unknowable | ic inbox [hadriel]

It was confusing, but not really dangerous. Better than some of the things that have happened here.

[In reality, Adam doesn't know Lance very well. He knows that. But it still feels like they should know each other, like it's easier to talk to Lance than it would be to someone he actually doesn't know that well.

So Adam continues, even if the mere act of doing so feels strange as well. He is naturally a fairly reticent person, at least when it comes to personal matters.]

I've never had a sibling before. Is that how it usually is?

[Lance thinks it might have to do with that, at least for the most part, people seemed to have the same or very similar personalities to those they normally have; there may have been exceptions here and there, and certain details or aspects might've changed slightly, but for the most part everyone was still who they are. The memories of past experiences might be fake, but not the knowledge of others' personalities, and that alone can create the sense of familiarity as well as actually giving a basis for it.]

I don't know; I don't have any siblings either.

[He's also normally very reserved as far as personal subjects go, including family, mostly because too many details starts to lead to questions he doesn't usually want to answer. But this much is harmless and something he doesn't have problems with being public knowledge.]

My friends do, though, and from what I've seen yes. Although that said my friends' relationships with their siblings aren't exactly 'usual.'

[For so many weird reasons.]

[He could say the same thing about his friends' sibling relationships, which are pretty much the extent of his experience with that sort of thing.

A more apt question would probably have been along the lines of 'is that what it's like to have family members who don't hate you', but Adam would cut his own tongue out before asking that, even if he does feel like he knows Lance better than he should. It's too personal.]

Well, it wasn't... bad, I guess.

[A glowing review.]

I feel like I should apologize, though.

[If only either of them were more willing to talk they might realize just how strange of an experience it was for both of them, beyond just having siblings.

The last part of what Adam says confuses Lance a bit; he thinks back for something that might warrant an apology and is coming up with nothing.]

What for?

It feels invasive.

[It's hard to explain, especially when it's something Adam can't quite put his finger on. It's just - they knew each other, but they didn't really. Jumping into that level of familiarity feels wrong, especially because it didn't feel wrong, and especially because he still feels it to a far weaker extent.]

I mean, we barely know each other.

That's true, but it's not your fault.

[So he has nothing to apologize for. The last part of what Adam says makes Lance curious, though--]

You don't have to answer, but during the event was your personality similar to what it normally is?

[His own was, with some minor variations; he was more trusting, more confident, less scathing whenever he was angry. But overall, he was very much the same person; if Adam was also, then even with the experiences themselves being fake don't they still know each other pretty well after all?]

More or less, yeah.

[It's strange, thinking back on it now. Adam was still himself - he knows that - but he was less cautious, more open. Less ambitious. He still had goals, but no longer the driving need to reach them. He found it easier to trust people. He was kinder, maybe, more willing to reach out.

Is that the kind of person he would have been if he'd grown up in a normal household?]

Maybe more well-adjusted.

[It doesn't quite come across in text, since Adam doesn't do emojis, but that was meant as something close to a joke.]

[It's actually exactly the sort of joke Lance tends to make, so he not only gets it but finds it amusing enough to respond similarly.]

That makes two of us.

[Although as he types it, he wonders about the reason. He knows his own, of course; he knows what parts of his personality were very affected by the history that didn't exist during the event, and that those line up with some of the changes. But he wonders about the reason for Adam, especially since 'well-adjusted' is vague term but still holds certain connotations particularly when someone uses it to describe themselves.

But he doesn't mention any of that, at least not yet.]

I asked because as fake as the setting and history might've been, much of knowing someone is in understanding who they are.

[And although the memories themselves are faded, and it's not like Lance knows Adam as well now as he did during the event, there's still much more a familiarity there--and reasonably so--than two conversations would warrant.]

You're right.

[Even if they don't actually know each other, Adam certainly feels like he does. And if neither of them are drastically different than what they were in that strange little town, then maybe the familiarity isn't entirely false.

Still, Adam knows very well that there were parts of himself completely hidden there. His magic, certainly. He thinks it must be the same for Lance.]

But that's not all there is. I mean -

[He's not sure how to explain it. An example, maybe.]

I'm deaf in my left ear. Did you know that, there?

