trans_9 | Aaaaaaaargh! [Open]

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Aaaaaaaargh! [Open]

Through the City paced a blood elf paladin.

Well. Not paced... more like rampaged. Sword in his hands, the sin'dorei stalked darkly down the more crowded streets fronted by damaged building, walking a good sight faster than a normal constitutional should warrant.

More ominously, his face was a blank mask, but his actions spoke of absolute fury at best. Where a piece of rubble or an abandoned object stood in his way, he hacked at it with his sword until it collapsed into chunks. Where an innocent piece of structure stood out in some way along the crumbled buildings, he paused a second to gather holy energy in his hands, then with a gesture slammed it violently into that object, more often that not causing it to collapse.

In short, the paladin was not happy.

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"Ah-ha...your cognisphere lit up like a flashlight in a darkened room. Flattering (to say the least)," she remarked, folding her hands atop her lap.

"And no (you may not claim it), but it'd be silly to think that others didn't hold you to a higher moral ground, (moreso) than the rest of the regular population. Such is the life of a hero..." She paused and her lips rose in a wry smirk. "...Lunatic or not. Besides that! One expects others to be upset about losing another. If you weren't bothered, I think I might have actually been a bit worried."

What did you expect? She can read his mind. Unless she was willfully failing to notice it, she surely had to know by now he liked her a lot.

It's complicated. It really is better for her to be in the pods. Mar sighed quite physically, shoulders slumping a little. And Azerothian heroes also traffic with demons, or are the malicious undead, so the standards are a bit odd. The Blood Knights themselves were built off of stealing the holy energy out of a sacred being we'd imprisoned, originally. Not exactly the moral high ground, that.

Oh, she'd noticed. Telepaths (at least, in her experience) had to hold themselves to a higher standard of politeness, though. It'd be rude, otherwise.

"I'm not sure, actually. I am, however, glad that my presence could cheer you up (generally the opposite with most)." She sat still as he spoke, and crossed her legs at the ankles to avoid fidgeting with them.

"Pardon my exclamation of proclaiming your people's idea of what a paladin is, as ass-backwards. And while I can't empathize with the lose of your sibling (considering my own psipsychopathic kin), I certainly do sympathize with you."

I don't see how anyone could fail to be cheered up by you, he said as he came over to stand not far away from directly below where she sat. But then, that's the whole other-people-find-the-mind-thing-weird thing.

A little flash of regret and self-annoyance, there; he hadn't meant to remind her of her own family problems. It really IS better this way, but no matter how many times I tell myself that, somehow it doesn't make me miss her less.

"True enough--the whole mind being the last true bastion of privacy and all. Well, to (relatively) normal people, anyways,"she said, tapping a slender finger against her temple.

Have a mental pat of comfort, Mar. She appreciates the thought, though her family issues are really a non-issue at the moment.

"It probably won't help any, but I'd go as far to say that that's the way it should be. Would you have honestly (honestly, honestly?) been okay if you felt nothing of her returning to be one with 'Mother'?"

I'm supposed to be the UNselfish one! Mar said, openly pouting. I think I would be the person I'm SUPPOSED to be if I only felt good about it.

"Ah...I see. I suppose in (an atypical) sense it's selfish, but most people tend to be, as is. I wouldn't beat myself up too much over it, though. Feelings are notoriously difficult to change (unless you're a telepath)."

It's just frustrating. And I hate frustrating. It leeches into my perfect implacable aura of cheerfulness and good mood.

He kicked a stone in the street, a little embarrassed by it all now. She might have liked seeing it, but it still felt a little awkward to be caught doing it.

She watched him from her ledge above, a small, amused smile gracing her lips.

"In that case, it's probably not something we can simply leave as is. Despite my desist from violating the (oh-so-precious) bubble of personal space (seclusion) of others, you seem to be shopping in the neighborhood for a hug."

There's nothing precious about my personal space bubble. But it WOULD be a really nice change to have someone in it for affection rather than out of a desire to rip various parts of my body off and arrange them in an artful collage on the floor.

"Oh, no worries there. I haven't been psychotic enough to do something like that (though in reality I'd have you rending your own limbs) in quite some time!"

