at the same time.]
Chainsaw. She was the first time I did it on purpose.
no subject
Date: 2016-01-11 05:54 am (UTC)[He thinks he remembers there being a name- and of course, that'd make sense.]
She's beautiful. And so devoted to you.
no subject
Date: 2016-01-11 04:02 pm (UTC)[He snorts a little in laughter, but it's obviously clear that the devotion goes both ways.]
I left her at home. Didn't want her picking up my bad habits. [A little halfhearted shrug.] Parrish will take care of her if I'm gone for too long.
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