Chapter Text
The agreement has only been in place for a handful of years, but the Web has already established an annual gala to celebrate the alliance of all participating avatars. Annabelle Cane takes great delight in her duties as hostess, and in the tense social microcosm formed by getting a throng of non-humans and semi-humans together in one room. Jon attends as the de facto spokesperson of the Beholding, upholding his role in the agreement, though for the most part he stands by the wall with a plate of bougie snacks and glass of wine, people-watching.
There's a young man trailing behind Peter Lucas, a novelty that immediately draws Jon's attention. His auburn hair is streaked in the pure white of the Lonely. His whole demeanor is mottled with it, in turns colorful and colorless. The Lonely, despite being one of the quieter torments, has a flair for certain dramatics. The Lonely draws a not-insignificant amount of artists, ones who are more aware than most that connection to other people gives life meaning and will, therefore, appreciate and loathe the heavy metaphor of a life in the Lonely literally draining one of their color.
Of course, by the time the Lonely has fully taken one over, they aren't likely to care, but the process of Becoming an avatar feeds one's patron as much as any other encounter. Jon remembers his frantic paranoia during his own process of Becoming, his relentless hoarding of knowledge and secrets, driven mad with the opposing fears that he'd be brought to ruin if he didn't have the information to stop it, and that the information he uncovered would be what ruined him. What he is now isn't free of its torments, but it's a sight better than the growing pains.
What are the growing pains for one aligned with the Lonely?
It's unusual that Peter even bothered to show up at one of these things, and even more unusual that he brought along a guest. Idle curiosity grows into a familiar urge and his mind buzzes with Knowledge, pouring in from the ocean available to him as a reflex more than anything else. He shuts the door on it before he gets caught up in the wave, but enough got through for him to learn the basics about Peter's guest.
His name is Martin Blackwood. The Lucases aren't responsible for his turn to the Lonely, but they found him anyway when he was scared, confused and unaware of what was happening to him, as many Avatars are at first. The Lucases do love their little dynasty, so Peter collected him up to be properly groomed and integrated into the family. It's not the first time he's done this, but it is the first time he's tried it with someone like Martin. His connection to the Web complicates his relationship with the Lonely, but Peter is not overly worried. He should be.
The Web may not engage in much healthy interaction with people, but it does rely on that interaction, those connections. Someone touched by both the Lonely and the Web has the potential to be very volatile and very dangerous. He's likely to implode spectacularly and take out anything stupid enough to have gotten too close.
Martin looks around the room with a demeanor of withdrawn anxiety. It makes sense; he's new to this world. Jon is very eager to Watch him emerge, and, when the time comes, rip himself apart.
Oliver Banks touches him lightly on the arm, breaking Jon from his thoughts. He must have gotten a little more caught up in the Knowledge than he thought. Amused and a little reproachful, Oliver asks, "Chewing on anyone interesting, Jon?"
The other avatars get precious about him Knowing things about them, even if it is one of the least horrific things anyone in this room is capable of. At least he's not trying to fill anyone with insects or boil the fat in their bodies. He's tried telling them that most of them really aren't as interesting as they seem to think they are, but this only seems to make them more insistent that he keep his Eyes to himself.
He does tend to keep them to himself at these gatherings as a courtesy— a gesture of goodwill to maintain the non-hostile arrangements and allyships amongst avatars along the British Isles and all that. It's better than the open warfare of years past, and new threats in the form of the Fearless and upstart avatars chock full of doomed idealism mean it's smarter to play nice with the like-minded. They all serve different faces of the same god, at the end of the day.
"Maybe," Jon answers, taking a sip of his wine and humming in satisfaction. The Web may be one of the powers that offends his sensibilities the most, but this gala of theirs consistently has the best food and drink of all the events Jon is compelled to attend for the sake of making nice. "Are you?"
Oliver snorts. "At this place? I'm the most interesting one here."
"Really?" The corners of Jon's mouth twitch in mirth. "Including Annabelle?"
She glides arm-in-arm with the uncanny Sarah Baldwin in a blood red gown, etched with tiny black and white spiders that seem to move as she does. Jon doesn't know much about historical fashion and he doesn't particularly care to Know either, but he's sure the gown is vintage design, much the same as the rest of her wardrobe. Sarah wears a leather jacket over a simple dark blue dress. They look perfectly at ease in the opulence of Annabelle's ballroom, the wooden floors glistening and the intricate, arching walls rising into a high domed ceiling from which hangs what has to be the most elaborate chandelier Jon's ever seen.