[Probably, Adam thinks. He hides it pretty well here, in day-to-day life, but it's not really a secret, and it's a physical disability, not something the gods changed. What he's wondering is what they both thought the reason for it was. Was he born that way? Or was it some kind of accident? He doesn't really remember thinking about it at all. It was just the way things were.]

I think so, now that you bring it up.

[It's one of the details that faded, but now that Adam mentions it it seems vaguely familiar. He can't remember the reason behind it either, though, although he finds it a little interesting it crossed over; it had been kind of hit or miss from Lance in that the lingering effects of a lot of old--and the most recent, from just before arriving--injuries had disappeared, but a few instances such as breaking his arm in an accident involving a tree, had remained.]

I didn't know here, though.

Yeah. I don't really remember why, there. That's just how it was.

[And, well - he's the one who brought it up, it won't serve well as an example if he isn't honest. Besides, it's over and done with and doesn't matter anymore, so it should be something he can talk about, even if it... really doesn't quite feel that way.]

Back home, I lost my hearing on that side when my dad threw me down a flight of stairs. I hit my head.

[And that was just - gone. It's not that Adam misses his past, it was pretty awful overall, it's that without it he can't really say that other person was him. On some levels, sure, but so much of who Adam is is because of where he comes from.]

So it wasn't really me. All of that was gone.

[And his point - which may have gotten a little muddy - is that he's sure it's the same for Lance. They feel like they know each other, but there's so much missing.]

Edited (WOW i definitely forgot to content warn this I am so sorry) 2017-08-08 18:00 (UTC)

[Oh.

Somehow, for some reason, Lance feels like maybe he should've expected this; maybe because of the differences he'd noticed about himself in the event, or maybe because of some sort of subconscious intuition about similarities in his and Adam's personalities. But despite that, it's still a shock in a way, whether because he feels for Adam or because it's always hard for him personally to deal with this sort of thing.

Suddenly it seems like there's a reason they ended up as siblings in the fake world the gods had created, instead of just being random chance.

It's been over twenty years and it's still difficult to talk about, even in text where he can choose exactly what to say and doesn't have to worry about keeping his expression or voice as steady as he might want to. So there's a delay before he replies; not long enough that it would indicate he hadn't seen the message or was purposefully not responding, but long enough it's clear he had to really think about how to reply.

But finally he does, managing to put down words even if he's still not sure they're right; is there really a 'right' in this situation anyway?]

I'm sorry.

[It's simple and just words, but he still means it; while not a specific experience he's had, he can imagine what Adam described well enough. There isn't really anything to say, especially not through text, that is truly enough, but it's worse to say nothing.

But he also knows not to lingers on it too much--there's a delicate line where empathy begins to transition to pity--and the rest of what he has to say will probably be more meaningful anyway.]

There are scars that were gone, for me.

[Maybe because there's no way to have explained them as coming from an accident or other 'normal' incident. But the statement is vague, and so he adds--]

Not just things like the time a coworker accidentally shot me, which just wouldn't make any sense in that setting, but from when I was much younger.

[Still vague, but it's difficult to mention specifics and just saying that much is difficult enough. In context, though, it's probably clear what he means; Adam's not alone in this, and he understands the point he's trying to make as well.]

[I'm sorry is enough. From someone else, it might be too much. Adam is sensitive to pity - overly sensitive, maybe. He's seen it written on people's faces often enough, not always because of his bruises, sometimes just because he slipped up and made it obvious he comes from poverty. He hates it, it's always pricked his pride more than anything, and the wrong I'm sorry from the wrong person in the wrong tone of voice can sit badly with him, even if he knows they don't mean anything by it.

But he knows that isn't the case this time. It's immediately obvious that, in this case, it's - commiseration, if anything.

And Adam isn't sure what to do with that. He's had to explain what's happened to him to people - a judge, the police, his friends - but he's never actually spoken to anyone who's been through something similar. He doesn't want to talk about it, he knows that the memories are probably as painful for Lance as they are for him. But at the same time, he has a lot of questions. Ones he won't ask, but they're there.]

Thank you. It's over now.

