adsum | npc contact.1

Come in.

[ The voice echoes strangely through the door, but if Moriarty turns the handle he'll find that it opens for him, lock clicking softly when it swings closed again. Inside is a young man sitting on top of a desk, munching on a bag of pretzel sticks laid open beside him. Around the room are several chairs: a plastic folding chair, an office chair with arms, an office chair without arms, a recliner, a rocking chair, and a beanbag, all of which the man gestures to with one sweep of his arm for Moriarty to choose which seat he wants. ]

Pretzel?

[Well, he'll go right in then - and immediately choose the recliner because it is the softest thing he's been able to relax in for weeks. He practically sinks into it. He is never leaving this fucking recliner again.

After his moment of sheer bliss, he comes back to himself and waves away the offer.]

No, but thank you.

[There's a pause, before he clears his throat.]

So...shall we get to it, then?

[Act like he knows exactly what's going on or why he has an appointment in the first place, and fake it til he makes it. Right? Right.]

Edited 2021-05-09 04:14 (UTC)

[ They have until the session's over at 6, so enjoy that recliner. The counselor nods to himself, as if making a mental checkmark for which chair was chosen this session, and pulls another pretzel stick out of the bag, snapping off the tip between his front teeth and chewing slowly.

The awkward pauses is followed by another. He finishes the pretzel. ]

So... What's on your mind today, James?

[ This is how counseling works. You choose the topic. ]

[Oh.

Oh, this is a normal counselling session.

Ah.

shit.]

....Well, that I'm actually a 50-something old man?

[After he's quickly recovered from his shock, he just goes back to what he knows - being goofy and cheerful and seemingly guileless. In fact, from what he could remember, his 'student' self was also quite cheery and goofy but kept to himself. A 'joke' like this would be fine, right?

...As odd as it was to think of that 'self' as him, but for now, he was treating it more as if the student was another Phantasmal spirit that had been fused with him.

It's less disconcerting that way.]

Edited 2021-05-09 22:44 (UTC)

[ The counselor nods, no surprise passing over his face at all, because... anybody with eyes can see that Moriarty is an old man, sitting here in the school's counselor's office wearing a schoolboy's uniform. ]

The reminders are everywhere, aren't they? The incongruence.

[ Must be tough, sitting in a tiny plastic chair all over again, relearning calculus. ]

Why do you think you're here?

[There's a moment of silence, as Moriarty struggles to keep his surprise under wraps.

So the counselor was able to see him as he was? Or did the teachers and others merely ignore his age? He hadn't interacted too much, but all other interactions were done by people at around school age...He'd have to change that. Gather more information.

God, he truly was thinking like a Detective. It leaves such a bittersweet taste in his mouth.]

[But, then he masters himself again in the space of a blink. It's fine. Focus on what's in front of you. stop getting taken off guard - you're James Moriarty, for god's sake.

Instead, he 'nervously' licks his lips, taking a breath before speaking.]

I'm...if I may be blunt? I - I'm not entirely sure. My memory is - it's been a little spotty lately...

[It's performed wonderfully, even as he leans into this whole...odd thing. It's even true - well, the not sure part, anyway.]

[ He nods, again with no apparent surprise. Old age? School stress? There are plenty of factors that contribute to failing memory, especially if it's of late. ]

Perhaps that's why you're here.

[ Mister repeat student... getting held back does go hand in hand with bad memory, but if it's to this extent, school might be the least of Moriarty's problems. ]

How much do you remember? About this school... about this office... about me.

[INSERT SCREECHING CAR TIRE NOISE AT THAT LAST BIT, because that is currently what just played in Moriarty's head.

Look, he's from a very repressed time period - you can't blame him for his mind skipping to that!! Thankfully, after a moment, he realizes there are other ways that can be taken - and obviously, the more innocent assumptions are the ones he's going for.

...God, listening to teenagers prattle about their love lives is getting to him. Still, he continues to play his role.]

Ah, well...I remember being in class, obviously. Most other things are...a bit vague, as of late. I don't remember if I had any friends, and I've....sir, I'm sorry, but I cannot even remember your name. It has been....extremely worrying, to lose such things.

[He looks down, hands clasped together and 'attempting' to hide the shaking in them, as if from fear and anxiety.]

I've obviously been here before, due to that we had an appointment...but beyond that, it's a haze. Though, perhaps I merely need to be reminded of things....

