lostcarnival | The Most Irritating Game

Frankly, it's a conversation he'd rather have over the radio. He'd made his decision, talked to the ringmaster, and well, things hadn't gone as he'd originally suspected. That's what brings him to Foster's trailer, knocking on the door the day after the Gray Menace attacked.

"Foster? Open up."

Psi may notice the door is a lot bigger than it used to be, and the door knob is higher. That was Taako's doing... one of the last useful things Taako did before he became a Harbinger, and then disappeared from the Carnival entirely.

But Foster's interest in answering radio hails from the Psiionic is effectively in the negatives right now. If Psi wants to be his supervisor, then he can perform that role face-to-face, not from across the Carnival where he can use the distance between them as something to hide behind.

At least Foster does answer the door, though. And promptly, at that.

He doesn't say hello.

The last time Psi was at his trailer was after their return from Portland.

He remembers it, and he doesn't want to. He forces memory away, trying to be just business about this.

"I thought about your request."

Edited 2018-04-25 05:01 (UTC)

Foster still doesn't say anything.

Truthfully, he didn't expect Psi to come back to him after having "thought about it," let alone so soon. He's not putting any faith in the surprise of it, though. In fact, he's expecting just the opposite.

So he continues to stand in the doorway.

Waiting.

He very pointedly doesn't look at Foster's brand. In fact, it's as though he's looking through Foster himself, which is likely why the silence isn't as unnerving as it could be.

"I told the Ringmaster of my decision... But she disagreed."

He takes a breath, before forcing himself to meet Foster's gaze.

"For the time being you will remain under my supervision."

The Ringmaster--?

Foster is temporarily taken off guard, the white of his eye visible briefly as he turns his head away from Psi, brow furrowing over his openly perturbed expression. It's a split second before his eyes narrow--a second during which his body goes cold, and then hot, his stomach(s) dropping and everything dizzy and sick for half a second until hostility replaces shock and discomfiture. He's out of joint with reality all of a sudden, like Psi's words pushed him somehow into the space between what is real and unreal, pinning him there, unable to move either back or forward, in or out of it. He tastes bile instead of blood.

He doesn't even turn his head, but fixes Psi with a baleful, one-eyed stare. He manages one word, a demand:

"Why."

Edited 2018-04-25 06:12 (UTC)

The word makes something in him recoil, though for the moment he stands firm. He will not let his discomfort show on his face or in his movements. His top arms cross his chest, as one of the lower pair rests on his waist. He thinks a long moment on how to word his response.

"Because she doesn't see any reason she should allow you to change departments."

Is eventually the somewhat lacking explanation he gives.

"She's still mad about past incidents caused by you, and doesn't want to reward bad behavior."

"Past--"

Foster cuts off, struggling with the brief surge of fear and anger. Reward bad behaviour? What he's been doing--in Wismuth, at the manor. On the moon. He glances back at his own brand, unable to understand. Why, if he's doing that poorly, if his... behaviour is that odious, that intolerable, did she mark him as her own? What was the point?

He doesn't understand.

"Is that how she sees what I've been doing now?"

He was... trying. He was trying, and he knew he'd failed, he knows that's what he produces, by nature of his poisoned mind, his defect, that what he can ever accomplish will only ever--

But he didn't realise she saw it that plainly.

"I don't know how she sees it." he admits, shaking his head. He doesn't know how being in any specific department is a punishment. He also doesn't know what she expects Foster to do to prove he's been 'punished' enough. Working in labor wasn't going to trigger any magical transformations in anyone. Well except for the horse leg kind of transformations, apparently.

He wants to explain this to Foster. The Ringmaster wasn't mortal and she could never understand things from a mortal perspective. Frequently when the Ringmaster punished someone it was a simple reaction to her own feelings. As long as she was angry the punishment would continue. Only when her anger abated would she feel that Foster had finally learned his lesson, regardless of whatever he had or had not learned in the process.

He considers trying to make Foster see that, but he has a strong feeling doing so would be a waste of breath. Even if Foster understood with what the Psionic said he'd probably just argue for the sake of it, or tell the Psionic he was stupid for making such assumptions in the first place. If he doesn't tell Foster all that though, he doesn't really know what to say instead.

"It's just... You- She doesn't- She just doesn't understand you." The Psionic didn't really understand Foster any better. "She doesn't like the way you talk, she doesn't..."

And this isn't really helpful either. How could anyone be comforted to know it wasn't what they did, but who they were that was the problem. The Psionic's discomfort is beginning to show now, though he tries his best to look indifferent.

"...It's only temporary."

"It's only temporary--I'm only temporary! I'm already past my expiration date, there's no time--I don't have time to waste on platitudes about understanding. She doesn't need to understands me!" Why would she ever--

The better the Pisonic's intentions here, the worse his results. He can get as uncomfortable as he wants, it's not news to Foster that he, personally, is unacceptable--repulsive, reviled. Not just by the Ringmaster, but the universe writ large--until very recently, his very nature was anathema, in fact, to Creation itself.

So he doesn't have time now for platitudes.

"But I already know she doesn't like the way I talk. She's told me! It's a waste of her time, listening to me... listening to me tell her what she already knows!" It's followed with laughter--ruthless laughter.

And it ends even nastier.

"This isn't about how I talk."

Edited 2018-04-25 23:37 (UTC)

The Psionic bristles, "Of course it's not about how you talk!"

It wasn't that simple, that wasn't even what he was trying to say, but of course that would be what Foster heard. Communicating with Foster was always difficult, this very conversation proved it. Even now the Psionic can't really understand what's going through Foster's mind. He certainly doesn't know why Foster's laughing.

"But how are you supposed to convince her if she can't even stand to listen to you."

It comes out harsher than he means it, and he forces himself to pull back.

Edited 2018-04-28 03:52 (UTC)

"Convince her of what," Foster wants to know, "If in her eyes I I'm already wrong?" He isn't pulling back, and Psi's accidental unkindness invigorates him--it'd take more than just harsh words from Psi to achieve a concord, but where Foster is concerned, better that than tepid deflections, than aimless attempts to pacify.

Something darker creeps into his tone, though, something both morose and menacing.

"What I am is deemed unacceptable by her... but I can still be someone else."

What is at his core won't change, of course. A nasty, vile, base thing, something defective and wrong, not fit to lick the boots of those higher than his station lest he contaminate by his touch--but a higher being has the power to reshape him to her tastes, and in this he will gladly comply.

This feels like dangerous territory, and the Psionic doesn't like it. He doesn't know what exactly Foster has in mind, but his tone is foreboding. Even frightening.

"You just have to convince her that you are better, that you've learned your lesson and that you aren't going to do anything dangerous in the future!"

Foster is fully aware that he can't trust the Psiionic, but this... this is exceptional, even for him. Whatever message Psi was hoping to impart has been lost. But it doesn't matter. He knows what he has to do.

He goes silent for... a few seconds--then laughs.

"I'll promise one of those."

Worthless thing that he is, he will never be 'better.' What he can and will be is another--whatever form of his defect she desires, whatever facade of a person she views as permissible for her purposes, he can be.

Similarly, he cannot and will not promise not to do anything dangerous. That would be ridiculous. No, he promises the opposite. He will do and be whatever dangerous or terrible thing she wishes, and so take that risk place of others... others, whose lives are necessary and valued.

The frustration sets back in. It feels almost like they are having two completely different conversations.

"Foster." he starts, trying to get the other man's attention, or to at least pull him away from whatever he's started absolving to do in his own head.

"This isn't about promising anything to me or to her. I'm telling you, if you want her to let you switch departments you have to show her that you can act normal."

The Most Irritating Game

Day 45

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