[He means that even when he leaves here, even when he goes back, it's over. Adam likes to pretend, to other people, that just getting out fixed things, but of course it didn't. It was bare months before he came to Hadriel that it ended. He's never going to get the hearing in that ear back, and it's going to be a long time before he stops flinching when people move too fast, and even longer before the nightmares and the caution and the fear go away. Never, maybe. But at least he can say that it's over and mean something. He's not in any danger, not from that.]

And - I'm sorry.

[He is sorry that anyone else had to go through that kind of thing. Lance is older, and maybe it's further away, maybe he's more over it than Adam is, but there's no certainty of that. And even if that were the case, Adam can only offer the same sympathy he was given.]

Did you feel like someone different without those scars?

[Adam can't quite feel like that other boy was him, but he also can't help thinking that it might have been a better, more whole version of him. Someone more capable of trust and kindness.]

[He understands well enough what Adam means by 'it's over' and is glad to hear that at least he's out of the situation. It's definitely more complicated than just that part of things, but being out of danger is the first step towards being able to start what can be a lengthy--or even life-long--recovery process.

For Lance, it's been over twenty years now, and some days are still better than others. Here, especially, it's been more difficult than usual, for several varied and complicated reasons.]

Thank you.

[Interestingly enough, he feels almost the opposite as Adam does about himself during the event; the version of him that had existed in that alternate reality was still very close to being him, but... Less, in a way. The core of his personality was the same, but it was almost like that's all there was; it's as if the edges were dulled, with both the good and the bad extremes more mild and tempered. He was less distrusting, less hard on himself about anything and everything, but also less motivated and less determinedly compassionate.]

Not exactly, but I didn't feel completely the same either. Some important things I learned and decisions that I made because of what happened were gone.

[The path he'd chosen--becoming a psychologist, and then later an FBI agent--were heavily influenced by his desire to use what had happened to him for something good.]

Did you?

[He presumes so, or Adam probably wouldn't be asking in the way he is.]

Yes. I didn't exactly think the same way. I was - well, like I said. More well-adjusted.

[He doesn't really know how to put it. Or rather, he does, but he does not want to list all the tiny things that were different, because when you add them all up they are a lot of things that make it obvious how badly his upbringing affected him.

He trusted more easily. He didn't tense up at loud noises. He didn't question his own thoughts, he wasn't as hard on himself. He didn't have a part of his mind always quietly focused on nothing more than survival, even when it wasn't necessary.

He had less ambition, less drive. That part, Adam doesn't like - ambition and stubbornness have always been the one thing he had to hold on to, the one thing keeping his head above water. But he didn't need that, there.]

My decisions were different, too. Back home, I did everything to get out, I worked my ass off, I barely slept. I had three jobs, I was at the top of all my classes, I barely had friends. I didn't have any other choice.

Here, I just - figured I'd make it eventually. I worked, but it wasn't a big deal.

[It's honestly hard to even imagine, now that he's not living it. Adam worked himself to the bone for years at home. When he was in that other town, that imaginary place, he was like - well, a normal person. He had goals, but that bone-deep drive was gone.]

It didn't feel like me. I guess you probably know what I mean.

[Lance does know what Adam means in general, and can guess--although doesn't know for sure--that many of the specific things that were different for Adam were the same things different for him. It's not as though there's a universal reaction to going through the experiences they have, but some are more common than others and considering the similarities in their personalities both during the event and from what he knows of Adam normally, it isn't difficult to come to the conclusion that the ways they were--and are--affected might be mostly the same.

On the motivation thing he can definitely understand and hadn't wanted to bring it up himself out of fear of it being taken the wrong way, but now that Adam has it seems alright to agree.]

I do, yes. I think our situations were different in a lot of ways by that point, but overall it's the same for me; in that version of things, I only had one degree at twenty-nine, and in reality I had four at twenty-one.

[He'd been out of danger much earlier in his life than he gets the impression Adam was, but it hadn't been quite possible for him to believe that was the case for a long time. Even when he'd finally begun to be convinced that his adoptive parents loved and wanted him, he'd still felt the desperate need to prove they hadn't made--and weren't making--a terrible mistake.

