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]

[ Clearly Zane touched on something personal here. But - he finds that he actually likes this one. He has some respect for the anger he sees there.

He settles back against the wall. Doesn't believe he's in any danger here. ]

If I couldn't, you wouldn't be the one to help me.

[ Not fooling himself into believing that the liking is mutual. ]

[itstopped]

According to you, it's a rare man who could. [Would he help if Zane was truly in danger? It's been a while since he had to ask such a question of himself... at one time, he would have unequivocally believed the answer to be yes, but at one time he would have also believed that strangers would do the same for him.]

But if you're well enough not to go to the infirmary, it's a moot point, anyway. [He dodges the barb thus and flashes a thin smirk, turning away with his strangely stiff gait.]

[godsays]

Not a rare man who could - just a rare man who wouldn't close their eyes to anything that happens next.

[ His voice rises, calling after Felix. ]

If I saved your life, and you killed a man, I would burn the body myself.

[itstopped]

[Too late, he thinks, thinking of Sharon-- of Eight. Which doesn't really count, anyway, he reminds himself.

But the other blood on his hands, then.]

And what would you do with your own? [He stops, but doesn't turn around.]

[godsays]

[ He finds his fingers pressing against a hard lump at his breastbone. An odd sensation, in his mind, as though there's something he should be thinking about.

He - misunderstands, perhaps. ] With the bodies I've left behind?

I leave them. For whoever cares to see.

[ Whoever cares to feel responsible. ]

[itstopped]

[It most definitely is a misunderstanding, enough that Felix turns back to look at him, eyes narrowed and clearly disgusted.]

I meant with yourself.

[godsays]

[ A shrug. ] Whatever's next.

[ He moves on. He faces the next obstacle. Always. ]

[itstopped]

[He snorts.] So much for the lecture on taking responsibility, then. I'll stick with Dr. Banner, thank you.

[godsays]

Why? What would you have me do, kill you?

[ Genuinely curious. ]

[itstopped]

You're the one talking about leaving frakking bodies behind. [Are you serious, Zane? He looks pretty incredulous.] Whose responsibility is that supposed to be?

[godsays]

[ A faint smile. ] He spent so much time making me into his weapon. What cruelty it would be to deny him responsibility for the results.

[itstopped]

Of course. That's convenient.

[godsays]

Then maybe it started being mine when I stopped doing as he said.

[itstopped]

Oh, is that when it started?

[godsays]

I don't know. No one's told me why I'm here.

[itstopped]

And if no one told you, how can you possibly answer for yourself? [Well, he no longer has to worry about taking any of Zane's discourse on consequences seriously, he tells himself.] Good luck with that.

[godsays]

I did answer for it. I died. [ Since when isn't that punishment enough? ] Someone decided that wasn't enough.

[itstopped]

[That much, he sympathizes with... but the difference is, it's not at all hard for him to see why Zane woke up here, if he gives any credence at all to the so-called morality of this place.

Not that he actually does.

His situation is opposite, though: he's never not taken responsibility for the mutiny. He was wrong. He and Tom were wrong, they were sentenced, they were executed. Why he supposedly gets an eternity of hell under the disguise of a second chance is as beyond him as it is beyond Zane.]

Welcome to the Barge, then.

[He's tired of this; Barbara would make better company, and she might be in the engine room by now, and if he makes himself take the stairs it's a long way down. He shakes his head and limps away.]