[closed]

[erbier]

CHARACTERS: Ilde & Murphy
WHERE: Station 72
WHEN: Day :036
SUMMARY: Hey-o.
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as necessary.

[ She had only left the Station for a few days, and already in her absence another clutch of eggs had hatched. She had greeted them on the platform. Like each clutch, they were strange and disparate, wide-eyed, sullen with the magnitude of their choices. She was used to presenting herself to them -- It does not feel so long ago that she was introducing herself to John on the Bearings' rooftop.

She feels him as he nears the Station; a low familiar murmuring she does not immediately place. 'A change in the wind', as sayings went. Even in the burned world they had such superstitions, such omens. By the time he is nearing their hangar, she is more certain of who has returned.

A surprise. No one else has deemed it necessary to return, too busy with their silly side quest. But then, did she particularly wish to speak with any of them? Would she have even bothered to leave her garden.

She does so, for John. Her haphazard curls slung low at her neck by a strip of tough fabric, dirt on her hands and knees and up her shins. She's only just noticing this as she follows his trail through the halls after him, brushing off her hands absentmindedly. ]

John. Is everything alright?

[ She can't really think of any other reason he'd have come back here, on his own. ]

Comments

[wrackful]

[It isn't that Murphy had forgotten Ilde was on the station, or that he hadn't picked up on her mind being nearby. That was practically instinctive with all of them, at this point. But maybe he'd been too focussed on getting to the Nesting Deck, or just hadn't expected her to seek him out, and at the sound of her voice he startles, looking a little uncomprehending as he turns sharply to face her.]

Yeah. [He says, after a breath, his mind oriented again. There's an urge, small and strange, to reach for her. He ignores it, even as he wonders where the hell it had come from.] Everything's fine. Everyone's still doing whatever, mission crap.

[He waves a hand, a loose gesture that's supposed to encompass Shril, everyone down there and what they're doing. Nothing messed up by him being here.]

I just-- [Need to use the pods. Need to seal over the cracks the stupid robot fighting had left in him, pull everything back together before it split further, turned into cutting shards again, miserable and hurting. But admitting to all of that sticks in his throat, swelling bitter. He couldn't find the words anyway.] Had to come back.

[erbier]

[ She watches him. Aware of him more acutely here, with the distraction of the other broods at a distance. She can almost feel the way he warps in the center, when she diverts him. Wavering, like a sheet of metal exposed to too much heat, bindings coming lose between atoms. She views the exterior of him in this way, the shields he has cobbled together over time have an inorganic tang to them, even if they may have since fused with flesh and bone... ]

You're upset.

[ She decides, in defiance of what he says to her. Her eyes flicker off down the hallway, wondering... The tensions of the Station make it clear where he was headed. There is breath being held, halls expanded open to get John what he needs without obstruction. Her own words hang in her throat. Why should he talk to her. He doesn't have to tell her anything. They've argued more often than not when speaking to one another.

But they were companions, all the same. Trying to find their way. ]

I can walk with you?

[wrackful]

[Upset. It isn't the word he would have chosen, but he can't deny it, and his mind pulses, a malcontent churning behind the shields he's been trying so hard to keep in place. For all the good it did him.]

Right. [He nods, mouth pressing tight in the corners.] Can't even fake it anymore, can I? Bug just pours it all out there for everyone to get a good look.

[Harsh, but the bitterness is quiet. Tired and resigned, burning up almost immediately, and he frowns, lifting a hand to rub his thumb at his brow.]

Sorry. I don't mean it at you.

[He should tell her to go back to whatever she was doing - gardening, he'd guess, from the dirt on her. More productive uses of her time. But he doesn't want her to go. Would like her to walk with him. He'd spent the last day on Shril desperate to be alone, away from the other hosts, but now he's reminded there's nothing worse. And Ilde probably knows that, like how she'd known he was upset, all the other pieces in him that rose to meet her when she called. Maybe that's why he always felt unsteady around her, balancing on the line between wary and safe. Because it was like, somehow, she knew all the edges and knots of him already.]

[erbier]

[ She doesn't really react, just continues to watch him, observing the rise and fall of his emotion. He is not just himself, in that moment, he is Ren pacing, jaw grit, he is Dreus, flames writhing, and he is herself, bitter and vicious for more control than she has. She's silent another beat, before inclining her head an acceptance as she comes forward to him. He hasn't told her to go, so she doesn't. ]

You came to rest. [ She nods down the hallway, to signal they continue that way. ] Nothing to fake.

[ She knows that isn't what he meant, but she's excusing him from his outburst, smoothing it over as if it doesn't bother her. It doesn't. An apology goes a long way with her, if you understand what you're apologizing for. ]

How goes the tournament?

