milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Jim has ventured down only rarely since his birthday, and only then because there's a party on. He is liking Bar's decision to paint his face for the duration! It's fun!

And then he comes to the bar for lunch. His gentle internal wondering of why Sherlock wasn't in bed when he woke up this morning is answered when he's presented with a note.

Jim goes very still. He remains very still for a long time, the paper crumpling evvvvvvvver so slowly in his fingers, creases cracking like ice dropped into water. He's glad of the face paint for a whole different reason, because oh, he's proud of Sherlock, he's proud of him for this, but he's going to fucking kill him as well, and do it properly this time. The game plays on. Yes. Yes, it does, and thank God, because at least this proves they really will never be ordinary.

So he laughs. Loudly, and with a manic edge he doesn't even try to hide. Well done, Sherlock. You even left the note in the bar, rather than somewhere private. Well, then it deserves a public reaction. Jim shuts up and shakes his head, almost fond. He straightens his pristine jacket, and smooths his hair back.

Then he turns and picks up the nearest chair, swings it over his head and smashes it to pieces on the floor. He smashes it until he's left with nothing but a leg, which spins out from his hand across the room, whipping through the air.

Sorry if it bounces off you?

[OOC: Birthday link is lots of NSFW, natch. And it's probably obvious, but Jim's a tad erratic in this EP and may be prone to outbursts.)

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X considers this, standing statue-still for a few long moments.

Then --

"I will ask once. It is not a promise."

Beat.

"What do you want? Besides not to be bored."

Jim pops his jaw, eyes boring into hers. Then he cracks his neck to the side.

He doesn't know. Well, he does. He wants Sherlock to walk back in, so he can make it clear to him just how not okay this behaviour is. But X can't provide that.

'Something new.'

X considers, brow furrowing very slightly.

Hmm.

"You have been to space? Before."

A pause.

"Not in a ship."

'Of course not.'

On Earth? When does anything good ever happen on Earth?

Edited 2016-10-31 17:27 (UTC)

There are stars in her eyes and --

Is that her skin and hair turning the blue at the heart of a flame?

(The answer is yes.)

"Here."

X holds out her hand.

He does not know what this means, but there are literal stars in her eyes and there's no way he's not going to give this a go.

he takes her hand.

Where this goes first is that they become very, very, very small.

Welcome to something like the microverse, Jim Moriarty.

(It makes walking between atoms much easier. Sort of. And thus slipping between the various pieces of the Milliways protective shield and inescapable cyclical time state a lot easier, as well.)

*Mun makes no promises about the accuracy of the microverse use here, because ahahahaha no.

'...X.'

What the. Actual. Fuck.

"Captain Universe is more accurate," X corrects. "When we are like this."

Beat.

"You wanted something new."

And this something new will really not go far toward helping him break whatever keeps Milliways safe. Most people can't bypass atoms. And atomic forces.

'Do I have to salute?'

He's not going to salute. He's also properly distracted from his mood, and she might have just become his second favourite person in the multiverse. The bar just...went, and okay, realising he was suddenly microscopic was weird and briefly awful, but now the shield is gone, and there's only...space.

'What happens if I let go of your hand?'

"You will stop feeling like there is gravity."

A pause.

"Free-fall is not always bad."

What?

"Do not salute. We are not that kind of Captain."

To their left, somewhere, there is a star going nova.

To their right, again somewhere, is a star almost done with being eaten by a neighboring black hole. Everywhere else there is either emptiness, dark matter, or the last exploding remnants of a dying universe.

Shockingly.

Free-fall is supposed to be a lot of fun. Maybe some other day.

Jim's seen telescopic images of things like this, or reproductions of what astronomers think it must look like, but no one - of course - from his world has ever seen anything like this. For once, he's close to speechless.

'Take me closer.'

He is not in least bit bothered by having his relative size and significance in the universe being so abjectly pointed out to him. He just wants a better view of the universe dying.

