it's fine. so far, he hasn't followed me here. [ Possibly because intelligent psychopaths can't dream. Who knows. Will's reflexive with his sharing trust, here - doesn't even overthink telling Ben something so direct until after he's done it. His ears ring like a gun just went off.
...He'll just. Keep replying like he didn't just overshare in the vaguest way possible, then. ] Newt's your neighbor? i've met him. [ In increasingly unlikely and terrible circumstances, to be specific.
Will finds there's a curiosity where there'd usually be a wall. He wants to ask what isn't right about your living situation? but can't quite manage it. He doesn't even make attempts and delete them - just stares at his screen. Looks away. Stares again.
Moves on, temporarily, with it still gnawing at him. ]
this house i'm in isn't what i used to live in, back home, but it's close. close enough that it should probably offend me instead of soothe; like someone knew exactly what i'd want.
but it does soothe. even with the writing on the door.
[ Here goes nothing: ] you don't have that anywhere?
if this were a physical scene occurring, Ben would be tip toeing backward away from this remark. he's seen the glimmer in the bottom of the pond, but he knows better than to go diving into depths he doesn't know very well. )
Have you? I'm not surprised, it's a small town.
Well, I awoke in Newt's home originally, though I found out later my key didn't work for his door, but the next house over. Can't say either situation really echoes like what I refer to as 'home.'
Could just be because I'm without the cat. Or because the house is haunted. Could be both.
But as for me, here? Can't really say that I've found my 'happy place' just yet. Not sure how my odds look.
[ 'Without the cat'. And with three words, Ben's managed to grasp exactly the biggest problem Will has with this new place - aside from the obvious pitfalls of being a dreamscape that he's not able to leave. ] you didn't strike me as the type to go and buy a cat.
i'm trying to convince myself my dogs are all better off home, instead of here. i think i've almost managed it.
[ Is this...a portion of a conversation that isn't all doom and gloom and work-focused? How did this happen? Oh, wait, one second: ] sorry, did you say your house is haunted?
Don't start questioning that intuition of yours. A cat went out and decided to move in with me one day. Can't say I strictly hated the choice, especially not in retrospect. ( good things just happen at Ben without forewarning, and by no other means. )
Dogs? How many? And for all we know, we could be lying in bed in one whole night's sleep, missing nary a thing, and they haven't noticed anything themselves. ( Ben does not self-delude, but after a month of being here? he's gripping onto the things that comfort him the most. )
Ah, yes. Haunted. Genuinely...that. I've been told the poltergeists are usually rather peaceful, but...either this one doesn't like me in particular, or, they're clumsy. ( for him? it could be anyone's guess. )
must have been a nice house. [ If it was half as neat as Ben's townhouse apartment, Will imagines that accommodating a cat took some...logistics. And— here it is, the reasonable question that Will always feels the barest hesitance over answering. ]
seven. i had a big yard. [ As if that remotely explains seven dogs. ] i can only hope that that's the case, or my colleague took it on herself to watch them again.
poltergeists. now i'm even more relieved i ended up with my assigned housing as close to in the middle of nowhere as it gets, here.
It was a flat on the third floor, thus the real mystery is how she got into my home. ( dunno, Ben, maybe it's exactly as Will just said? what cat bothers to break into a third. story apartment and live with you? )
...Seven. Wow. I suppose I can see you as a dog person. Yours must be a nice house too, then. ( by which he means, roomy enough? Will says he can't imagine Ben being the sort to go out and get a cat, but Ben has to wonder how a guy ends up with over half a dozen dogs.
yeah, Ben sort of expected that level of disbelief. he had it himself. )
Well, where I'm from, I could answer 'yes' with some measure of certainty. Here, I'm not so sure. I think this place is haunted purely on principle.
For now, it's just keep calm and carry on...and replace my glassware on a semi-regular basis.
I just wish it would stop knocking into doors. ( he didn't say slam doors, which is a point to be made. )
they climb. and they're stubborn. [ Actually, based on brief, shallow encounters...this seems like a fair match for one Benedict Dearborn.