[ An open ended question, he can tell her what is happening to him, or not. She'll walk with him either way. ]

[wrackful]

[It feels like there's more he could - should - say to that. But Ilde moves to walk beside him, and in the moment it's just so much easier to accept, let it pass and follow the unspoken guidance she's offering. He'd come to rest because he feels exhausted, and right now, he doesn't have to try and pull up any dregs of energy to pretend otherwise.]

Let's call it "crazier than expected". [Than even she must have expected, he thinks.] First round was dressing up and pretending to sing, second was piloting giant robots. I thought it was going to be swords and crap when we signed up. Should've guessed regular violence would be too boring for aliens.

[He was probably lucky it was this way, though. He absolutely wouldn't have gotten this far in a fighting tournament.]

[erbier]

Yes, perhaps we should have.

[ She answers, lacking the humor in her tone that someone else might have injected. She is being serious, that their group's expectations were harming them. She needs to remember that lesson, for herself, going forward. ]

Though violence is... so straightforward. Perhaps these strange trials give us some leeway towards success.

[ She's not down there, she's not participating, so she mostly just shrugs after positing this idea. ]

[wrackful]

I don't know, depends on if you think it's easier to avoid lasers cutting your head off while you're dancing, or a swordfight.

[It's not sharp. She's voiced the same thought he's had, and it's his fault she'd gotten the impression the trials weren't violent. They were. It just wasn't straightforward in the least.]

We had to wrestle in the robots, too. Pretty sure I was close to getting my head crushed in.

[Discontent stirs acutely at the memory, but it's ringed with more thorns than just another close brush with death. That, he was used to. What had happened in his head immediately after, not so much.]

[erbier]

[ If it weren't for his direct input, the pictures her imagination would conjure up of 'wrestling in robots' would be silly. Not that the whole thing hadn't actually been rather ridiculous. Still, his true experience of it keeps her understanding sharpened as he explains. The rise in his discordance pierces at the temple, her brows pull together as the pain settles there. ]

And now you've returned, head in tact.

[ But troubled. She's looking at him, searching. ]

The nesting deck can calm this, but what of next time?

[ Will he always have the luxury to return here to recenter. What of all those days upon days in Concordia? ]

[wrackful]

[Bellamy had wanted Murphy to tell him that this could wait. Anyone else and it would've just been irritation, or concern, but from Bellamy it had been more than enough to piss Murphy off. Because Bellamy knew how far Murphy could go while in pain. Without comfort. Even lacking the damn basics.

He shrugs.]

I'll deal.

[If the nesting deck wasn't an option. But it was, so he was here. It's the same for Ilde, he thinks. How she'd be down on the Waypoint with the rest of them, if the station wasn't an option. But he doesn't throw that back at her, despite how the urge rises, old defence against the discomfort of vulnerability he feels at the way she's looking at him.]

Your fear thing. [He looks forward, the walls of the station, the end of the corridor coming up.] Did it just go off one day, or did you figure it out?

[erbier]

It was there from the beginning.

[ She knows this is not the norm, she has watched others spend months searching for theirs, but her power is... so intrinsic to her. ]

I would panic, at the smallest disturbance, and my symbiote would awaken. I had never been among people in this way before. Should too many of us gather in one place, the shadows would scent us out and attack. So we traveled in small caravans across the wastes, I was often the only child. When we were taken to the palace, and I was chosen as gardener... I saw only Dreus. It was very difficult for me, to be around the others. Not merely to be connected, but to simply look at them-- Clean, healthy, talking openly with me. Everything about how different they were was too much for me, and I would bleed the fear into the air, overwhelmed. For my first few days here, it was near constant until... Until Ren and I became close.

[ She nudges a now loose strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes returned forward as she talks about a time before Murphy was there, before many of the others, and a time those who do remember choose to forget. Choose to act as though she has not come marvelously far in three months after a lifetime of suffering and solitude. ]

He replaced some of my fear with himself, merely so I could have control of it.

[wrackful]

[It's more of an answer than he'd expected, but then, she's the first person he's really asked about this. Of all the abilities people had found themselves with from their symbiotes, none of them seemed simple or straightforward. And what she says makes sense - the parts about her own fear, anyway. The last he isn't so sure about, eyes a little sharp as he glances sideways at her.]

Well, you've definitely got it now.

[Without Ren, but he doesn't say that directly. She cared about him, her grief before was evidence enough of that, even if Murphy can't think of any good way to take replacing someone's fear with yourself.]

I freaked out, at that festival in Concordia. There were more people than are even alive back on Earth. Not that I stopped and counted.

[It's an offering of understanding, more than anything. They had the desert shared between them already, but these pieces were the same, too. And her answer hadn't really been an answer for him at all, but it had been personal enough that it doesn't feel right pressing, trying to find fact in the lines of it.]