"Please," Oliver sighs. "Her dress is the most interesting thing about her. Smug manipulators are so... basic. Arachnophobia, too. Is there any fear more common than the fear of spiders?"
"Death." Pain, too, but that won't make Oliver's eyebrows twitch in poorly-concealed indignation. "Everyone fears death."
"Mundane, I meant." Oliver flashes his teeth in the mockery of a grin.
"Is the fear of death not mundane?" He sips his wine faux-casually, keeping on a pleasant smile.
"Death is profound. Spiders are not." Oliver sniffs and sticks up his nose. Their ruse only lasts a few more seconds before they're both breaking into undignified giggles, turning toward the wall and covering their mouths to avoid drawing attention. Still, they draw a few odd looks. "You make an excellent aristocrat, Jon. You've really nailed the petty sniping."
"Mh, you're lucky Annabelle wasn't close enough to hear that little comment about her being basic," Jon returns. Oliver waves his hand dismissively.
"Ah, I'm sure she's got the whole place crawling with little spies that'll tell her regardless. Worst she'll do is manipulate me into some kind of embarrassing situation. Predictable."
Jon huffs a laugh. "You're really goading her now."
"She's not nearly fragile enough to rise to the bait. She's very secure in who she is and she doesn't need my approval."
"Are you backtracking because you're starting to imagine what kinds of embarrassing situations she might lure you into?"
"You can't prove anything." Oliver grins, a real one this time, and turns back to the gala with a deep, put-upon sigh. "I have to talk with Sarah."
Jon winces. "Trouble with the Stranger?"
"Just some light stalking." He rolls his eyes, sharing a commiserating look with Jon. "I believe I've drawn the attention of a vigilante type."
"A vigilante tied to the Stranger?" Jon shakes his head in disbelief. "That's a new one. Strangers usually revel in becoming the monsters others think they are."
"Is that a hint of sympathy I hear, Jonathan Sims, avatar of the Eye, for your diametric opposite, the Stranger?" Oliver widens his eyes dramatically. "How are you not falling apart at the seams?"
"I don't have seams."
"Not yet." Oliver's teasing look fades as he turns back at Sarah. "And anyway, the Stranger doesn't just go after people who feel othered by society. It's also the fear of the absurd. That life is absurd, and so is death. That we'll never understand anything about this world because it's just fundamentally incomprehensible. And the fear of taxidermy, too, I guess." Across the room, Sarah lifts a gloved hand to her mouth with a yawn. The glove is a dark leather that is almost certainly made from human skin. And, now that he thinks of it, it's likely her jacket is, too. Disgusting. "People who embrace the absurd make excellent Stranger avatars."
"Sure," Jon sighs. In all honesty, he has found himself sympathetic to some of those swallowed by the Stranger, but the entity itself is... Jon hates it for what it's taken from him. More specifically, he hates the Not-Them and Nikola Orsinov, but they're both dead and Jon can't help his lingering resentment. "You think it's one of Sarah's?"
"No, the Anglerfish's vessels always stay in line." Oliver smirks wryly. "But the Stranger has to clean up its messes just like the rest of us."
Jon makes a face of agreement. It's part of the terms of the arrangement they have with the other avatars they're aligned with; problems are dealt with in-house. Oliver has had his fair share to deal with. There was a woman just a few months ago who gained the power to kill people in their dreams, inflicting her victims with such severe mortal terror that they'd die from the stress. Jon has heard the saying that dying in a dream means you die in real life, and he supposes that's where her inspiration came from. She came after Jon a few times after discovering him through the nightmares of someone he Watched, but never succeeded in killing him.
Oliver found her when she was awake, in deep denial that anything she did in the dreams was real. His attempts to explain what was happening and ease her transformation only made her angry, and after that she appeared in the dreams of several other avatars, including visiting Jon many more times. It was quite the nuisance. She only succeeded in killing a fledgling Spiral avatar, not nearly strong enough for any of the rest of them, but it was enough that Oliver was called upon to put an End to her.
Avatars of the Eye tend to like causing trouble just to Watch the fallout, so Jon has also been called on a few times to deal with a number of agitators. Sometimes they agree to operate under the terms the rest of them do, but other times the Knowledge of the truth of the world makes them impassioned and irrational. They'll try to 'tell the world' and other such nonsense until they realize no one will listen, and then start attacking all the avatars they manage to Know of, as those resistant to Becoming are want to do.