He'd been a difficult child and even worse preteen, and his parents had been much older than most and with health problems; dealing with him was surely a nightmare, and although he knows now that that's to be expected and very normal for a child who'd been through what he had, at the time he'd been certain it was only a matter of time before even people as kind as they were became tired of him. Excelling in school and leaving home early served the dual purpose of proving he was worth something, and also removing the need for his parents to deal with him being in their house and all the stress that went along with that.

So it wasn't exactly the same type of pressing motivation Adam had to escape his situation, but it was still a matter of survival to Lance, just in a different way. But not only was that reasoning gone in the event, but he'd chosen an academic way of approaching his field as opposed to the practical and very involved one he'd followed in real life.

There's a short delay before he continues with the rest of his message, because although he thinks he's reading the right information out of Adam's wording he doesn't want to assume, and this piece of things is pretty important.]

You don't have to answer, but I got the impression from what you said that your situation ended only recently. Is that correct?

[He doesn't typically ask these types of question through text, but he's not a therapist right now; he and Adam are on equal footing here on this, and so the rules are somewhat different. It's also easier for Lance to talk about this when it's just words on a screen, and thinks it might be for Adam too.]

[It is easier to talk about it over text. The fact is, Adam hasn't really talked about it - not at all. His friends from home already knew, they were there while it happens, sometimes quite literally. He never had to explain anything to them, though he probably should, since there are a lot of thing they never knew.

And here, there's been no need to. A couple people have figured it out here and there, thanks to the events this place throws at them regularly, but Sharon's the only one still around, and it's not like he's ever sat her down and explained the details. It's not like he's ever sat anyone down and explained the details, except the police. And even that was - well, glossed over. A summary.

But he doesn't intend to change that anytime soon. A summary is good enough, and mostly impersonal. He doubts Lance wants to hear any gritty details, either.]

About four months before I came here.

[And it's been two years that he's been here, and that's helped, but - well, it's also a little like living in stasis. When he goes back, he knows it'll be like none of this ever happened.]

A few weeks before I turned eighteen.

[It's shameful, admitting that. He should have gotten out a long time before. He blames himself for that a lot, even though he also remembers the feeling of being trapped, of not having a choice, of being afraid to ruin the only life he knew. But in the end, he can only blame himself. Adam was never waiting to be rescued, he was only too afraid to walk away on his own.]

It was a big mess. But I think it probably always is.

[Lance has spoken about it more, probably, than Adam has, although the vast majority of that was during counseling through his childhood years. As a teenager, and especially as an adult, he almost never says anything; it's partially because he doesn't want people knowing, but also partially because it's just too difficult. Even with his friends who are aware of what happened, he's never actually spoken with them about it beyond vague allusions.

But Adam is right in that he isn't asking for details, not just because it would be incredibly insensitive but because Lance doesn't think he could handle hearing much of them. There are several reasons he chose not to work with children, or even teenagers, and this is one of them; he can't be objective or helpful in a professional capacity when he isn't capable of keeping the required distance from the subject.

What little Adam does tell him is difficult enough to hear, although not just due to his own experiences.]

I'm sorry. I can't imagine.

[He'd never been in a particularly good foster home, but the one that had been the very worst had only lasted eighteen months and that had still been enough to scar him for life, both mentally and physically. Although he doesn't know for sure--and won't ask--exactly when things started for Adam, he has the impression from everything so far that it's probably been a long time.]

Yes, it is always a mess. At least in every case I know of.

[He feels it's important to make sure Adam knows that's the case; nothing about this, no matter how different the situations or details, is ever simple or clear.

After that, Lance hesitates, not sure exactly what more to say; part of him feels like he should offer his own answer to the question he asked of Adam, just to be fair, but the rest of him balks at saying even that much. There's something a lot more important that he should probably make clear, anyway.]

And although I can't offer professional help in this situation, if you ever want to talk or are just having one of the more difficult days and need a reminder that you're not alone, you can always message me.

[Because feeling alone is all too common, especially when you've gone through something that none of your friends understand or, alternatively, understand but can't bring themselves to talk about either.]

[It's better, he thinks, if that's true. If Lance can't imagine, that means he went through - well, something else, at least. More than anything, Adam doesn't want anyone else to go through the same things he did. He doesn't allow himself to indulge in self-pity if he can help it, and he knows there are people in the world who had far worse childhoods. But still. It was bad. He doesn't want that for anyone else.]

