13925/That Fateful Night - the subtleties of memory

That Fateful Night - the subtleties of memory
Date of Scene:	04 November 2021
Location:	The Mindscape - Nathaniel Essex' Memories.
Synopsis:	There are layers. Like an onion. Essex is like an Onion.
Cast of Characters:	Sinister, Lucifer

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Sinister has posed:
The day literally had been nigh perfect -- bright skies, clear as day, no clouds, that perfect spring blue. THe briskness of wind over the water, the comforting mass beneath the feet, the subtle omnipresent rumble of the massive engines that powered the propellers that forever hit the soles of the feet. Elevenses turned into a tour of the ship and as the sun set, instead of being up with the rich and the often times obnoxious, Nathaniel had taken a stroll below decks; subtle changes not in the physical shape, but simply in the illusions he presented to those that saw him down there.

It seems when he rode on this fateful voyage, he did not yet possess the ability to -become- anything he chose to imagine and manipulate his cells to be.

But it truly was a different kind of life down in steerage and even in the crew deck areas. There was a greater honesty to the working class, that -still- present sense of hope, those lucky enough to have secured a prestigious job that brought good tips for good work. Those seeking their future. Single people from all over Europe, families also. They knew how to celebrate life.

The two were invited to card games with the Irish, where the smoke was so thick in the air that it turned into a haze of blue-grey and silver. Whiskey, most of it brought from home or bought from the cheap but /honest/ stores reserved for the working poor.

Lucifer has posed:
It's a surreal thing to take in, even in memory, all that Lucifer is experiencing in some sort of odd first-hand but not really kind of way. The food was amazing, tea as well, and the tour of the ship simply fascinated. Lucifer played a part, and he played it very well while rubbing noses with the high and mighty - even while feeling sorry for the several thousand whom were doomed to die in mere hours.

Steering is a whole other story, really. Eye opening, all the hope and dreams here seem ten fold compared to those upstairs. Really tugs at the heart strings when one thinks about it. And here Sinister is, in a sort of between it would seem. Unable to manipulate himself, and so he is as he was and has been - which is an interesting thing. Almost like this is Sinister beneath all the layers he's given himself as time steadily passed on.

Card games with the Irish will never get declined. Especially if there's a chance at good Irish whiskey. The smoke is thick, the company interesting, and after a bit Lucifer leans over to brush nose against cheek. "...Did you have company while traveling here?"

Sinister has posed:
Sinister shakes his head as it's his turn to deal, shuffling adeptly, riffling the cards together and dealing with the ease of someone that had had MANY games by this point and hands that knew what to do. He looked pale at this point, had filled up and out substantially from the strapping, but still a little bookish doctor he had been. The red eyes had made thier appearance, as had the ruby diamond. "I was alone. That wasn't all that unusual for me, though. I spent most of my life alone and relatively unbothered by it; bitterness, internal conflicts and a determination to persist were powerful motivators. At this point I was actually -returning- to the Americas and would soon end up setting up my first neonatal clinics." Sinister replies, looking up at the clock in steerage. He nods softly to himself and looks back with a smile. Rounding in on half past eleven at this point. So little time left.

He looks aside, eyes softening and giving a smile with it, crooked as ever it is, when it's genuine and fond. "Something had told me to take -this- voyage. I could have waiting in Southampton for a little longer, I had business with the chandlers there, that was to follow me to America, in the tooling of certain parts of my own design. I laughed when they got to New York intact and in their crate, I have to say."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer nods a little to the alone statement while watching Sinister expertly shuffle and deal out the cards. Listening, of course, as well to what Nathaniel has to say in this moment. Noting the red eyes, the ruby, but also how bookish and pale he seems though healthy in most other ways. "This is...1912? So you're...about a century old at this point? Or am I off by a lot?" Time, is not something Lucifer keeps when it comes to extended periods. So he could be off by a lot or a little and not mean it in any harmful way. "Do you know what drew you to take -this- voyage? Go to America -now?" He asks this while picking up his cards to look them over a moment.