('Benny', supplies some raw part of Will's memory. He flinches, squeezes the phone too hard.) ]
it was.
i didn't go out and buy mine, either. the dogs, i mean. [ Obviously, Will bought...his house...... ]
so demons and poltergeists were as real of pests as ticks and mosquitoes? [ A connection occurs to Will, here. ] did you end up becoming an exterminator?
( all right, Ben has to laugh. check mate, apparently. it might sound argumentative, on this topic of Cherish moving in with him, but it doesn't cut or scathe. )
Your dogs just show up too? En masse, or gradually? ( Ben asks, slightly riding the wave of the unintended amusement. )
As real as, but far less obvious. ( if it makes Will feel better (or maybe it won't??) that supernatural phenomenon is not an prominent threat, even for him and his world. ) I suppose if you could call me nothing else, exterminator is the closest name for it.
gradually. sometimes they show up. sometimes i offer to foster for the nearby shelter and then they don't leave.
so you're a world religions professor who also banishes supernatural creatures. quite a theme. [ And having seen what he did...Will can't really blame him. ]
That's lovely, really. ( considering how Ben came so close to becoming a stray once, himself, one could say that hits close to home for him.
what comes next is almost too easy to give out, and comes to an extent that Ben pauses to question — is Will ready for this much of a fragment of his backstory?
well, Will did get quite a lot of that before, and...he's stuck around since, hasn't he? )
My uncle finally taught me about demonology some time after the adoption became legal. I'd spent months in counseling not having really understood what had happened, and at first, he thought it would be best to keep it that way. Eventually, after the trauma exacerbated my compulsive disorder and robbed me of basic functionality, he wondered if explaining it all to me would help.
The rest is more or less history. Decided I wanted to make a life out of it. Nearly went to seminary school, too.
I know you might be imagining me in a white collar now, and if you are, I won't blame you for laughing.
[ Will points out facts in a direction that he knows is sensitive, and in return he gets...honesty. In a depth he's surprised to receive from someone as calmly private as Ben seems, and from someone who Will had unwittingly invaded the privacy of before.
He lets this sink in for a while. ] threes. tapping your fingers and your cigarettes and your matches. i hadn't realized it was...is it ocd? [ All the observations, left in the clutter of ones for Ben, suddenly string themselves together for Will at the words compulsive disorder. He hands them over dutifully, so as with the tent, Ben can keep abreast of just how much Will's learned about him. With Ben, that feels-- fair.
What do you say to a man who learned how to chase the monsters out from under his bed, and now looks for other beds to cleanse? ]
too many people in the same setting? or too passive? you seem like you'd prefer to do the tidying up yourself instead of trusting someone else to understand your instructions.
not that i should be interrogating someone on what guilts and compulsions and desires brought them to their careers.
I'm sure this is hardly an interrogation, seeing as you're ex-police and all.
Yes, OCD. I've lived with it since, before. (before, and Will should know what that means.
that is...a very warranted question. and it focuses not on the topic that everyone else has historically honed in on: Ben's belief in God, which is an extremely tricky thing. )
I'm not really charming enough to be the media representative of someone that no one has ever seen.
Not to belittle the priesthood. It's good work, and the best of them save lives. My uncle is nothing short of a hero in my eyes, and I respect everything that he, his fellow men, the sisters, and the entire clergy do.
I suppose...too passive. I ask too many questions. Do too many things.
Don't let me try to be someone else's life coach. ( Ben is laughing earnestly, to himself. it would be a terrible idea. )
are you sassing me? [ What can't come across, unfortunately, is the incredulous amusement that marks Will's tone.
And then Will's confirmed for being correct - not that Ben was being coy so much as politely non-specific. And then Will is...given more than he thought he might be given. One two topics, both deeply personal. It's like holding gold in his hands, and for a few moments, it's a welcome distraction from the town and its myriad issues. Just him and another human, connecting in strange ways across a brief distance. ]
i don't know about that. you've been pretty charming so far.
i think like a lot of jobs that hold power over anyone, how much good it does is entirely up to the person in that position.
sounds like your uncle did a great job. with you, i mean, although it sounds like he helped other people too. [ This all feels oddly vulnerable, but Will can't help the foreign fascination with a family unit that means something to its members. For all his powers of absorbing meaning from other people, he's never quite been able to understand the sensation of being part of a family. ]
sounds like we both had the same problem. easier to be the exterminator than the counselor.