Thank you. I don't know if I will. It's hard for me.

[He's being honest, which is significant. In most cases, Adam would politely thank someone for an offer like that and then distance himself and never speak of it again. It's easier that way. He's doing better than he once was, and he has people he trusts here, but even so it isn't easy for him to reach out for help when he needs it. That's always been difficult.]

But - I really appreciate it.

[Even if accepting an offer like that is difficult for Adam, he can appreciate what it takes to offer it, especially for someone who's been through something similar. He's sure this can't be easy for Lance to talk about, he's sure it must be bringing up bad memories. They'll probably both sleep poorly tonight. So it means something that he's offering anyway.]

It seems stupid to offer the same. I'm not really in any position to help anyone, I don't think. But I can listen if you ever need to talk.

[It is the least he can offer. And, in some ways, he's curious. It's an awful subject for them both, but Adam has never really spoken to someone who's been through anything similar. He has friends with trauma (pretty much all of them, here and at home), but nothing like what he grew up with.]

[Likewise, Lance understands it probably takes a lot for Adam to make the same offer in return, and he also gets that Adam's first response is very honest; it's the same answer Lance wants to give himself. Talking, even after so much time and even to someone he knows wouldn't judge, is difficult.

And, of course, there's the matter of that even though it'd be good for them both in the long run, in the short term bringing everything back up--for themselves, and for each other--is a real concern. Giving them both a little time to think over things is probably for the best.]

It isn't stupid, and thank you. I can't say I'm sure I'll take you up on it either, but maybe in the future.

[And just knowing the option is there means a lot.

But this conversation has been a lot more mentally and emotionally exhausting than he expected, and he imagines it's the same for Adam, so this seems like a good place to leave things for now.]

I should let you get back to whatever you were doing before I interrupted you.

I should too. I'm sure you've got a lot of stuff to do.

[It doesn't really matter if that's true or not - Adam thinks that right now they both want an easy exit. It's not that this conversation was bad, it's not that he doesn't like Lance or even that he doesn't trust him. It's just - a lot. A lot of personal stuff, and Adam thinks it's probably the same for both of them.

It isn't easy to talk about these things. It isn't easy to admit what has happened, and it isn't easy to sympathize. Maybe it should be, but Adam doesn't think that kind of thing is ever effortless.

Despite that, simply being acknowledged helps in a strange way. Adam went through most of his life dealing with things on his own, focusing all his energy on survival, and even when he found people who did care for him, they didn't come from the same place. In some ways, it was impossible for them to understand, no matter how much they were there for him. This is different.

Different, but a lot to deal with, especially for Adam, who's only recently removed from the situation. He probably ought to see a therapist, someday, but that isn't an option here and likely won't be anytime soon at home. So he copes however he can. It usually works out.]

Thank you.

[He wishes he could offer to help professionally, because therapy is definitely important in this situation, but he can't; not only has he told Adam too much about his own experiences for it to be ethical to provide counseling, but Lance is also aware of his own limitations. He knows he wouldn't be capable of being objective, and even more than that he doesn't think he'd be able to handle the subject in general, let alone do so with the required level of professional distance.

But even though that isn't an option, there are other ways to help, and hopefully that'll be possible at some point in the future. Right now, though, he's glad Adam seems to understand the need to bow out of the conversation.]

I'll talk to you later then, and let me know if you need anything, alright?

[Related to this, or otherwise; maybe it's just holdover from the event, or because of this conversation, or both, but he feels like he should look out for Adam as much as he can.]

I will, so long as you do the same.

[In another context it might feel odd to say that - and truthfully, it does a bit here, too. Lance is an adult, he seems to have his life together, he seems competent and intelligent. Adam may be technically an adult - he certainly passed his twentieth birthday a few months back, if his reckoning of time here is right - but he rarely feels like one.

In reality, of course, he is quite a bit more mature than many his age. He's had to deal with more than his share of difficulties, and most of it all on his own. Until recently, anyway. So he supposes it isn't so odd to offer what help he can give in return, whether it ends up being something about the city or something else entirely. He can do that much, at least. Make himself useful.]

Take care.

ic inbox [hadriel]

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