Since his directions are imprecise, X directs them toward the black hole consuming the gases of the almost-dead star.

Because it's pretty great to see a Schwarzschild radius up close. Or not-see, given that no light can escape from such a thing.

Still.

"Entropy," X observes, very carefully, "is interesting."

'Interesting.'

He can't take his eyes off it, numbers running without pause behind his eyes but mainly just enjoying it. Genuine enjoyment, which is something he rarely feels, and it's so strong he can't even recognise it as such. He's too busy taking in what he sees.

'In what way?'

He'd choose a better word than that to describe it. 'Inevitable', perhaps.

"People are afraid of it."

People are weird.

"But it is just disorder."

A pause.

"I like observing the patterns."

'Don't depress me.'

The fact that is, or can be, any order in chaos whatsoever - depressing. He prefers the idea of true disorder, where nothing can be predicted. But perhaps he likes the idea because he knows it's unattainable; there is no such thing as absolute chaos. Not on Earth, anyway.

'People are afraid of literally everything. They're pointless.'

His voice has lost its edge though. He's softened by wonder, and happy to get lost in it.

"We are not very good at being afraid."

It's true.

"Here. The nova is close."

Time to drift toward that dying star, instead. Perhaps closer to the heart, where fusion of hydrogen into helium and heavier atoms is still feebly occurring.

"You will not have to worry about radiation."

Captain Universe can handle it. The incredible heat, too.

'Why are you referring to yourself as 'we'?'

He doesn't really care. There's nothing more interesting than what's happening before his eyes right now. Radiation is the last thing on his mind.

He finds himself willing the nova on, mentally pushing the dying star into its final throes. It'll be a sight worth seeing, and he doesn't think that about many things.

"Because it is accurate. Right now."

The star's core does what stars going nova do, and a vast pulse of energy slams out from it and into the surrounding universe.

If there were any planet remnants, or comets, or asteroids in the vicinity, they certainly no longer exist now.

Only X and Moriarty are here, floating in the vast abyss of space. Untouched.

Edited 2016-10-31 19:23 (UTC)

Maybe he doesn't feel any trepidation because she - they? - clearly doesn't. Everything is obviously safe, even if it shouldn't be, even as the energy pulses out and he finds himself wanting to feel it. But there's nothing but a weird detachment as it passes them by, and he's frustrated, as he always is, at the feeling of never quite being attached to anything that happens around him.

But he likes the destruction left in its wake. That makes him smile. A great swathe of nothing, and it's satisfying in the extreme.

'Closer,' he says, and nods towards the end of everything.

He is welcome to request the ability to fry himself while at the same time experiencing explosive decompression.

Or he can wish to jump into one of any innumerable black holes in this quadrant of space.

(X and the Uni-power will deny him, but still. He can ask.)

"You know it is like this. But with less to see. Matter is stretched. There. And thinning."

But she brings him closer, anyway.

The abyss takes all kinds.

It should be the only quadrant of space left, if it's the end of everything, but it doesn't matter, he won't ask. Not yet. Maybe not ever. It all depends.

He just nods when she speaks but he knows she'll let him see. And he stays silent as he watches, soaking it in, letting it put things back into perspective. It's just an elaborate brain-reset really, but it's impressive and beautiful, and he's glad to be out here. Even he can feel awe in the face of this.

X just floats in the nothingness beside him, watching every last bit of the end.

Literally every last bit.

And she waits, or so it seems, for Jim to be done.

Jim will never be done with this. He has so many questions, and very little of what he's watching makes any astronomical sense. He doesn't think she'll know the answers though, so he just enjoys it for what it is; a catalogue of riddles that he might now have time to unravel, and a damn good light show.

Eventually, he looks over at her. They can leave if she wants. Or stay. Here is better than back in there, but she doesn't need this like he does.

Not like he does, no.

And yet --

They may both remain out here for some time.

(And after this, ice cream. With sprinkles.)

Edited 2016-10-31 21:50 (UTC)

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