[ that's — worrying. it is changing its form in the way Prior speaks - like it's something coming, not just something coming. distracted, John tries his best to comply, voice softened by thinking through his options, next steps; if there are any and if there need to be. ]
[ there's a shift of tone that implies the doctor in him is moving to the fore - a certain careful calm that sits strangely aside the attempt to keep it informal. ]
I'm sure you know how this sounds. An angel. Do I need to come over there?
No, no I know how it sounds but there is an angel. There really-
She visited me, before all this. She... speaks to me? Inside my head... I thought - I thought I was imagining it starting again. I thought I was paranoid but she's here.
Prior. Honestly, I've lived through weirder shit in the last three days than the possibility that angels are real. Let alone the last three months. So I can give you the benefit of the doubt there. But hearing voices in your head is going to put any doctor on edge, and I'm not any different.
[ so... we're at an impasse. John isn't even sure what he's asking for here, just - putting it out there that he's on the cusp of something and not quite sure which way he's going to go. ]
[ jesus fuck. okay. okay, John. whatever it is, something is happening over there. ]
I'm not going anywhere. [ except maybe to find something to stop him from drowning on his way over there. ] I'm going to come to you, okay? I'm going to stay on the phone, I'm not going anywhere, but whatever's going on, I'd rather you weren't on your own.
[ and then there's the dilemma of going outside - will it make it impossible to talk him through it over the phone? John sinks down to perch on the edge of a table near the door, undecided. shit. ]
[ and he’s entirely too far away to even bother to protest that ]
Listen. Listen to me. There’s fuck all I can do about that, yeah? But you asked me to talk. I’m talking. Fuck your angel for a second and listen. How’s the hard on?
[ a horny... angel? who prior has...? just push on through here John. ]
Good. Focus on that. — What did you - do. Today?
[ it’s really hard to try to convincingly engage in small talk when you’re not a fan of the stuff in the first place and you’re currently using it as a pathetic distraction tactic to take someone’s mind off what is either a potential fit of hallucinatory mania or an impending heavenly interaction, but he’s making a valiant effort to keep the steady authority in his voice. ]
[Some part of Prior can tell it's supposed to be comforting: a steady voice guiding him through the wilds of his own mind. But it doesn't work, doesn't and won't while he's not trapped in insanity but an actual living nightmare. What did he do today?]
I didn't just get back from school John, for pity's sake. I'm here, alone in the... the dark... in the... [A scream that could be Prior's voice but horribly twisted cuts off his words.]
[ dear god. he's good neither at a) this sort of thing, b) being helpless to help and stuck a sprint through a storm away from that being any different. and then Prior's scream, some wretched splintered thing, and John's not perching anymore.
he's not leaving either, standing suspended, the rain a barely-there barrier but one he doesn't know whether or not to breach. ]
You were warned of the consequences and see what has come to pass. America falls. I I I I spread my wings across Olympia now. Be not complacent, Prophet, your work begins. And not before time.
[There's a gasp and a whimper after this but it's all too human.]
[ there's a prolonged, stunned quiet even after it's clear that Prior's there - either still there or returned, God knows John doesn't have a clue. but he can't speak, not straight away. and when he can, after a swallowed breath or two, it's - ]
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audio,
Prior.
[ greeting and question in one, concern curling at the corners. not alright, he knows, but to what extent. what's going on? ]
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Oh, god. Oh good. Keep talking. Keep talking to me, it might not come if you can hear.
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—Alright. Okay. I'm here, I'm talking. Nice weather we're having.
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[ there's a shift of tone that implies the doctor in him is moving to the fore - a certain careful calm that sits strangely aside the attempt to keep it informal. ]
I'm sure you know how this sounds. An angel. Do I need to come over there?
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She visited me, before all this. She... speaks to me? Inside my head... I thought - I thought I was imagining it starting again. I thought I was paranoid but she's here.
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[ so... we're at an impasse. John isn't even sure what he's asking for here, just - putting it out there that he's on the cusp of something and not quite sure which way he's going to go. ]
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No, No! For gods fucking sake will you leave me the fuck alone. Don't come in I don't want you in here.
[And into the phone]
Just keep talking to me, please keep talking. Think I'm crazy if you want, that's fine, but don't leave me alone now.
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I'm not going anywhere. [ except maybe to find something to stop him from drowning on his way over there. ] I'm going to come to you, okay? I'm going to stay on the phone, I'm not going anywhere, but whatever's going on, I'd rather you weren't on your own.
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— Okay. Alright, Prior. Prior? You're alright.
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I am not alright I'm being stalked by a heavenly body and any minute now she's going to come through the roof.
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Listen. Listen to me. There’s fuck all I can do about that, yeah? But you asked me to talk. I’m talking. Fuck your angel for a second and listen. How’s the hard on?
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Good. Focus on that. — What did you - do. Today?
[ it’s really hard to try to convincingly engage in small talk when you’re not a fan of the stuff in the first place and you’re currently using it as a pathetic distraction tactic to take someone’s mind off what is either a potential fit of hallucinatory mania or an impending heavenly interaction, but he’s making a valiant effort to keep the steady authority in his voice. ]
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I didn't just get back from school John, for pity's sake. I'm here, alone in the... the dark... in the... [A scream that could be Prior's voice but horribly twisted cuts off his words.]
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he's not leaving either, standing suspended, the rain a barely-there barrier but one he doesn't know whether or not to breach. ]
Prior!
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In the dark, in the dark, the recording Angel opens its hundred eyes, and cracks the spine on the book
the book
the book
the book.
You forget yourself, Prophet but we do not forget you.
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he is, finally, left speechless at the end of the line. ]
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[There's a gasp and a whimper after this but it's all too human.]
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Fuck.
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Not this time.
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—So much for a voice in your head.
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