I wasn't, but now I wish I had been, just to assure how uncharming I really am. ( Ben actually can't tell if there is mirth there, but he feels the draw to assume that it's there, subtle in their pixelated words.
mostly because Will calls him charming, and Ben's stomach does somersaults. how does he keep the momentum of a remark like that? by being a bad flirt. he rather agonizes over the lack of tone to be read; he can't help but wonder how it would have landed, had Will been able to say it live to him. )
We certainly shaped each other. He was hit by the tragedy just as much as I was. But I cannot say that he didn't literally have a hand in shaping me into who I am now. ( how involved Ben became with the church, showing him everything involving demonology, hell — Tobias introduced Ben to his own herbalist that he's been visiting bi-monthly for two decades.
he even taught Ben how to cook. )
Well, if it helps, you're a wonderful counselor for this end of things. ( well-veiled vulnerability being laid out here, except Ben thinks that Will...can absolutely see what Ben admits to here: how cherished his friendship has become thus far, and so quickly. Ben isn't often so sentimental (because yes, this counts as sentimental for him) but...then again. life isn't usually this absolutely batty, either. )
[ Instinct shapes Will's question: ] was he your father's brother? [ It's inconsequential to the point of being rude to ask, maybe, but... Will can't quite keep his curiosity at bay. His curiosity is never actually professional, but in this moment, it feels particularly personal. He feels a shade of Ben's pain, and he wonders what the depth of it is.
Pull back. Focus. Pay attention. And-- be stunned by what's there to read. Will laughs out loud, and finds he doesn't like the sound of it. ]
careful. i'd make an even worse life coach than you. [ But-- but what, though? He's glad he could help? That's what's implied, maybe, but it feels presumptuous to say. In the end, the most honest answer is what Will can accept to type. ]
i'm not sure what else to say that doesn't sound like i'm thinking too highly about my own influence. but i'm glad for your sake that i'm getting something right.
( it would be a lie to say Ben isn't surprised by the question, but...it's miles from offensive. Will requests a finer detail behind Ben's personal life, about his family that stands half as a faded out photograph now. these are details that Ben either doesn't have to give away, when so many of who know his family simultaneously knew his family, or...don't know much at all. and if they don't know, it stays that way.
it takes consideration to move forward, but not a full deliberation. )
He is. My mother was an only child. My uncle is the younger of the two brothers. ( ancestral information can either be as simple as facts on a page, or as personal as a keepsake. for Ben, it's equally both. )
Perhaps only in bedside manner. ( but Ben's smile is, hopefully, palpable through the pixels. )
No grandeur needed. I think we're both too humble to look at our influence over others directly, when we want to or actually do the right thing. It isn't for ourselves.
[ There's an ache to hear an accurate family history. Will decides against offering up anything of his own - it's too hard to twist it into a shape that wouldn't block out the light Ben's just offered. ]
if nothing else, we'll end up self-reflecting more because we keep accidentally seeing reflections in each other.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wontgraham) wrote2019-04-10 08:46 pm
those eye emoji are terrifying whether i'm on mobile or my laptop, thx for that
...He'll just. Keep replying like he didn't just overshare in the vaguest way possible, then. ] Newt's your neighbor? i've met him. [ In increasingly unlikely and terrible circumstances, to be specific.
Will finds there's a curiosity where there'd usually be a wall. He wants to ask what isn't right about your living situation? but can't quite manage it. He doesn't even make attempts and delete them - just stares at his screen. Looks away. Stares again.
Moves on, temporarily, with it still gnawing at him. ]
this house i'm in isn't what i used to live in, back home, but it's close. close enough that it should probably offend me instead of soothe; like someone knew exactly what i'd want.
but it does soothe. even with the writing on the door.
