8. spam

[exnihilo]

Mira sidles up to you. She's friendly, but not excessively so, not suspiciously so. She seems like a wallflower finally trying to ease out of her shell, or some similar mixed metaphor. In the cafeteria, it's 'Hey, do you mind if I sit with you?' and a small smile. In the hallways it's falling into step, one shoulder tilted awkward and shy. 'Hi. You're so-and-so, right?' In the library she asks what you're reading; on the deck she mentions the stars are beautiful. It's mild and banal, which isn't the point. The point is getting close enough to deftly tap a sticky note on your back. Don't worry, it only says your name.

[OOC: Mira is trying to do this for everyone, so David knows where people are! She also wished to remember, meaning her own past. Instead she's going to get other people's memories - critical, trivial, or things they had forgotten. Feel free to toss her one!]

Comments

[halftheman]

We felt the same about the boy. He turned out... oddly refreshing.

[exnihilo]

He wants to give me control over something that I didn't have before. But I can't think of anything!

[It's funny, and also sad, and incredibly frustrating.]

I mean. They gave me a lot of latitude, really. And there are ways the barge - doesn't.

[exnihilo]

If he died. What would you do?

I mean, culturally. Funerary customs.

[halftheman]

Latitude isn't the same as choice or control. Moving side to side in a small box doesn't mean you're outside the box. But I'm sure you'll figure it out in time.

[ He knows it. He has faith in her. ]

The barge gives different latitudes. Less, certainly. We're in a different sized box. Getting damned tired of them.

[ He wants to go home. To die, or live -- he's less than enthused about either option, but he doesn't want to be trapped here. ]

[imfollowinghim]

[So initially, before she clarifies, his answer is definitely, well. Different than what she's looking for, because an honest answer to that is probably somewhere along the lines of murder everyone responsible, and then I don't know.

Which should probably disturb him.

As it is, she does clarify, and so he just looks sort of confused in that way where you're not sure if you should laugh or not.]

Why?

[exnihilo]

It was a large box. Large enough that I could pretend not to see it.

[But not large enough not to see.]

I get to tell people the truth, now. That's different.

[It's nice. It means he can know her, a little. She can let people in. She can try.]

[exnihilo]

Nobody claimed my body.

[Relayed like any other unremarkable biographical fact. It's just true. But she thinks about it a lot. It's one of the only things she knows about her past, so she picks at it, dwells and returns to the implications.]

[halftheman]

[ He nods once. Yes, he can see that appeal. He's not a deep sharer, but -- he understands why one would want to, after so long being an unknown. ]

David's letting you grow, then. That's good.

[imfollowinghim]

[That makes him sober up a bit, because he's definitely seen a fair share of people who died without anyone knowing who they were or who they should contact to let them know what'd happened.

(And really, even if he's got people to mourn him, no one's finding his body.)

So he lets out a breath, and considers how best to explain the possible scenarios that he really doesn't want to consider anyway. Steve dying had been a very real fear a long time before the Germans had marched into Poland.]

It'd depend on how it happened. [Because, you know, war going on.] We're kinda not anywhere close to home right now, so someone'd take the body back behind friendly lines and find a way to get him home. If there was nothing left to bring home, they'd probably bury an empty casket once they figured out how to break the news to people.

There'd probably be some kinda hoopla now that he's a national hero. I don't know if I could sit through something like that.

[It occurs to him suddenly that he's not sure what they'd do with the body - if they'd try to save it for tests or burn it so no one could get their hands on the serum - and the thought makes him feel more than a little sick.]

[routemistress]

...And I wished to forget. I don't think I could've wished to forget everything. I like me life. I can tell that much, even when I can't see it.

[She reaches, a little diffidently - ready to abort the gesture at any sign of withdrawal - to stroke Mira's face, her hair.]

What did you remember, sweetheart? Not what you expected, right?

[exnihilo]

He wants me to be my own. I don't think he wants a lot of things, but I believe him about that.

[exnihilo]

[She curls into it, a little.]

A desert. And beautiful dreams.

I think it's yours.

[halftheman]

As I understand him -- he wanted freedom. I mean, I don't know him well -- just seen what he says on the network, mostly.

But that's not a bad thing to want for a person.

[persecutioncomplex]

[Touko shrinks back and spreads her hands in defense before she sees Mira's more horrified than she is. She's expected that reaction hundreds of times, but this is the first time it's come true, and the sliver of a thought that maybe it isn't about her makes her ask instead of snarl.]

What's wrong?

[characterdefect]

Maybe it's for the best.

[But he doesn't sound too certain. Insecure, like a smaller man than he's built himself up to be. He doesn't care for her retreat, either. Doesn't know why.]

You scared? [Of him; of the memory. Of death. Probably not that last one.]

[exnihilo]

No. I just know I don't have a right to it, that's all.

[Quiet, steady, honest.]

[exnihilo]

I hope he doesn't die.

[Mira Hidalgo: remedial empathy.]

[imfollowinghim]

Me too.

[Everyone's gotta die sometime, but he'd appreciate it if Steve maybe managed not to get his dumb ass killed a month after he did.]

[characterdefect]

[He keeps hold of her gaze like it's the last valuable thing in the world, just for a minute. Or tries to, anyway; if she's still looking away, he'll study her as if deciding how best to crush the life out of her.]

[But he doesn't want to. She's - valuable? Maybe; maybe that's it. Or maybe he just likes her. She's lovely, complex, layered, damaged. Lonely.]

That's why you don't ever trust anyone. [His voice is rough, angry - not at her, not anymore. And it's hyperbolic, but then that's the only way he talks anymore, big and loud, in this persona that Joe helped him construct.]

[exnihilo]

I wish I could give you mine back.

[Pensive, wistful. She holds his gaze as long as he does.]

I made a legal waiver, the first night. Said I consented to anything, everything, had the ship witness it. He could have killed me then and suffered no repercussions.

It wasn't that I trusted him. I didn't even know him. I don't know if I thought he was incapable of destroying any part of me that mattered or if I honestly wanted to risk it. Maybe both. We did such terrible things to each other. But splendidly.

I trusted him later. Just -

[Just to be with her, to hold on to what she thought meant so much to both of them. I could not watch because I love you.]

He left me behind.

[She would have preferred he killed her at the start. She'd accepted that, he had permission. Her voice shakes, a little. But she doesn't cry. She's done crying over Darling.]

[characterdefect]

Do you think this makes us even?

[The worst thing is, it does. He sees her vulnerability and tucks it away, and becomes angry on her behalf, too, even as he understands this unnamed man's impulses. Doing such terrible things to each other, but splendidly. He did to Louise, too, and she did back.]

[He misses her awfully, wishes that if she has to be dead that she was at least dead here with him, if not in his arms then within arm's reach, so he could brush his fingers across the back of her neck and leave marks there. Make her angry.]

[When Mira's voice shakes, he sighs, hands limp at his sides.]

Don't pretend it didn't happen. Even you're not a good enough actress to make me forget.

[exnihilo]

[She blinks, seriously considers the question, rhetorical or not.]

I don't know. I don't really think of things in terms of debts. I think of things in terms of intimacy.

And I wanted to you to know.

[Not you deserved to know. She just wanted.]

I won't pretend.

[Plain, solemn as a promise without being sentimental. She might forget in truth, but she won't pretend.]

[characterdefect]

[She wanted him to know. Even though she doesn't know him well, she has to know that he is dangerous - could use that information against her, if he wanted to. And yet.]

[He puts his hand on her shoulder, after a moment of internal debate.]

Thank you. [He doesn't even know what he's thanking her for. Just that she has done something kind for him, something terribly unwise and kind.]