NOCTIUM IC INBOX

[disrupts]

« nomad »
TEXT ✧ AUDIO ✧ VIDEO ✧ ACTION
V ✦ CYBERPUNK 2077

RESIDENCE ✦ Chez Eurodyne, Silverhand, Strife & V

GEMBOND ✦ Sapphire
"This is V. 'pparently 'm busy right now so leave a message."


INFO ✧ PERMISSIONS ✧ KINKLIST

Comments

action; @secondconflict

[disrupts]

( ooc: continued from here! )

[ Sliding into the space Kerry affords him is easy, even though his focus is split now between the growing tightness in his pants and the way his tongue presses against the man's lips. He wants to lick into Kerry's mouth, bold and hungry.

The hand at Kerry's side drops down further, fingers grasp at his leg to guide it upward and open his hips up. He's aching to be inside Kerry, to feel the tight channel of warmth to thrust inside of, but he loves this too. Foreplay because it feels just as good to be up close and personal with the man, whole body alight with anticipation. Anticipation which is only magnified under the strength of their bond, their synchrony. ]

[secondconflict]

[Throughout their conversation since V got home, Kerry has felt exposed in ways that mean more to him than naked skin. The idea that after sharing so much of himself he'd open himself up to V and invite him in only makes so much sense.

His legs open to V without hesitation. He already feels like a horny teenager with V, but it's so much worse with Synchrony. That connection acts like a loop, as he senses V's desire to him as much as his own desire for V.]

action; @bodyoftheseus

[disrupts]

( from here )


[ Without knowing this other version of himself, he doesn't know for sure what that's supposed to mean. Not like he'd been all that much of a fan of Johnny to start with, but things change. And after 50 years locked up in a digital prison, maybe he'd be pissed too. Not that it matters because Johnny's gone and V feels like any chance at something even close to closure is out of reach. ]

Wasn't my favorite thing he tried.

[ What happens next is an uncontrolled burst of pain that blossoms across his right temple, forcing him to drop his gaze and take a second to just breathe. Somewhere there's a joke, and eventually he presses it out with a hoarse voice. ]

's what I get for thinkin' too hard.

Last memory I got... rooftop at Misty's. Talkin' with Johnny. Agreeing that it was gonna be him and Rogue goin' to 'saka Tower. Took the pill... that's it. That's all I got. Don't got anything from Mikoshi, or after.

[ Kerry'd had to fill him in on the rest. He scratches absently at the back of his head, right under the knot of a bandana he found. Or it might've been a pocket square, once upon a time. He doesn't know but he liked the pattern and he feels all sorts'a naked without one. ]

So - you... didn't go back to your body?

[bodyoftheseus]

[ There were times that he'd wished Johnny had managed to kill him, but only when he got down by himself with a little too much to drink and he found himself spending a little too much time in the space between thoughts, the time when the silence was deafening.

As the pain blooms over V's features he felt himself sag. He could remember the relic malfunctions that caused him to stumble, the coughing fits that took the air out of his lungs. He doesn't crack a smile at the joke, but there's a concern in his eyes. The effects of the relic weren't something he'd wish on even the worst of the street crowd and seeing someone else mirroring his own experience even on some level made him uncomfortable. He'd feel awful about the memory loss too, but... That was honestly a mercy. Not losing his memories with Kerry, no, but losing Mikoshi... His stomach twisted at the though.

There's recognition as V quickly goes over what happened, a small nod. ]

Maybe missin' Mikoshi's a blessing. The after, though...

[ There's an apologetic look on his face. He has a faint idea of what V's life had been after Mikoshi and it was easy to disregard the relic to make out as heaven: how couldn't he when it was months spent with Kerry?

He was about to say something more, but the question hit him like a bullet to the chest and he immediately closed off: his body grew tense, his jaw set, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands clenched into fists. He could still hear Kerry's words in his ears about the happiest six months he'd ever lived being with the man before him; knowing what he'd passed up and remembering who he stood before hurt, and being angry was easier than being hurt. ]

No. I did not.

[ He looks back to V, a warning very clearly on his face. This was not something he wished to talk about and he likely would not entertain at this time. ]

I'm no NetWatch elite, but I can keep 'em on their toes. Pretty dangerous with code. Might be able to help with your head, pending what's wrong after bein' dumped here. Can't reverse the damage, but if software's still runnin' rampant? Might be able to stop it.

action; @outofthepast

[disrupts]

( From here! )

[ He gets that feeling; mostly that this isn't a good kind of turns of events from that rooftop he hazily remembers. At least with the onset of that crystalizing thought he realizes he's not moving nearly fast enough. There's something apologetic that settles across his features, and something even more desperately grateful there too.

