Not all phenomena in this world conforms to Robert Smirke's the taxonomy of the Dread Powers, no. Ones that are unclear get their own color. I also get plenty of tripe that I discard.
I believe AM puts us into the morning. But if you'd like to sleep on it... How are you sleeping, Dorian?
I did tell you to write it down. Multiple times, as I recall. Written Statements only. I didn't want to collect you. And I don't have a way to fix this.
It happens to everyone. I don't have dreams of my own anymore. I watch you and everyone else. So, I try not to sleep much.
[Which is why he's awake and texting at 3 AM. And looked so disheveled at their meeting. He'd fallen into a fitful snooze somewhere around midnight, which is why Dorian got to enjoy his first taste of the nightmares.]
[ His nightmares were of 1999, of growing old and decaying, of reliving the same things he told Jon about in his statement, of his flesh falling off, his body withering, and all his hundred-plus years of sins and existence catching up to him in a very body horror sort of way. ]
I did feel it. But you know something, Archivist? I sold my soul so that people COULD watch me. So that I would always be young and beautiful. So that my hair would never go gray and I'd never have a burn scar on my hand. So yes, reliving those memories was disgusting. But the watching? Less so. I'll have to choose a better story to tell you next time.
I'm someone who likes the way you looked at me. You had a hard-on the entire time I told my story. Seeing that expression is worth a few sleepless nights. I want you to look at me like that again, you definitely want my Statements again, we can work something out. Besides, I've survived worse than your dreams.
[ Which granted, are still absolutely horrible dreams that he'd really not like to go through again ]
I can count on one hand the number of times I have had sex here. Literally all of them were because of one wretched effect or another. You are not special. Unless you want to count yourself in the same category as this man. Who's also left me like that because he was stupid enough to give me a Statement when I told him not to.
[He sends along one of the photos he can grab from Vash's profile.]
[ Wait, he can see how Jon will answer this, so Dorian VERY QUICKLY ADDS ]
Which I am not, by the way. And in my defense, you had a tape recorder on the table and didn't lead with 'oh and by the way, this will give you horrific nightmares.' A man can get the wrong impression.
We did. The problem, of course, is that I adore talking about myself. Combined with you getting a hard-on whenever you hear someone talk about themselves...it gave results that I doubt either of us could plan.
It's not about you! You're not even my type. You're too bloody handsome for that.
It's the content of the story. The supernatural horror. It's why I asked you what you were most afraid of. What you gave me with the brand wasn't anything close to satisfying.
For your sake, I hope you do. I'll drop the statement off in a few hours, Archivist. I'll expect a response about which "Dread Power" I lay claim to soon after.
[And it's a few hours later, only after Dorian's made his delivery and Jon's checked there isn't anything missing that a reply comes.]
The Corruption. The fear of rot, decay, putrescence. Of toxic tendencies and whatever passes for love within a blackened heart. Your portrait is a monument to all that grips you with terror, Dorian. The Corruption would feast on you.
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Ones that are unclear get their own color.
I also get plenty of tripe that I discard.
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Bring back Henry Rathbone's Statement, fully intact with all pieces of the file, leave it with the building receptionist or Martin, and I'll tell you.
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I'll bring it back tomorrow morning. In case you haven't realized it, it's 3 AM.
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But if you'd like to sleep on it...
How are you sleeping, Dorian?
I did tell you to write it down.
Multiple times, as I recall.
Written Statements only.
I didn't want to collect you.
And I don't have a way to fix this.
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[ Dorian, who regularly employs cryptic bullshit to hide the fact that you know what happened, recognizes said cryptic bullshit when he sees it. ]
Do the dreams happen to every one you use that power on or am I just the lucky one?
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I don't have dreams of my own anymore.
I watch you and everyone else.
So, I try not to sleep much.
[Which is why he's awake and texting at 3 AM. And looked so disheveled at their meeting. He'd fallen into a fitful snooze somewhere around midnight, which is why Dorian got to enjoy his first taste of the nightmares.]
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Were you dreaming what I was dreaming?
[ His nightmares were of 1999, of growing old and decaying, of reliving the same things he told Jon about in his statement, of his flesh falling off, his body withering, and all his hundred-plus years of sins and existence catching up to him in a very body horror sort of way. ]
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You'll probably see me watching sometimes.
I'm sure you felt it, though.
All those eyes watching you.
It really was disgusting.
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But you know something, Archivist? I sold my soul so that people COULD watch me. So that I would always be young and beautiful. So that my hair would never go gray and I'd never have a burn scar on my hand.
So yes, reliving those memories was disgusting. But the watching? Less so. I'll have to choose a better story to tell you next time.
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I'm not taking any more verbal Statements from you.
Are you a masochist or something?
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I want you to look at me like that again, you definitely want my Statements again, we can work something out.
Besides, I've survived worse than your dreams.
[ Which granted, are still absolutely horrible dreams that he'd really not like to go through again ]
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It's a spell effect that I'm trying to get fixed.
I don't get off on that sort of thing.
I don't get off on anything.
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It's okay Johnny, you can admit it.
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Literally all of them were because of one wretched effect or another.
You are not special.
Unless you want to count yourself in the same category as this man.
Who's also left me like that because he was stupid enough to give me a Statement when I told him not to.
[He sends along one of the photos he can grab from Vash's profile.]
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[ Wait, he can see how Jon will answer this, so Dorian VERY QUICKLY ADDS ]
Which I am not, by the way.
And in my defense, you had a tape recorder on the table and didn't lead with 'oh and by the way, this will give you horrific nightmares.' A man can get the wrong impression.
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He is a complete idiot.
And you came to listen to a Statement.
I was going to play one for you.
We did discuss that before you came.
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The problem, of course, is that I adore talking about myself. Combined with you getting a hard-on whenever you hear someone talk about themselves...it gave results that I doubt either of us could plan.
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You're not even my type.
You're too bloody handsome for that.
It's the content of the story.
The supernatural horror.
It's why I asked you what you were most afraid of.
What you gave me with the brand wasn't anything close to satisfying.
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Well.
My memories must be a fucking buffet to you.
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Which is why I can't see you in person.
[Dorian is too delicious.]
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[ especially because Dorian is going to go out of his way to seen Jon out because he's a shit who doesn't care about boundaries. ]
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[A blatant lie, but Dorian couldn't know that.]
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I'll drop the statement off in a few hours, Archivist.
I'll expect a response about which "Dread Power" I lay claim to soon after.
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The Corruption.
The fear of rot, decay, putrescence.
Of toxic tendencies and whatever passes for love within a blackened heart.
Your portrait is a monument to all that grips you with terror, Dorian.
The Corruption would feast on you.
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