070 ☣ the spoon which was melted scrapes against

[fridgetothefire]

[It's been over two weeks since Anya abruptly lost regular - or at least straightforward - contact with reality. She hasn't been violent, or even especially obtrusive. Ben is her constant shadow, makes sure she eats, and carries her back to her own room if she falls asleep in an unoccupied doorway or curled up under her desk in the office.

For people who pay attention, though, it's obvious something is awry. She's normally a fixture at mealtimes, leaves the maintenance office door open during daytime hours for people to drop in if they need anything fixed, can be seen keeping the barge in order. Now - Stephen and Peter have been working on the shattered greenhouse, but it's slow going, and there are other places ripped up or dented or bloodstained after the sha eradication that haven't been cleaned up, furniture that hasn't been repaired or reupholstered. Splashes of paint from Mickey's April Fool's escapades dry and flake and curl. The barge accumulates little scars, looks a tiny bit more like the battlefield it is.

Anya herself haunts the barge like a ghost, like Mad Bertha in the attic, like she is haunting herself. She doesn't scream and rarely approaches people. But she lingers, skulks, perches and coils. She stalks after people she knows, or thinks she knows. She hunches down sometimes, covers her ears, makes jerky, distressed animal noises, or whispers a word over and over, or grips doorknobs so tight it hurts her hand, rigid with fear, stares like a cat at corners and nothing. She tries to scratch her skin slowly off, until Ben catches her hands, and she shakes and whimpers and collapses against him, and then is distracted by some other elusive mystery for a little while.

There are periods, thanks to Jean, where she is, if not coherent, at least mostly stable. But they do not last. It's possible she's getting worse.]

[OOC: some location/starters in comments, feel free to make up your own. Anya wandering might conceivably go almost anywhere.]

Comments

[dinosize]

Anya?

[ He comes to find her, when he can't find Peter. Not that she's so stable, at the moment, but no maintenance supervisors at all doesn't strike him as a good thing for the Barge. He'll look around her room, around the office, and then, if that doesn't work, start wandering the halls. ]

[fridgetothefire]

[She is in the office, on the floor, surrounded by spilled nails. She is arranging them, heads down, points up, in elaborate, bizarre patterns that seem utterly necessary to her at this moment. She glances at him, once, quickly, almost surreptitiously, then returns to her work.]

[warisart]

[Ben is sitting at the desk, head turned so that she is within his field of vision, but not apparently watching her. He's reading a book open in front of him and making notes in a notebook, seems to be ignoring her activities completely.

He is tired, and he looks it. He knows no one approaching here will be looking for him and knows it's Stephen before he turns up at the door, so Ben does not so much as glance up. He's here to keep Anya from hurting herself or anyone else, or worsening without anyone's knowledge, not to limit her interactions altogether or keep people from her, so he doesn't try.]

[dinosize]

[ He gives Ben a glance, would give Ben a nod of greeting if Ben had looked his way. He doesn't exactly mean to ignore him, but Anya is his focus, at the moment.

He crouches in front of her. ]

Anya, do you have your maintenance key? The key, to this office. Peter's room is gone.

[fridgetothefire]

We built a tower. Clack clack clack.

[She doesn't look up. They're Peter's designs, with the nails - things he used to do with paperclips on the ceiling. Or they are what she has interpreted of what she can remember of them, from when they first started working together two years ago.]

[warisart]

[Ben doesn't seem to be bothered by being overlooked; it was what he wanted, until that was the subject at hand. He knows where the key is. He's been keeping track of it almost as well as he has her stash of weapons that he is familiar with, not the least because it is an obscure but very real weapon in and of itself; now he glances at Stephen rather than the pocket he knows Anya put it in, blinks slowly at him.]

Has something happened?

[dinosize]

[ Shake of his head. He redirects his attention at Ben. ]

Peter's gone, Anya's - [ He gestures at her - Anya is self-explanatory, ] there's a lot to do, and when I came this morning, I was locked out.

I thought I might as well take over, until she's back to normal.

Do you know where the key is?

[warisart]

[Ben's eyes narrow ever so slightly when Stephen gestures at Anya. All the same, it is self-evident that she is not as capable as she would normally be in the situations Stephen is emphasizing.]

I do. Do you understand that the key is issued to a warden supervisor for a reason?

[dinosize]

So that no one goes around hammering each other's brains out?

Believe me, I'd be much happier if maintenance weren't just up to me. I'm not going to do anything but fix the Barge.

[warisart]

So that there is someone to blame if anyone should feel the need to go "hammering each other's brains out."

A feat some accomplish very easily without access to any of the tools kept in this office.

[dinosize]

Meanwhile, I can't easily fix the Barge without easy access here.

[warisart]

She is responsible if anything happens because that key is not in her possession.

[fridgetothefire]

Shhhh.

[She says it without looking up, still seemingly focused on the floor, still curled in on herself, a soft murmur of a noise.]