It's a shame, but the terror of Becoming is the point, and not everyone is fit to survive it.
"Be careful," Jon urges. "With her and with your stalker." He'd hate to lose another friend to the Stranger. It would be very hard not to take it personally. He might have to take up the mantle of eradicating all its extensions into the world if that happens. Let it starve for a while as penance.
"Don't worry about me. I'm a survivor," Oliver jokes. "I'm just gonna pop over and then I'm out of here. Don't try eating anyone who can eat you back, alright, Jon?"
Jon smiles, rolling his eyes fondly at Oliver's retreating back. He'll keep an Eye on Oliver until the situation is dealt with. It might get Oliver cross with him, but he'd rather that than let his friend get killed due to his own inattention.
Finishing his glass of wine, Jon considers making his own exit. Some fledgling Slaughter avatars are getting exceptionally drunk in the corner and he's curious to See how that situation pans out, but he's getting tired and he's not eager to linger in Web territory longer he has to, neutral ground for the night or not.
"Hello, Archivist," Peter Lucas grins, appearing from nowhere beside Jon like the cheap magician he is. Martin is a half-step behind him, trying to make his studious avoidance of eye contact look natural. This close, Jon can make out the splatter of freckles on his skin, covering his face and down his neck, disappearing below the collar of his suit. Feeling Jon's Gaze on him, though, he's compelled to return it. His eyes are startlingly green, the color brought out by the washed-out look of the rest of him. It's telling, Jon thinks with no small amount of delight, that his eyes haven't been affected by the drain of the Lonely. "You're looking well."
"Something I can do for you, Lucas?" Jon sighs. He glances down at his empty wine glass, feeling suddenly bereft.
"Right to the point! I do that love that in a man." Jon resists the urge to wrinkle his nose in disgust. He knows more than he ever wanted to know about what Peter likes in a man. "Our dear Jonah is doing wonderfully, by the way."
If being effectively neutralized as a threat and hiding away somewhere in whatever isolated corner Peter put him in to lick his wounds can be considered 'wonderfully'. Maybe he's finally taken up a hobby that doesn't include being a slimy bastard. "I didn't ask."
"Oh, but you wanted to know, didn't you? It's part of your whole," Peter gestures vaguely at Jon, "gimmick, isn't it? Wanting to know everything?"
"Not everything. Was that all?"
"Actually," Peter drawls, "I was hoping for a little favor."
"In what world would I do a favor for you?" Jon asks, genuinely curious.
"For one in return! I just need a bit of information, and in exchange," Peter reaches back, placing a hand on Martin's shoulder and drawing him forward. "You'll get yourself a statement."
Jon raises an eyebrow. Peter maintains his usual jovial mask, while Martin looks increasingly like he'd rather be anywhere but here. His eyes flicker between Jon and the floor. It puts Jon on edge, but at the same time, his curiosity is piqued."You're offering up one of your own people to me?"
"Well, he's not quite one of us yet, is he?" Peter smiles like it's a joke. "He'll learn to block you out of his dreams eventually."
It's ruthless, but it isn't as if that's a surprise coming from Peter Lucas. Jon gets the feeling that Martin is being punished for something, and it is through this punishment that Peter thinks he'll bring Martin to heel. Jon is aching to Watch how it backfires on him, but Martin's dual connections makes him hesitant to get involved. Best to Watch from afar, in this case. At least for now.
Still, he's curious, so he plays along. "What kind of information are you after?"
"That's the best part!" Peter breaks out into a grin. "The information I want and the statement you'll gather are one and the same."
Ah. Peter's pet project is keeping secrets and he's hoping that by drawing them out, it'll purge Martin of his connection to the Web. With no cards to hold close to his chest, his means of manipulation would be null. Or, so Peter thinks. Jon is well aware that someone doesn't need to have secrets to be an effective manipulator. In fact, Peter assuming that side of Martin will be neutralized will make Martin all the more dangerous, particularly to Peter himself.
Martin has been docile this entire time. Perhaps it is simply the Lonely aspects of himself, uncomfortable in such an open and crowded social setting. Perhaps his loyalty to Peter after he took him in is strong enough to not resist his command. He's hardly a full avatar, so it's also entirely possible that Martin is just scared enough to do whatever Peter says.
His bright green eyes stand out starkly while Jon considers him. For a brief second, Martin flashes him a small smile. It lights up his face in a way no full Lonely avatar could ever manage, and conveys the amusement of a shared secret.
"You know what?" Jon says. "Why not. Let's go somewhere more private."