Lt. Toxin Arlill - Blue pill the story ends.

[Lhandon_Nilsen]

There are a number of ways to mourn a friendship, nay, a brotherhood between two people that has imploded. While Lhandon has found his other friends and worked out his anger on the punching bag, @Erik Johnson's PC Toxin Arlill, takes a different approach. The stark contrast between the scenes tells its own story. I'll link Maxwell's sim from that scene here, so you can see the contrast yourself.

This friendship between Arlill and Nilsen has been a cornerstone in each other's lives for over a year. They called each other brother and they held together the Operations department on both the Oumuamua and Octavia E Butler. They did so much together, they raced in the Denali Invitational, they constructed the new Operations Centres together and they even knew each other's families. 

And now that's gone up in smoke.

This sim...even though I'm involved in this story and I knew that Erik was cooking, made me want to reach through the screen and hug Arlill. Erik is a phenomenal writer, and don't worry, we haven't fallen out IRL.

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(( Chief of Operations Office, Deck 7, USS Octavia E Butler ))

 

Toxin stared out to the OC, operations staff moved about like stars streaking by in tiny blurs of light. The events of the past few minutes, days, weeks weighed heavily on him, a burden he couldn't shake off no matter how hard he tried. Henri's presence, someone he’s began to feel comfortable with, now felt like a wedge driven between him and the rest of the world - especially Lhandon.

 

He closed his eyes, letting out a long, weary sigh. The memories of his past experiences with Lhandon, caused a mixture of confusion, hurt, and anger, that now etched into his mind. How had things gone so wrong? Toxin had always prided himself on his ability to maintain control, to keep his inner world separate from his duties and relationships. But Henri... Henri had changed everything.

 

The invisible companion, a figment of his imagination or something more, had become a point of contention that Toxin couldn't ignore. He'd pushed Lhandon away, severing a friendship that had been a cornerstone of his life aboard the Octavia E. Butler. The loneliness that followed was almost unbearable.

 

Toxin's fingers absently traced patterns on the cool surface of the viewport. He wondered if he'd made the right choice. Was protecting Henri worth the cost of losing Lhandon? The rational part of his mind argued that it was necessary, that Lhandon couldn't understand the complexity of his situation. But his heart ached with the loss of his confidant, his best friend.

 

Toxin realized that he was at a crossroads. The path forward was unclear. Would he find a way to smooth this over with Lhandon, to explain what couldn’t or should be explained? Or would he continue down this lonely path, with only Henri for company?

 

The weight of his decisions pressed down on him, a constant reminder of the choices he'd made and the consequences that followed. Toxin knew that eventually, he would have to face the fallout of his actions. But for now, in the quiet solitude of his office, he allowed himself a moment to be vulnerable and mourn the friendship he'd sacrificed. He wondered if the price of keeping Henri a secret was truly worth it.

 

Arlill: =/\= Computer, Double Olde Fashioned on the Rocks =/\=

 

Computer: =/\= This replicator is restricted to replicating mocktails only, all alcoholic or synthehol drinks must be replicated from personal quarters or recreational ar… =/\=

 

Arlill: =/\= Computer, over ride authorization Arlill, Alpha, Alpha, two, nine, five. =/\=

 

Computer: =/\= Authorization override noted, replicating beverage. =/\=

 

Toxin tapped his desk, and the entire surface came to life. He pulled up the computer logs and accessed the replicator's log. After punching in his access code, the screen accents turned yellow, revealing new options. He pressed the button marked "98-007" (( ooc: Delete )). A prompt appeared briefly, confirming the action, then disappeared.

 

Picking up the glass off the flat replicator surface at the right side of his desk, he took a sip, slammed the glass down and headed out his office door.

 

(( Holodeck D, Deck 7, USS Octavia E Butler ))

 

Arlill: =/\= Computer, activate program Arlill-1182. =/\=

 

The blank yellow grid on black background didn’t disappear as was usually the circumstance that were holodeck activities. No instead two seat resembling old earth leather, tall in nature, with black wear marks appeared with a small table in between. On the table were two cups, one with a red pill one with a blue pill within each. (( ooc: I was going to add a link, but if you know, you know ))

 

Arlill: Henri, we need to talk.

 

(( Gymnasium, Deck 5, USS Octavia E Butler ))

 

After Toxin and Henri's conversation, Toxin felt a little more relieved. Henri had made the right choice, he’d picked the right option. Toxin didn’t feel remorse, he felt some level of reassurance and freedom. Toxin entered the gym, looked around finding it empty, he went to the bench press.

 

Reaching up and grabbing the barbell he pressed up on it, he hadn’t changed the weight from the previous user and it was obvious they were one of the more toned folks on the ship. He felt it wasn’t too bad and pushed. The bar came down to his chest once…. twice…. three times and it began to feel heavy. Two hands reached forward and rested below the barbell.

 

Henri: oO I’ve got you. Oo

 

Toxin: ::smiling:: Thanks.

 

Anyone: Response

 

Tags/TBC!

 

[Toxin Arlill]

I want to thank Tom for this amazing feedback. When I joined SB 118 it was just a fun thing to feed my imagination, but honestly I was ready to give it a break... until Tom joined, then things came to life! I met this amazing writer and creative imagineer who's ideas often build on my stories and ideas. His sim in the gymnasium, after they have their falling out, was fuel that fired my creativity and may have generated a few tears as well!

https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-butler/c/rUogIrireik