2nd Metal / open spam covering the next few days

[godsays]

[ He never had thought of Mistborn powers as being an addiction, but this may force him to admit he was wrong. He craves the metals, craves the sensations that come with them. He feels as though his body has been wrapped in cotton; no longer can he distinguish the grains of wood through his fingertips, or hear the whisper of a heartbeat from a room away. He can't use lines of metal to sense movement and to chart his surroundings. Can't fall and fly. Can't lean on the emotions of those he meets. He's trapped in his skull, a prisoner of locked doors and gravity.

This is what drives him to some desperation.

There are many risks that come with seeking out metals not metallurgist-crafted. Alloys can be impure; they can be of an incorrect mixture. It's hard to flake off bits of metal. Chewing on them will only result in certain trace metals in the system, and those could be burned off easily and quickly without much benefit.

So: find him anywhere in a public area, focused on some sort of metal. Perhaps determinedly working at the tines of a fork or attempting to chew on a pipe. Licking, in an attempt to taste the composition of an alloy. (This is unsurprisingly ineffective.)

And then, at some point, he may succeed in flaking/bending off/acquiring some metal that can be swallowed. Unfortunately, alloys of incorrect percentage give him a blinding headache and leave him nauseated and down for the count. So feel free to also find him curled into a ball really wishing he hadn't just tried to do that. ]

Comments

[godsays]

God's voice.

[ The response is reflexive, and also incorrect; Zane always knew it wasn't God. ]

Told me to kill. Everyone I met, it told me to kill. Except one.

[ Except Vin. ]

Then at the end, when I was dying, I heard it say - that I'd never been crazy, after all. Like it was a joke. I didn't believe it, but...

You really can. You're not lying?

[wedonot]

I swear I'm not.

[He hesitates, nearly giving in to the impulse to bite his lip as he continues to wonder what to say next and how to phrase it.]

I could show you? If you're at all uncomfortable, I won't. I just want to help.

[godsays]

[ He doesn't believe it could do any harm. His mind is a mess, bold-colored sharp-edged tatters shivering and splintering.

He gives a single nod. Go ahead. ]

[wedonot]

[He slowly brings his hand up to his temple, making sure he can see what he's doing, and gently reaches out to touch the other man's mind. It's gentle, barely brushing the surface, because he doesn't want to startle him, but he still projects very clearly:]

Can you hear me?

[godsays]

[ He flinches.

Not a proud moment. Zane could stand unflinching in a hail of arrows. He faces battlefields with hardly a qualm. In this, he flinches; it's the volume, the unexpected familiarity of it. Like thinking an everyday, ordinary thought, the kind with a set path, like a furrow carved into the mind.

His hand flies to his temple.

Softly: ] Yes. I hear you.

[wedonot]

[He drops his hand and closes off the connection, not wanting to spook him or overstep this sign of quasi trust.]

Are you alright?

[godsays]

[ No. He's completely lost.

He finds that he would rather believe he was insane. He doesn't want to think that some person was in his mind, nudging him, playing with him. He stands at a hinge point; he can see both beliefs, outlined in front of him. They both pull at him.

He can't pick.

There is a bleak look in his eyes. ]

Someone changed me.

[ Like he's testing the idea out by saying it. Testing out the horror that comes with that thought. ]

[wedonot]

[It's definitely scary, uncharted territory, and it's important to tread lightly through it, because he wants to help, but there are still a lot of unknowns, and it's not a topic you wanted to blunder into without knowing all the information.]

While making you think you were insane?

[godsays]

Made me insane.

[ No use in mincing words. He's crazy now, no matter whose fault it was in the first place. ]

[wedonot]

I'm sorry. That's a... disgusting abuse of their ability.

[He doesn't really know what else to say, or how to fix it, but.]

[godsays]

[ He doesn't know what to say. His world has been rocked, fractured, is held together by fragile strings that seem easily cut. He looks up to Charles, and his eyes are open, frightened, shaken to the core. He is here, and he is powerless, and someone has wounded him, so deeply he cannot understand the fullness of it from within his own skin.

He leans back against the wall, slides down it. Feels the point of that spike drag against the metal - and then that thought dissolves from his mind as quickly as it came. He stays curled against the wall, on the ground. ]

[wedonot]

[Charles hesitates for only a moment before crouching down next to him, concerned, and not sure if he wanted to reach out to him or not. His time on the Barge has made him more wary than he'd ever been before - being caught off guard and near fatally stabbed leaves an impression on you - but at the same time, he doesn't want to do nothing, especially considering this is in some way his fault.

So it's sort of against his better judgment that he does end up reaching out to Zane, carefully putting a hand on his shoulder, already on alert for any sign of hostility or violence, but trying to just be gentle with him, like he's a stray cat you were trying to coax to come in from the rain.]

I promise you, you will be able to get help here. I know this must be difficult, but you're not alone, and there are people here who want to help.

[godsays]

[ He is shaking. Subtle tremors, like how the earth would sometimes shudder under his feet, after the Lord Ruler died. His muscles are locked and tense. ]

Please. [ How low has he fallen, already, to beg for metals? He disgusts himself. ] I can't do harm with some of them. Tin. Copper. You can tell that's the truth.

[ He wants some power back. Some control. Anything. ]