[ The way Moriarty hesitates after each time the counselor speaks makes him smile a little, amused and maybe something more, but he listens patiently, munches on a pretzel stick as a way of occupying his hand and filling the silence without interrupting. ]

I'm sure it must be distressing. To forget... to be forgotten... [ He touches the tip of his fingers to his chest, then brings it down the pretzel bag for another stick ] It hurts the heart as much as it taxes the mind, to lose so much of what's important. Before we touch upon why you are here, do you remember who you are? James Moriarty...

[ He leans forward on his knees, flipping a pretzel stick in between his fingers. ]

Are you still you, at your core?

[...

Moriarty, for a brief moment, considers jumping up and running out the door. Another moment of Hesitation - but the fact of the matter is, this sort of questioning is...

It's uncomfortable, to put it lightly. Everything he's saying is -

'Are you still you, at your core?'

He can't stop himself from speaking, because...what he just touched on is close to him - the him that he's declared for himself, his unshakable belief in who he is.]

Of course.

[He loses the nervousness, the hesitation - almost instantly, his voice becoming much firmer.]

I am James Moriarty. Even if my mind falters, that sentiment will not change. I will not change, nor be shaken from that fact.

['Was I a real person, once upon a time? Or am I just a fictional villain?

....In the end, it doesn't matter. What matters is that I am here as I am.'

He remembers that he only just told Ritsuka that, to his perspective. And that - is so very important to him.]

[ A slow smile grows on his face, evidently pleased with that answer and the conviction with which it is said. ]

That's right. You are James Moriarty. No matter what you experience or what you remember- or are made to remember- that does not change that fact. Do not let anybody take that away from you.

[ He lifts the pretzel stick, draws a circle in the air in front of him where Moriarty sits. ]

Can you answer me now? Why are you here? What are you meant to do?

Of course no one can take that away from me!

[That is said with a bit of fire in it - he's already declared what he is, the truth of himself regardless of stories or the world forcing him into a role.

But the fire is paused when he asks that, because - how much does that man know? What is the answer he's looking for?

...

Perhaps, he should try - a little of the truth.]

To help guide those I can, and offer different perspectives to those whose youth may blind them to other options.

[It's what he promised to do at Ritsuka's side - but he has no idea if that is what the man in front of him wished to hear or not. He fixes him with a stare - a bit questioning, a bit resolute.]

...Unless, of course, there is something else I am forgetting.

You don't seem to recall everything fully, as of yet. But don't concern yourself too much about that. To remember every second of every day of one's life would be too taxing for the brain— the mind is a remarkable filter, however, and keeps what it believes is important. Even if you do not remember.

[ So much of one's being is unconscious, after all, with day to day experiences building up the whole, piece by piece by piece.

He leans forward a little, regarding Moriarty quietly for a moment. ]

I am here for you. Do you understand?

[...Is this what it's like to talk to him? With how easily and naturally he moves away from the subject - he finds it infuriating, though that thought is quickly tinged with a hint of irony.

Apparently, he can dish it out, but he can't take it.

Still...There's something else here, some unspoken past between them. Though even if he asks, he's certain he won't get a straight answer.]

...I do understand. And it is - a comfort.

[Lies, of course. He's been nothing but unnerved and off guard internally since this meeting began.]

Is this sort of memory loss - something you deal with normally? Or are you merely just skilled at your job?

[A little bit of levity, there. Will he dodge it, or...?]

[ The little bit of levity makes him laugh, deep and throaty. ]

You flatter me. I am experienced, that's all. What sort of counselor would I be if I weren't able to get into people's heads?

[ Messing around in there a little... tidying is what he means to do. Rearrange things just how he likes it. Ah, counseling. ]

[Isn't that a mood. The whole 'getting into people's heads' part, he means. Though he's also done his part guiding others, as a criminal consultant...hm.

Still, is this man truly not aware of Moriarty's act? Or does he also see it, and is playing along?

Or is Moriarty himself just overthinking?]

Haha, that's true enough.

[There's a moment of silence, before he shifts a little.]

I am also a little...worried. There was the - stabbing incident, and the body that appeared in the auditorium...

[The uh, decomposing body everyone just dumped there. Thankfully by this point in time, he's able to hide the two stab wounds he got via hyde, but perhaps it's time to ask about something a bit more directly and see the reaction he gets.]

That has been - one of the sources of my anxiety towards the future. Is this school - truly so dangerous?

[ He doesn't seem fazed at all, hearing about what happened— he's heard it all before, surely, from multiple sources as even though his door has remained closed for the majority of the school year thus far, it was never empty. But he frowns as appropriate, nods his head at that admittance of anxiety, and though he places the pretzel stick in his mouth, he merely holds it there as one would a cigarette because he at least has the presence of mind not to crunch loudly when he's being confided in.