With a flick of her fingers, she motioned him to where she sat and pointed below with her free hand. The first floor was littered with broken furniture and a variety of rubble. A crumbling staircase against the wall led up to the second floor. It looked safe--mostly.

I've been mind-controlled before, and my experience is that it's really hard to make someone attack themself, he said as he clambered up the staircase without any regard for safety, or comparisons between her slim and unencumbered form and his armored weight as it concerned structural stress. Attack teammates, sure. Walk off a cliff, no problem.

"Oh?" she questioned, pushing herself to her feet. "I've been mind-controlled before, too and my experience was just a tad (a lot) different. I've even got rad scars to show for it."

Because cracking a joke about her disfigurement would obviously make his comment just a little less awkward. On her end, at least.

Maybe different circumstances, Mar said, who had not forgotten about her situation, but openly suspected that anyone who dared challenge her on that front now would sorely regret the attempt. Like age at the time it happened.

Anyway, he made it up without dying to collapsing terrain, and he considered that a victory.

"True enough. I'd like to think that if I were older at the time I would have been able to resist his will (though these thoughts are really only fanciful self-delusions at best) and hold my own."

By the time he'd reached the top, she was already standing nearby, a slanted smile adorning her face. She raised her arms slightly and motioned the elf over with a nod of the head.

"Hey, baby," he said, lifting an eyebrow in the deliberately-least-suave manner ever. And thus having ruined the moment a bit, he stepped in to accept, and receive, the hug.

"Don't call them 'fanciful self-delusions'," he said quietly. "They're half-dream, half-goal, and dreams and goals are what make people grow strong."

That earned him a laugh in the least and a small pat on the shoulder, as if to say 'that'll do, boy'. She leaned into the hug and silently contemplated his words before replying.

"Then, what do you suppose your (half) dream, (half) goal is?"

"To make sure no one else ever suffers or is in pain again," he said. "But... not in one of those creepy ways where I try to kill everyone or mess with their minds or whatever. Just good old-fashioned happy lives for everyone else."

Which was why he was so damn frustrated. The situation on the ship had been a bad one for his sister to be in. Returning to the pods was the best thing for her, and he knew it. Wishing she hadn't gone back was not only selfish, it ran directly counter to that stated goal.

"My, my, that definitely is noble and selfless of you (in which you hardly give yourself enough credit). But...I think I can see (or 'hear' as it were) where your disappointment lies. Regardless of the situation, it means something to know that there's...well, someone else out there like you. Someone close, even."

She hadn't been quite as lucky...unlucky? to find a familiar face amongst those who rose from the pods. But she wasn't sure if she'd want to see most of the people she knew from the Superhomeys, anyways. Most of them left a lot to be desired--not only as heroes, but as people.

"Rime is as far from being like me as possible," Mar said with a chuckle, "right up to the part where I'm still alive. And yet, still my sister."

His only family. Not quite his only LIVING family, but.

"Sometimes that's the case though, isn't it? My sibling and I were very different as well. Though the 'still living' portion is worrisome, given the (time-altering?) nature of the pods."

At the implication that her oh-so-beloved brother might return, with everything that implied, Mar's mind went smooth and clear and cold as glass over ice at arctic midnight.

"If he shows up," the paladin said, incongruously cheerful, "I'll make sure he understands he should seriously reconsider his life choices."

She wasn't sure if it was the cheerful way he spoke those words, the rather sudden change of his cognisphere, or, despite the jovial attitude, the subtle serious nature of his threat. Whichever it was, it instantly brought a smile to her face; one that was not only partially amused and surprised, but also wholly earnest.

"If...that does ever come to pass, I might just have to leave it up to you, lest I find myself imprisoned. I fear (I know) I'll commit some atrocity since I haven't quite been forgiving enough to prune the hatred for that controlling, psipsychotic (fucker)from my mind.

"Oh!" Mar said. "NOW I get the whole 'you aren't totally perfect and that relieves me' thing!"

"Oh yeah, that's what I meant, buddy. What, did you think it was an insult?" She grinned. ."I already know how (perfectly) imperfect I am, being a faux good girl and all. You don't often see the real good people admitting they're anything less than perfect, usually."

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seesbosscrotch - 2012-05-06 15:07 (UTC) - Expand

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