An Unexploded Shell Inside a Cell [Open]

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

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.

Comments

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

"Did I solicit your opinion?" Her voice is a snap, with the commanding air of someone who's used to barking orders. Or at least having them barked through her vocal cords.

[jesus_is_gundam]

"It wasn't an opinion," he responded evenly. But at least it was starting to creep into his head that this conversation was Not Going Well, to put it mildly.

"Was it your destruction, salvation, or something else you hoped to find in there?" Peace? Pain? A place to hide?

What did she want for herself?

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

"It's none of your business what I hoped to find here, if I were looking for anything at all, which I haven't been." Honestly, the conversation was Not Going Well before either of them exchanged words. She only keeps it up now out of stubbornness, and because she suspects that even if she stopped arguing he'd still stand there. Staring at her.

[jesus_is_gundam]

His expression softened slightly, which would probably seem odd, given the way this conversation was going.

"Or perhaps you don't know." Which would only make her situation all the more worse.

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

"Don't know what?" She reads his softening as him being patronizing, as if he's about to be benevolent and show her the wrongs of his ways. The last thing she wants in this cell is to feel condescended to.

[jesus_is_gundam]

"What you were hoping to find in this place." He was remarkably consistent, if nothing else. But he wasn't going to patronize her, he simply felt bad that she was making herself suffer for no reason, a reason she couldn't identify, or a reason she didn't want to let herself admit to.

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

"I wasn't hoping to find anything." She gets the feeling that this conversation has become so circular it's akin to a Moebius strip. "I'm going to read my book now. Please leave."

[jesus_is_gundam]

"If that's truly the case, then your being here accomplishes nothing. You won't change, no matter how much you punish yourself." Which means that he probably can't help her, and thus no longer has a reason to be there.

[vissernone.livejournal.com]

"Oh, you're just a ray of sunlight," she mutters into the spine of her book. "I don't hear you leaving yet. Go."

[a_mere_human]

That's because he moves as silently as he does anything else. But he's already on his way out. He thought he might have something to offer her later on, but he's realized that he's wrong, and she has nothing he wants.