This choom's saving his ass, no two ways about it, and if they survive this fucked up whatever this is, gonna have to buy him a drink or ten. ]

Boston, yeah. Never been there myself. Diamond City... sounds preem.

[ Definitely garners a real kind of sparkling mental image. The antithesis of Night City. 'course V's cynicism has been carefully tended by a certain rockerboy friend, and there's part of him that thinks it's probably not the beacon of clean, nova city living the name might suggest. ]

Uh, Night City. 's uh, California. Wasn't what I was expectin' in a lotta ways.

[ But that's a long story, likely one best saved for a day where he's not working hard to just keep a pace that isn't comparable to a snail. ]

What's Diamond City like?

[outofthepast]

Ahh, California. Nice weather out there. [The real Nick had been there on vacation once. He'd say so, but it feels disingenuous to actually claim memories that he knew full and well didn't belong to him.] Must be a new city, though, or a different version of California. I've never heard of it before.

[The small talk is doing some good, it seems. The less they dwell on how mega-dead V's going to be if they take too long, the better.]

I, ah... I expect the name's a bit misleading, and most folks'd find it a real dump. Built in the ruins of Fenway Park. Lots of people, running water, fairly reliable power, nice big walls and a security force. But that's all damn luxurious, comparatively. It's the safest place in the Commonwealth by far. And it's home.

[A beat.] Place I'm from is a bit of a mess, to say the least. Hopefully, yours is much nicer.

un: silverhand

[engrams]

Find work yet, Mr. Merc?

un: nomad

[disrupts]

Don't think I'm ever gonna get used to getting texts on the holo... phone... whatever... from you

Haven't been looking. Why'd you ask?

action

[secondconflict]

[It's pretty clear that V isn't feeling well. Clear enough that even Kerry can pick up on it. At first, he doesn't try to pry but he's spent so much time the last few months worrying about V that he can't help but keep it up now.

After a moment he shifts closer.]

Hangin' in there all right?

[He wonders if it's a headache or something else.]

[disrupts]

[ Gaze drawn from the spot it's fixated on over at the wall, V visibly resurfaces from wherever his mind's been. Like waking up from a nightmare with the firm belief that he shouldn't feel bad at all. What's he got to complain about here? He's gotten people he cares about back from the clutches of fucking death.

The weak smile is accompanied by a hand that rests against Kerry's side like it's an automatic thing. V can't help the fact that he wants to touch Kerry whenever and however he can. ]

Yeah. Just thinkin' 'bout... everything.

covfefe ; text

[bodyoftheseus]

Hey. We were gonna get some coffee sometime. My schedule's clear - want to go do that? Sorry for being all spontaneous

text;

[disrupts]

I never tell ya spontaneity's my middle name?

Coffee sounds nova. Where we goin?

un: strife

[coraza]

johnny said you got into a fight.

[and thrown in jail???]

you good?

[disrupts]

Yeah I'm fine, thanks for asking choom.

Johnny told ya what happened?

[ He's hoping maybe not everything; getting caught on a simple klep job's not exactly been his finest merc moment. ]

april event;

[engrams]

[There’s something about Johnny’s rebel spirit that can’t be squashed, can’t be put out like a low-burning flame. Even if his insides have been mottled with a contagion of spores, prying through his skin in a patchy cluster of flowers, even as he’s drawn towards the water towards something beckoning him there, he does it with a frown. As though his sensibilities are utterly offended by the idea of being beckoned anywhere, like a part of him always wants to dig his heels in the sand when he’s being told what to do. Johnny Silverhand doesn’t like being told what to do, allergic to authority as he is.

But even his stubborn willpower, begrudging as it may be, can’t override the infection, the call of something waiting for him in that deep unseen. He moves like a man who’s barely acceded, but moves all the same — frowning as he steps into the water, brows at a slant as it rises up, up, eventually to his waist, eventually threatening to submerge himself completely if he continues this route; the lake’s easy descent, after all, will soon become a steep drop into nothing but cold murkiness, the perfect trap for the most unsuspecting.]

The hell is it-? [He mutters, to no one. To nothing. Or to something, drawing him out.] The hell do you want?

[A question lost in the swelling sigh of the water lapping all around him, as though tasting whether or not he’d be something worth gobbling up. Johnny doesn’t notice the splashing sounds from behind him — that, or he pays it no mind.]