[ Here goes nothing: ] you don't have that anywhere?
ur welcome
'he hasn't'
if this were a physical scene occurring, Ben would be tip toeing backward away from this remark. he's seen the glimmer in the bottom of the pond, but he knows better than to go diving into depths he doesn't know very well. )
Have you? I'm not surprised, it's a small town.
Well, I awoke in Newt's home originally, though I found out later my key didn't work for his door, but the next house over. Can't say either situation really echoes like what I refer to as 'home.'
Could just be because I'm without the cat. Or because the house is haunted. Could be both.
But as for me, here? Can't really say that I've found my 'happy place' just yet. Not sure how my odds look.
no subject
i'm trying to convince myself my dogs are all better off home, instead of here. i think i've almost managed it.
[ Is this...a portion of a conversation that isn't all doom and gloom and work-focused? How did this happen? Oh, wait, one second: ] sorry, did you say your house is haunted?
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Dogs? How many? And for all we know, we could be lying in bed in one whole night's sleep, missing nary a thing, and they haven't noticed anything themselves. ( Ben does not self-delude, but after a month of being here? he's gripping onto the things that comfort him the most. )
Ah, yes. Haunted. Genuinely...that. I've been told the poltergeists are usually rather peaceful, but...either this one doesn't like me in particular, or, they're clumsy. ( for him? it could be anyone's guess. )
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seven. i had a big yard. [ As if that remotely explains seven dogs. ] i can only hope that that's the case, or my colleague took it on herself to watch them again.
poltergeists. now i'm even more relieved i ended up with my assigned housing as close to in the middle of nowhere as it gets, here.
can you...do anything about a poltergeist?
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...Seven. Wow. I suppose I can see you as a dog person. Yours must be a nice house too, then. ( by which he means, roomy enough? Will says he can't imagine Ben being the sort to go out and get a cat, but Ben has to wonder how a guy ends up with over half a dozen dogs.
yeah, Ben sort of expected that level of disbelief. he had it himself. )
Well, where I'm from, I could answer 'yes' with some measure of certainty. Here, I'm not so sure. I think this place is haunted purely on principle.
For now, it's just keep calm and carry on...and replace my glassware on a semi-regular basis.
I just wish it would stop knocking into doors. ( he didn't say slam doors, which is a point to be made. )
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('Benny', supplies some raw part of Will's memory. He flinches, squeezes the phone too hard.) ]
it was.
i didn't go out and buy mine, either. the dogs, i mean. [ Obviously, Will bought...his house...... ]
so demons and poltergeists were as real of pests as ticks and mosquitoes? [ A connection occurs to Will, here. ] did you end up becoming an exterminator?
no subject
Your dogs just show up too? En masse, or gradually? ( Ben asks, slightly riding the wave of the unintended amusement. )
As real as, but far less obvious. ( if it makes Will feel better (or maybe it won't??) that supernatural phenomenon is not an prominent threat, even for him and his world. ) I suppose if you could call me nothing else, exterminator is the closest name for it.
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gradually. sometimes they show up. sometimes i offer to foster for the nearby shelter and then they don't leave.
so you're a world religions professor who also banishes supernatural creatures. quite a theme. [ And having seen what he did...Will can't really blame him. ]
no subject
what comes next is almost too easy to give out, and comes to an extent that Ben pauses to question — is Will ready for this much of a fragment of his backstory?
well, Will did get quite a lot of that before, and...he's stuck around since, hasn't he? )
My uncle finally taught me about demonology some time after the adoption became legal. I'd spent months in counseling not having really understood what had happened, and at first, he thought it would be best to keep it that way. Eventually, after the trauma exacerbated my compulsive disorder and robbed me of basic functionality, he wondered if explaining it all to me would help.
The rest is more or less history. Decided I wanted to make a life out of it. Nearly went to seminary school, too.
I know you might be imagining me in a white collar now, and if you are, I won't blame you for laughing.
no subject
He lets this sink in for a while. ] threes. tapping your fingers and your cigarettes and your matches. i hadn't realized it was...is it ocd? [ All the observations, left in the clutter of ones for Ben, suddenly string themselves together for Will at the words compulsive disorder. He hands them over dutifully, so as with the tent, Ben can keep abreast of just how much Will's learned about him. With Ben, that feels-- fair.