Sinister has posed:
"I was only eighty three. I hadn't quite hit my first century," Sinister smiles again, chuckling at this. "So young. It felt longer though, as by this point I no longer needed to sleep all that much." He placed a bet or two and /seemed/ to be playing relatively fair. He did not win excessively at the card game, at any rate. Whiskey taken up, toasted to the table with a "Slainte!" he tosses it back, looking part profile to Lucifer beside him. "I wish I knew. Remember I said I'd had these feelings before, for good or ill, regarding something that's on the horizon? Tapping into psychic potential, I think..." he admits with a sniff and a press of the lips. "I think at this point, I was too rigid a thinker to trust the intuitive side of being psychic. I did not go with my gut nearly as often as I do with the facts, at least not then. But occasionally..."

Apparently he couldn't argue with it. "Come on," he rises, toasting to the table as he grabs his jacket and hangs it over his shoulder. "I needed fresh air at this point." -- but nevertheless got some slaps on the shoulder, pats on the arm from the Irish he'd played with, watching the lucky winner gather up the small pile of wealth that was the kitty. Laughter fills the corridor, where innebriated steerage in one or two places were being lewd for the time period, having a snog behind the bulkhead. There was also several of the staff carrying laundry down to the onboard site, for overnight work. Tablecloths, napkins, towels...

Lucifer has posed:
"Aye, I remember. I just wonder if, maybe in hindsight even, if you ever pieced together the possibilities of why." Lucifer offers in return, downing his own shot of whiskey with the toast given in kind along with Nathaniel. "Ah, that makes sense. Still all about the facts in front of you and less about what could be seen.." He wiggles fingers. "Abstractly?" Is that even a word? Well it is now!

As Sinister rises, so too does Lucifer, offering his own farewells to the people within the memory. Those who can 'see' him but will (obviously) not recall his presence - regardless of their survival from this voyage. He follows the man back up to wherever he goes to get that fresh air. "Even as a smoker I can't see how they can stand to sit in that smokey of a room all that time...oof.."

Sinister has posed:
"At this point, it wasn't thought to be dangerous," Sinister replies, glancing back only briefly, then up at the rivets and support bars in the ceiling, the electrical lighting that was considered a wonderment. He turns off the corridor, makes it to an ignominious stairwell labelled 'F' and climbs, up to the port side of the ship, midway between prow and stern. He slings his coat on against the cold, breathing dragonbreath into the night and looks up at a very bright and clear moon, the stars like diamonds in the night sky. He doesn't say anything further for the moment, merely follows the path of memory, which has him ambling to the lower observation deck, still portside, where he leas against the railing and gazes for a short while at the horizon. The air though, smells very significant and he seems to be sniffing a good deal. "This is when I started to notice it. The movie that was made about this night made a note of it, but there really is a certain scent that goes along with significant ice in the air, particularly over strong saline. The air smells cleaner and just a little painful on the nostrils. I started to smell ice," and yes, that's there; possibly made more heightened by the fact that the smoke below decks had been so thick, by contrast the nose was tingling for it. "But ice rather obviously, doesn't have a brain," in the memory, he starts casting looks around, squinting at the horizon, but this again, was before he could take the eyes of a cat, or the hearing of an owl.

Everything also seemed to be exceptionally quiet. There was the hiss of waves against the hull, sussurating as they went by, murmurs from the command deck up above. The hollowness of a quiet breeze, but there -really- wasn't much wind, either. Still. Like a millpond. The sea was calm.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer follows along, joining in that silence and just lets Nathaniel follow the memory for the moment. As the man braces against the cold, Lucifer does as well and while he may not like the cold - he can tolerate it in the memory. When Nathaniel finally speaks on it, while leaning against the railing, gazing out among the stars...Lucifer scents the air himself. Memories are weird things. Should he truly be able to scent what Nathaniel did that night? It's hard to tell, and maybe just the thought of what it should smell like is what Lucifer is experiencing - again - one will never know. "Ice really does have a scent. Like you said that clean almost...chlorine like scent..." He offers and then watches as if Nathaniel is trying to strain to see whatever it is he is scenting. "It really was a calm night, wasn't it?"