[disrupts]

[ With adventure on the horizon, V'd taken to exploring the islands with the same level of excitement as he approached any new place. After being stuck in Night City for as long as he was, going back to roots that are steeped in nomad history feels beyond energizing. At this point he's dragged anybody who'll let him tug them into the first available adventure he can find.

Except people had started to go missing, and by the time that information has filtered through, a low simmering of 'got a bad feeling 'bout this' had cut in deep.

It's like a fresh memory superimposed over an old one; the way the storm had swallowed up any level of calm he possessed and replaced it with panic.

Lacking any idea about if this is luck or something else, he'd caught sight of Johnny on his way back from fishing out a few other folks from the water. And there was something inside of him so sure that the undeniable urge everybody else had fallen prey to wouldn't affect Johnny. Not Johnny fuckin' Silverhand.

Ice colder than even he's got defenses against shoots through his veins at the creeping realization he's wrong; the confirmation that Johnny's not wading in to hook somebody else out. Johnny's walking right into the water because he's- ]

Johnny!

[ The man already seems way too deep to turn around, and V's journey through the water after him isn't quiet and it's not stealth. Whatever the fuck's in the water, to V it feels like trying to wade through wet cement. For all his efforts to advance into the water Johnny seems like he's just pulling further away up ahead of him. ]

Don't listen to it-- whatever's tellin' ya to keep walkin'-- it's lying, Johnny. Fuckin' fight it.

voice; un: champioff. Early May

[wolfehawke]

[ It's not been all that long since Adalwolfe arrived, but considering he's having a little trouble with Synchrony, he's had the thought that perhaps he should take on a job, if not for money than at least to give him something else to think about. To that end, he's decided to source one of the few people he knows has been here for awhile and might be able to point him in a good direction.

He hopes V won't mind. After all, he was incredibly nice on their first meeting, and usually off worlders all stick together in places like this. ]

Hey V, it's Hawke. I was wondering if you knew anywhere that was potentially hiring.

audio; un: nomad

[disrupts]

Hey choom, how's ya head?

[ Maybe Hawke can hear the teasing grin that accompanies the question. Either way, V's glad to hear from the man. Clearly he made it home safely after being as buzzed as he was. ]

Uh, heard some folks're gettin' jobs in city hall? Depends what you wanna do. What type o' work ya lookin' for?

text;

[engrams]

[So. How to go about this — not like Johnny hasn’t played the scenario over in his mind again and again. But with V as unpredictable as he is, he might not even get a reply; this is, as they say, a leap of faith.

A slightly disingenuous one, but one has to do what needs to be done.]

Hey V, before you fucking remember to block this ID, read it first.

Got something for you. Think you’ll like it. And don’t worry, it doesn’t come with a lecture. Figure there’s no point in that any more.

[disrupts]

[ Days have passed since he left Johnny for dust, but V can't quite grasp how many. Time's a blur; a too-slow too-fast ride with no option to get the fuck off or take in the view with a rhythm that makes any sense to him.

Going back to the house has been out of the question, and where it might have been abject shame at how he's behaved any other time, for now it's all about protection. Not anybody else's, just his own. Some ill-advised rebellion against people he thinks are doing him wrong. He's so convinced, so fully persuaded that he has to keep his guard up around people who want him to change.

The nightmares don't get any better, and so V ends up in a cycle. Passing out from exhaustion in the boarded up, half crumbled to rubble small warehouse on the outskirts of town. Used to be a shoe factory, or something. Old, singular shoes alone; lost their pair, their other half.

He wakes up in a panicked sweat more often than not, the old mattress he's been sleeping on a public health hazard and now soaked from his tossing and turning. Bailing from the building always comes next, like he's trying to run away from those dreams like they'll stay put, chained to that mattress. They never do. It's a wash, rinse, repeat of bar fights; some he wins, some never get started... some he limps back to that mattress from.

When a message arrives, he's just gotten back to the shitty, stale factory that might decide to collapse any moment. He's strung out and fighting the very real possibility that one of these days he might not even make it back here. It's impatient, pent up fear that has him tapping out a response without thinking. ]

Told you to fuck off

[ And then he sends his device flying across what probably used to be some middle manager's office once upon a time. A time before some bum dragged a mattress into a condemned building and V evicted whoever else had been here before. Like this he's got his intimidation tactics down to a fucking art form.

