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trans_92011-05-02 10:18 pm
vissernone.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92011-05-02 10:18 pm
Entry tags:
That Dizzying Moment When Past and Present Becomes One [Closed]
If Eva has a personal raincloud, she's convinced it's storming today.
She sits on her feet in the garden, wrenching plants from the earth, not caring about the hard dirt digging angry separations between her fingernails and her flesh. What she'd really like to do is throw all the silverware and dishes in the house onto the yard, but she can't justify that luxury on Stacy. So instead she digs aimless holes and uproots weeds and flowers alike, up to her arms in earth, face smeared with dust.
She's keeping herself in the mechanical headspace where the only thing she can focus on is the movement of her arms, the way her shoulder's old wounds ache, the unbidden clench in her jaw. If she thinks about anything less physical, she'll think about Marco, scared and maybe sick in the Med Bay. She'll think about that violation on the Quarter from the psychic wave. She'll think about how much she could use Peter to lean on right now. She'll think about the possibility that they won't find a cure for Marco and that his last memory of her will be her betraying his physical safety to Kang.
So she doesn't think. She digs, she pulls, and she waits for Rory.
[trigger warning]
She sits on her feet in the garden, wrenching plants from the earth, not caring about the hard dirt digging angry separations between her fingernails and her flesh. What she'd really like to do is throw all the silverware and dishes in the house onto the yard, but she can't justify that luxury on Stacy. So instead she digs aimless holes and uproots weeds and flowers alike, up to her arms in earth, face smeared with dust.
She's keeping herself in the mechanical headspace where the only thing she can focus on is the movement of her arms, the way her shoulder's old wounds ache, the unbidden clench in her jaw. If she thinks about anything less physical, she'll think about Marco, scared and maybe sick in the Med Bay. She'll think about that violation on the Quarter from the psychic wave. She'll think about how much she could use Peter to lean on right now. She'll think about the possibility that they won't find a cure for Marco and that his last memory of her will be her betraying his physical safety to Kang.
So she doesn't think. She digs, she pulls, and she waits for Rory.
[trigger warning]
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She snorts. Kang hasn't said it can't happen.
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As social as he was on the ship, despite the people that he considered to be friends or family, it wasn't the same as having someone from home. He still felt very lonely, but he tried not to let it show much. He wasn't the only one, after all, and he had to keep up hope. Having a bronze dragon around just felt like added insult to injury, though, and even before finding out about that, the length of time he'd been the only one of his kind awake had begun to get to him.
"Doesn't make me feel much better. What next, a Solamnic? Maranta, before Thes killed him?"
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"And what, are you going to let that fear dictate your mood? Iniss showed up here, what next? Visser Three? Elfangor again? It's a tough situation, Kang, but it's not something in your power to change right now. It's not something stressing about will change."
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He smiled wryly, "I know it's pointless; I'm just being a depressing bastard right now. Happens sometimes."
He glanced at Karen still watching the movie and sat in silence for a few seconds, debating, and then he said rather abruptly, "I've never told anyone why we hate metallics so much willingly. It's more than being on opposite sides of the war."
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She drums against the edge of her coffee mug. "You know anything you say to me will be kept in absolute confidence. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'm listening."
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"They abandoned us, and that's just the first thing they did to us."
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"During the war, they killed us. That's to be expected, of course. It's war. However, when they killed us, they called it 'mercy'. They called us perversions, and thought they were doing us a favor." That just made it all the worse.
"One of our stories is about a patrol of draconians during the war who came across a village of old elves. They weren't afraid, and made every attempt to make the patrol comfortable while they were staying there. The mage that was accompanying them knew something was up, but all he could pick up was a desire to help. Shortly into their stay, the draconians started getting headaches, and having strange dreams. One of them got headaches so bad he collapsed. And the next day... he started changing. Whatever spell had been cast wasn't strong enough to change him completely, though, so he was trapped between forms, and killed." He looked down at the table, frowning. "The elves weren't really elves. They were dragons, silvers and golds. They were trying to get their children back, trying to change the draconians into the dragons they would have been. The magic didn't work, though, and they killed the entire patrol; before they did so, they said it was out of love, and for the better. They couldn't accept their children the way they were."
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He let out a short growl, "And that's why we hate them so much. It's completely unforgivable."
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