Sinister has posed:
"Yes. Everything that occurred was like... a confluence of worst case scenarios. This voyage, was actually what made me realize that there's more between heaven and earth than is dreamt of in your philosophy," he looks at Lucifer then. "I was /supremely/ confident and arrogant before this night. I suppose that's why I'm sharing it now. It had a very profound effect on me. On who I am -now- that I ended up doing exactly what I'm doing with you, here and now, in my own memory. The sheer number of coincidences that had to have happened for this to have happened are quite astronomical. I actually calculated it once afterwards and the significance of the number variable came out /outside/ of random chance. I've never been able to figure out -what- wanted to stack the dice," he shrugs, shaking his head and steps closer, to kiss the Devil silently. Deeply. Lingeringly. Like it's the last, even though it won't be. He sighs, smiles slightly and lets himself just play to the memory; you can see when it takes over, as 'consciousness' fades just a little as he lets the memory of himself do as it did. As the diffuse dangersense hit, he could just hear the warning bell being rung above and the ship tried to turn. His head lifts, looks up at the command deck, turns to the starboard side, stares out and then he walks firmly over to gaze out that side, as the black shape looms out of the night and he actually reacted before really thinking about what he was doing, throwing both arms out toward the gigantic ice-berg, physically bracing. But what he did was about as significant as kissing a cue-ball up against another ball on a pool table. He was not capable of 'hitting' hard enough. Maybe he bought half an hour, as the great wall of ice punched its way passed. And maybe, had he NOT been there, the ship wouldn't have turned nearly as much. Did the chicken come before the egg, or the egg before the chicken?

ANd then he's back beside the devil, with a double nostril nosebleed, thoughts painted on the night sky as the scientific mind he possessed did all the calculations regarding the engineering design he'd painted on his mind as he'd taken tours of the ship. How many compartments got punctured? At this point of course, he had no idea.

"I think at this point, you may not want to see what came after. I don't know. I suppose..." he licks his lips a few times "...this is an admittance of some sort. I was guilty of breaking quite a number of locks this night. And then... being amorally selective in who I helped. I think this was the first time I really had to."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer watches the memory as it plays out, as Nathaniel slips away from him and into the memory itself. He had also listened, as he does, to what Nathaniel said about the number of coincidences, the calculations made, and results of such. When the warning bell sounds, Lucifer looks over towards where it comes from for a brief moment and then back again to watch as Nathaniel punches an iceberg. He tilts his head as he then steps back over, comes back beside Lucifer, and emerges from the memory. "Did you really think punching the berg was the best idea?"

I think you're right. We know what follows...and I am not sure I wish to see it..." He turns to face Sinister then, reaching to cup the mans cheeks. "Thank you for sharing this with me. For letting me know you a little more deeply and personally. But for now, I think we should leave the memory, rest up a bit more, and then meet the dawn refreshed and ready to work."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister taps his head. "Did it with my mind," telekinetic shove but that was considerably more than ten tons of ice in the water. And far more of that when factoring in the ship. And thus, why despite having a very powerful telekinetic on the ship that night, all he could do was buy a bit more time. He is not Magneto, or a member of the Avengers. And maybe, this is also a spot of personal growth, as Lucifer knows: He was alone this night. The only superhuman of any potency that he was -aware of- at least, on the ship. No team, no compatriots. No assistance. Just himself, trying to move a megaton ship and a megaton iceberg apart enough that it might do -something-. But -he- survived.

He takes Lucifer's affection for its worth, closing his eyes and clothing his mind in the trappings of the British Library with all its volumes in stacks, instead. "I swear, I do have happy memories, too. I will have to take you on a frivolous one or two, sometime." He looks almost sheepish for a moment, restored to his nicely sculpted self in memory. "Contemplating eyelids, we are getting rather accomplished at, I feel."

Lucifer has posed:
"Ah, okay. That makes more sense." Oddly enough, it does, and Lucifer accepts that. He's not going to point out anything else, as it's likely Nathaniel was already thinking on such a level as only being himself and that he did what he could. Even if, in the end, it wasn't enough. He tried, and that counts for something as well. He survived though, which is the other important factor. With affections given, Lucifer adds in one more as a kiss and then nods his head. "I know you have happy memories, as do I, and we will share them with each other in kind when the time is right. This memory was important too..." A pause and a chuckle. "We are getting quite good at contemplating eyelids." He says. "I shall see you on the morrow, my love."