If Johnny does manage to track the location of V's device, V won't be around when he arrives. Though it won't be long until he is, the quick trip out a fucking necessity when his stomach starts yelling that it's been empty for too long. He definitely looks like he's been sleeping rough, like he hasn't really been sleeping at all, actually. Like he's been fighting some long, drawn out war with no end in sight. And he definitely won't have noticed any visitors despite his highly anxious state. ]

july event; action!

[engrams]

[Part of him thinks he should be having a mental breakdown—or maybe he’s in the middle of one, hell if he knows—all things considered. Sane people, as far as he can tell, don’t go from Earth-dwelling to suddenly being on an alien planet stuffed with gem-natives and too-many-kids running around without blaming it on some manner of mental faculty gone awry. This is like something out of a dream, or a hallucination belonging to someone skezzed out of their mind, but it’s too fucking realistic, and maybe that’s the weirdest part.

Maybe his freak-out moment is inbound, just trying to find a way to get around Robert’s shored-up wall of utter disorientation and bafflement, prowling around like a predator looking for cracks in the amor. Or maybe life’s just been in too much of a limbo state, that even a bump in the road shaped like a mountain is welcome — something interesting, at least, and nothing he would’ve guessed at for himself. He’ll sweat the finer, anxiety-ridden details of ever seeing home again, or how the hell he’s supposed to live here all by himself when distractions aren’t swirling all around him. It’ll catch up, anyway.

Right now, noise washes over him like a thick blanket. It’s musical noise, too, his favorite kind, manifesting as entertainment in the midst of the busy and buzzing plaza square. A group of street performers sing their hearts out for the passing crowd; they’re good enough that a throng of people have formed a semi-circle to watch them play. Robert thinks all that’s missing is an open guitar case to catch tips like flies in a spider-web, but it doesn’t look like people here carry much in the way of pocket change.

Undeterred by speaking to a complete stranger, he pipes up just to question the guy next to him—]

Hey, they get paid playin’ that stuff, right? [Somehow? Surely.] I could do somethin’ like that.

[disrupts]

[ If questioned on it, V would resort to lying in order to pass off his proximity to Johnny as pure coincidence. Wound back a few blocks, he'd spotted the man walking somewhere and has been tailing him ever since. Thing is, without knowing there's something fucked up going on he's almost certain he still would have recognized the not-so-old not-so-rockerboy rockerboy. Whether that's true or not, they'll probably never know.

He does know something fucked up has happened though; Ker looks like he's been pulled fresh out of one of Johnny's memories and has no idea who he is.

What V does know is that he's been staring, not exactly a subtle kind of stake out, and right as he's about to go pat Johnny on the shoulder, to strike up some kind of conversation to figure out what's up, Johnny does that for him.

It leaves him with his hand hanging awkwardly in the air, lips parting because he knows he should say something but there's nothing that sounds right in his head. ]

Uh. Yeah? Maybe.

[ Smooth. So smooth that he finally tears his eyes away from the familiar face without all the experience that usually goes with it and has the good grace to shake his head at himself. V doesn't know where the curiosity ends and the concern starts; it's all one big ball of what the fuck? ]

Johnny?

Dog-Eared Pages and Idle Musings

[bodyoftheseus]

For dog-eared pages, highlighted or underlined passages, and scribbles in the margins.

[bodyoftheseus]

Dear Life
by Maya C Popa

I can’t undo all I have done unto myself,
what I have let an appetite for love do to me.

I have wanted all the world, its beauties
and its injuries; some days,
I think that is punishment enough.

Often, I received more than I’d asked,

which is how this works—you fish in open water
ready to be wounded on what you reel in.

Throwing it back was a nightmare.
Throwing it back and seeing my own face

as it disappeared into the dark water.

Catching my tongue suddenly on metal,
spitting the hook into my open palm.

Dear life: I feel that hook today most keenly.

Would you loosen the line—you’ll listen

if I ask you,

if you are the sort of life I think you are.

textt; probably sometime near the start of august tbh

[bodyoftheseus]

Hey choom, just got myself two new presents. What those gonk influencers from home called self-care or whatever bullshit.

[ Attached are two images: that of a car and of a panther-like cat that had too many legs and strange appendages. The picture of the cat was actually pretty cute: it was nose to nose with Nibbles, the two greeting each other. ]

[disrupts]

Know plenty of gonks who'd say otherwise but self care's a real thing and I'm glad you're doin it

[ There's a pause between the first message and the second, long enough for a merc to open up the attachments and get distracted in very different ways. ]

Fuck, that Caliburn's doing things to me

The fuck's the big cat thing though? You sure Nibbles ain't gonna get swallowed?