What do you say to a man who learned how to chase the monsters out from under his bed, and now looks for other beds to cleanse? ]
too many people in the same setting? or too passive? you seem like you'd prefer to do the tidying up yourself instead of trusting someone else to understand your instructions.
not that i should be interrogating someone on what guilts and compulsions and desires brought them to their careers.
no subject
Yes, OCD. I've lived with it since, before. ( before, and Will should know what that means.
that is...a very warranted question. and it focuses not on the topic that everyone else has historically honed in on: Ben's belief in God, which is an extremely tricky thing. )
I'm not really charming enough to be the media representative of someone that no one has ever seen.
Not to belittle the priesthood. It's good work, and the best of them save lives. My uncle is nothing short of a hero in my eyes, and I respect everything that he, his fellow men, the sisters, and the entire clergy do.
I suppose...too passive. I ask too many questions. Do too many things.
Don't let me try to be someone else's life coach. ( Ben is laughing earnestly, to himself. it would be a terrible idea. )
no subject
And then Will's confirmed for being correct - not that Ben was being coy so much as politely non-specific. And then Will is...given more than he thought he might be given. One two topics, both deeply personal. It's like holding gold in his hands, and for a few moments, it's a welcome distraction from the town and its myriad issues. Just him and another human, connecting in strange ways across a brief distance. ]
i don't know about that. you've been pretty charming so far.
i think like a lot of jobs that hold power over anyone, how much good it does is entirely up to the person in that position.
sounds like your uncle did a great job. with you, i mean, although it sounds like he helped other people too. [ This all feels oddly vulnerable, but Will can't help the foreign fascination with a family unit that means something to its members. For all his powers of absorbing meaning from other people, he's never quite been able to understand the sensation of being part of a family. ]
sounds like we both had the same problem. easier to be the exterminator than the counselor.
no subject
mostly because Will calls him charming, and Ben's stomach does somersaults. how does he keep the momentum of a remark like that? by being a bad flirt. he rather agonizes over the lack of tone to be read; he can't help but wonder how it would have landed, had Will been able to say it live to him. )
We certainly shaped each other. He was hit by the tragedy just as much as I was. But I cannot say that he didn't literally have a hand in shaping me into who I am now. ( how involved Ben became with the church, showing him everything involving demonology, hell — Tobias introduced Ben to his own herbalist that he's been visiting bi-monthly for two decades.
he even taught Ben how to cook. )
Well, if it helps, you're a wonderful counselor for this end of things. ( well-veiled vulnerability being laid out here, except Ben thinks that Will...can absolutely see what Ben admits to here: how cherished his friendship has become thus far, and so quickly. Ben isn't often so sentimental (because yes, this counts as sentimental for him) but...then again. life isn't usually this absolutely batty, either. )
no subject
Pull back. Focus. Pay attention. And-- be stunned by what's there to read. Will laughs out loud, and finds he doesn't like the sound of it. ]
careful. i'd make an even worse life coach than you. [ But-- but what, though? He's glad he could help? That's what's implied, maybe, but it feels presumptuous to say. In the end, the most honest answer is what Will can accept to type. ]
i'm not sure what else to say that doesn't sound like i'm thinking too highly about my own influence. but i'm glad for your sake that i'm getting something right.
no subject
it takes consideration to move forward, but not a full deliberation. )
He is. My mother was an only child. My uncle is the younger of the two brothers. ( ancestral information can either be as simple as facts on a page, or as personal as a keepsake. for Ben, it's equally both. )
Perhaps only in bedside manner. ( but Ben's smile is, hopefully, palpable through the pixels. )
No grandeur needed. I think we're both too humble to look at our influence over others directly, when we want to or actually do the right thing. It isn't for ourselves.
no subject
if nothing else, we'll end up self-reflecting more because we keep accidentally seeing reflections in each other.
thanks, again. for telling me about the message.