http://vissernone.livejournal.com/ (
vissernone.livejournal.com) wrote in
trans_92011-09-04 11:24 pm
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
An Unexploded Shell Inside a Cell [Open]
She thought her life would be different by now, but she's a prisoner again. Voluntary, she guesses, which makes it a little bit different than the first time. At least she can blink on her own this time. Not that she's using her body to do much good.
Ironically, she almost always looked better when she was a more total prisoner. Without her makeup and hair clips and changes of clothes to arrange herself into some approximation of health, without even a mirror to confirm her suspicions, she looks a wreck. Dark circles line her reddened eyes; her hair is unbrushed and falls in tangled clumps over her face; chapped, bloodied lips and fingernails bitten down to the flesh speak to her uneasy transition back into captivity.
Eva's given up all attempts to look 'okay'. She ripped a man's face open with her bare fingers. She's been a long road away from 'okay' for a while now, but she spent too long mistaking her anger and stubbornness for strength and resilience to recognize it. She's wised up now.
She really wants a drink right now. Instead she has some books - selected poems by Pablo Neruda and an anthology of poetry by women poets in the Andes - and a pillow and blanket. She's curled up on the cot with the former book in her hand, but drifting in and out of sleep. Her breath comes lazy and heavy as she alternately reads, dreams, and watches the door to the brig with heavy-lidded eyes, looking for nothing.
Ironically, she almost always looked better when she was a more total prisoner. Without her makeup and hair clips and changes of clothes to arrange herself into some approximation of health, without even a mirror to confirm her suspicions, she looks a wreck. Dark circles line her reddened eyes; her hair is unbrushed and falls in tangled clumps over her face; chapped, bloodied lips and fingernails bitten down to the flesh speak to her uneasy transition back into captivity.
Eva's given up all attempts to look 'okay'. She ripped a man's face open with her bare fingers. She's been a long road away from 'okay' for a while now, but she spent too long mistaking her anger and stubbornness for strength and resilience to recognize it. She's wised up now.
She really wants a drink right now. Instead she has some books - selected poems by Pablo Neruda and an anthology of poetry by women poets in the Andes - and a pillow and blanket. She's curled up on the cot with the former book in her hand, but drifting in and out of sleep. Her breath comes lazy and heavy as she alternately reads, dreams, and watches the door to the brig with heavy-lidded eyes, looking for nothing.
no subject
"And you just got done telling me you didn't trust yourself as a tactical officer. Sounds a lot like a precautionary measure to me."
no subject
She shakes her head. "The resignation's precautionary. The brig time isn't."
no subject
He frowned a little. "Speaking of your son, apparently the rumor mill has already been set into motion about your incarceration here, and I believe quite a few people have misconceptions about it. As per usual."
no subject
"Oh, joy. The rumors aren't scandalous, are they? I'm not responsible for Councilman Superman's death, am I?" 'Councilman Superman'. That's a clunky moniker.
no subject
"Oh, you are. And you're having an illicit affair with Kang. Also, you stole forty cakes. And that's terrible."
no subject
Eva stares for a minute, then bursts out laughing. "You're being serious right now?"
no subject
"I honestly don't think I could make something like that up. My imagination isn't quite that awe-inspiring."
no subject
no subject
Nope. Coming up empty.
"Anyway, Marco seemed a little on edge." Which was a bit of an understatement. The last he'd checked, Eva's son had been upgraded a few notches up from 'slightly screamy'.
no subject
She twists her lower lip up under her teeth. "I was hoping against that. He hasn't threatened to hurt anyone, has he?"
no subject
He looked slightly askance. "...well. I'm sure he didn't mean it."
no subject
"Besides, that would make for your second botched date with Alastirra, if that gossip were flying around."
She heaves a grumpy sigh. "As long as he doesn't get put in here, I guess. You'd think he'd know better by now."
no subject
"Put in here for threatening people? The way some crew members throw promises of bodily harm around, the brig should be brimming with them by now."
no subject
"Well, if anyone thinks he might actually follow through on it, then he might end up here. For the safety of whomever he's threatening. Although they might just end up here, if they're smart. I'm a prisoner but at the very least I'm incredibly safe."
no subject
"Oh, well. Next time the ship is under attack, I'll remember to run to your location if I need cover."
no subject
no subject
"Eva, I know we've only met just recently, but... when I was on Earth, I had to hurt people. A lot." He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Not always for the best of reasons. If you ever need anyone to talk to..."
no subject
"When you say not only for the best reasons...do you think that's something I'd relate to?"
no subject
It's hard for him to revisit that past, but it's harder to tell someone else about it. The words come out blunt and harsh. "So I killed everyone inside."
Another pause.
"You might argue that that's what I do all the time, kill people who don't really have a way to fight back. But I didn't do it because I had to protect someone or complete an objective. I did it because I wanted to get back at them. I could have stopped, but I didn't want to. I didn't even bother trying."
It was true that the DRF did terrible things. They followed a power-mad autocrat, executed people in the streets, killed billions in their thirst for power and the promise of rebirth and immortality. But it didn't mean everyone in its ranks was evil, and in his actions, he'd revealed himself not as a guardian, but as a killer. Like them.
no subject
"Yes, I think maybe we have more in common than I originally surmised." She gives him a grim smile. "I risked Marco's life for revenge, once. And getting it made me feel no different. Did it help you?"
She doubts it did. It's easy to trick yourself into thinking violence is what you want when all you really want is some way to turn back time.
no subject
"It..." he began, then stopped. "It didn't help afterward. But while I was doing it..."
While he was in the thick of it, snapping bone and incinerating enemy combatants with their own incendiaries, it had been so tempting to just stop thinking and never, ever start again. He wasn't sure if it was something his creators had instilled in him, or some essential flaw in himself. Maybe both.
no subject
Her head's been stormy for twelve years now. That's a lot of time to crave peace.
"Were you alone? Or was Fuyu with you?" She asks it quietly, so he knows that if he doesn't want to answer he doesn't have to. She's the one in prison, after all.
no subject
The AIs, with their added level of detachment from the real world and their personality biases toward levelheadedness and calm, served as a means of support. They were more likely to feel sorrow than anger.
no subject
no subject
He didn't sound like he was entirely talking about Eva.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
/wrap?
wrap!