He crunches after, though, before answering. ]

School is only as dangerous as you allow it to be. People are the ones who are truly dangerous— volatile, unpredictable— and, in those episodes, terribly in need of guidance. That's where I step in.

[ For murder counseling. ]

You're not worried of dying?

[Damn it all - he didn't realize he let his sheer indifference in the face of death slip out as he clears his throat, shuffling a little in his seat at the question.]

W-Well, I...Ah, well, I am an older man, you see. Death is more of an inevitability, instead of a horrible outcome.

[He shrugs, as if to say 'it is what it is.']

Of course, it is not a thing I relish in thinking about. But I am not a teenager, believing themselves to be immortal.

[Once he's answered that, he can actually let himself think about the first part of it - and the implications thereof.]

So...I have been - violent, in the past? And that is why I am here?

It's an inevitability to all.

[ Overall, a normal way of thinking, and although there's such thing as a healthy amount of fear, a lot of people never move past that to acceptance. Everybody is here to die! Glad we don't have to have this talk. ]

That aside... Your actions in the past are not why you are here. Think of it more as an "and." [ You fucked up, and you're here. It doesn't have to be the reason why. ]

You don't remember, do you, James? But that's alright. You are you. Your actions, the consequences, are yours and yours alone, regardless of whether you remember. And you will take responsibility for them. If you accept, give me your left hand.

['Everybody is here to die' what do you mean ori EXPLAIN

Either way, it's hard not to notice the way the counselor refused to give his name, or to discuss what he did prior. But it's not as if he's incorrect - even when he was truly memoryless in shinjuku, he was still himself, still had the consequences of his actions, and still took responsibility for them.

So - with a moment to close his eyes and prepare himself for whatever is going to happen - he reaches out with his left, placing it in the counselor's grasp.]

[ It's murderschool, I have Expectations

The counselor slides off the desk, wiping pretzel dust off his hands before striding over to Moriarty and taking his hand— one hand to hold, one hand to trace a line on Moriarty's palm. The life line. It itches when the counselor touches his skin, and at the same time, the tally marks on Moriarty's wrist begins to burn, a searing pain, one finger pressed to the end of the line while the other hand wraps itself around Moriarty's wrist with surprising strength to prevent him from pulling away.

He opens his eyes and it's darkness, it's silence, there's the distinct lack of air or space to move but he finds himself trying anyways, hands scrabbling at— dirt? soil, heavy and damp, crushing him on all sides, something with too many legs skittering over the back of his hand, something with no legs slithering inside his open mouth that's screaming, shouting, no breath left in his lungs that burn and sear as he keeps calling for help, crying for somebody to save him— for somebody to hear him— for Maya to-

He opens his eyes and he's in the counselor's office. The counselor is crouched in front of him, hands to himself again, peering up at Moriarty.

...He breathes a sigh, and pushes off his knees to stand. ]

That will be the end of our counselling sessions, James. For now.

[Whatever he expected - it wasn't this. This horror, this - This had been a very real fear when he was alive. The horror of being buried alive, suffocating underground where no one can hear you scream...

But it is also too close to the memory of his true death, of when his back was broken and the water of the falls surrounded him as he drowned, the surface of the water forever out of reach of his paralyzed body.

Once he comes back - he's shaking. Genuinely shaking for the first time, cold sweat breaking out on his skin and basically hyperventilating in front of the counselor, because - because for a moment, he doesn't know if he's back in those waters, or under the ground, both times desperate for a breath or a miracle that will never, ever come.]

Wh-wait -

[Despite what he normally acts like, he reaches forward and tries to grab onto the counselor - hands, arm, anything - something to cement him back onto what is real.]

What - what do you - mean....?

[He doesn't even really know what he's saying at the moment, as his mind is scrambling for some kind of stability while also still trying to keep the conversation going out of some kind of instinct.]

[ It's the arm that Moriarty is able to grab first, and although the counselor gently removes his arm, he takes Moriarty's hands in turn and holds them both in his. They're warm hands, a firm grip, that pull Moriarty up onto his feet but remain there in front of him for stability. ]

I'm here. I know it's a lot to take in... but it's important that open your eyes and take that step. Don't look away from the truth.

[ He gives Moriarty's hands another squeeze. Shhhh. It's okay. It'll be okay. ]

I'll be here when you need me again; I won't abandon you.

npc contact.1

full navigation

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

no subject

no subject

1/2, again

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)