[erbier]

[ She can feel his mistrust, or perhaps she can't, merely expects it from the way everyone has reacted to her closeness with Ren. Even Mara had been baffled by their relationship, wondering at how Ilde could claim to love such a troubled soul without wanting to lay down her every dignity for him. No one wants to hear how he had take away her waterfright, leaving her instead with a calm memory of starlight glittering on water. No one wants to hear about about all the comfort taken, resting quietly in each other's company. Insignificant specks of time to all those who were not a part of it.

Her sorrow is a soft blanket of snow across her mind, hiding the tracks of where Ren had been. ]

What I mean to say is, my symbiote came in to its own as it felt it was needed. [ Another of her little dismissals, washing over something to focus elsewhere. ] Is that what has brought you home?

[wrackful]

This isn't home.

[It's the feeling of her sorrow that draws it out of him, not a hard objection or an argument against whatever she believes. Just a truth, quiet with an ache he usually manages to keep tucked away, pretend isn't there. Home was somewhere else. Someone else, loved, left behind.

Focussing elsewhere is a good plan, even if it's another place he hadn't really wanted to focus. He shrugs.]

But yeah, I guess almost being crushed inside a robot set it off. [And it is a guess, albeit a very strong one.] It's not like yours. I can't tell what it is.

[Fear for Ilde. Poison for Bellamy. Healing for Sam. Clear, easy to understand. If there was any kind of name for what had happened in Murphy's head, he didn't know it. He lifts a hand, rubbing a line in the middle of his forehead.]

And it seriously sucked when it stopped.

[erbier]

[ It's her home, and she has accepted that particular facet of things since awakening. The burned world was on the cusp of non-existence. Coming here hadn't been to save that place, it had been only to save her own life. In the heat of the moment, she had discovered she was not yet ready to die, although that was the Godking's religion. There may be nothing but ashes left now, if that, of the world she once knew. What else would Dreus have done when the enemy invaded his domain? ]

We are imperfect hosts. [ She's learned this, through her own trials. ] You have seen how my own symbiote leaves me, when I am done with it. But it lessens with time.

[ Although if he cannot truly understand what it is his symbiote does... how was he to practice it. Hmm. She'll have to think on that. ]

Be patient with yourself.

[ Her smile is faint, she knows he doesn't really need or want her advice, but there it is all the same. ]

[wrackful]

[That gets a bitter smile, sharp at the corner of his mouth.]

I don't know about where you're from, but I'm not used to having time for that.

[Patience, whether for himself or for anything else. Maybe some things would've gone better, if he had. Or maybe he just wasn't made for it: bored easily, frustrated, embittered by pain. How many times would he have to go through what he'd experienced after the match before it lessened like Ilde said? Hidden in an empty side room of the arena's guts, Bellamy hovering uncertain and concerned nearby, waiting, hoping the world would fill with meaning again. Was what he'd gotten for it even worth it, the mess of confusion and inexplicable certainty in the robots. And this, now, the result: having to come back to the station, back to the pods, just to feel okay again.]

Maybe they shouldn't have taken us, if we're so imperfect we're going to be screwed up by it all the time.

[erbier]

Then there would be no one.

[ And the Station would be left behind to mourn and die in silence. Perhaps she should say more. Maybe that he knows enough about where she is from to know full well she understands his objection. Or perhaps that there was no choice at all for them, that the Nest wished to live, and so had they as hosts. It all feels empty and unnecessary, however, in the face of the expensive emptiness that would be the death of their Hive. ]

[wrackful]

[There's a low, tight ache of sadness for that. It's his and yet not, an uncomfortable dissonance between a part of him that wouldn't want that, and the rest, which wants to be free. To go home.

But that isn't the point.]

There'll still be no one if we keep dropping comatose. [Not that he thinks he's on that path. But it has to be linked, their imperfections, glitches in the connection between them and the aliens in their heads. Fleeting snatches of concepts filter in his mind, evolution, adaptation, biology. But he'd never been much of a reader, and he's tired. He gives up on trying to follow the thoughts through, find the idea lurking in them.] Look, I know you don't know. I'm just saying, all the imperfect talk starts to sound like grade A bullshit when no one's doing anything to try patching the gaps, so us being here ends up pointless anyway.

[Pragmatism bordering on pessimism was his usual. He'd grown up on a space station that had lasted 97 years in space with no new equipment or parts to keep it floating. He knew make do, intimately. But he also knew improvement, progress, carving new ways when the old just weren't good enough anymore.]

[erbier]

[ She stops in the archway into the Nesting Deck, turning to look at him directly. ]

Perhaps.

[ But she is not willing to indulge that pessimism. The more she learns, the more she can contribute. Perhaps these little seeds merely needed to be nurtured to prevent them falling ill. And oh is that a task that she is made for. ]

[wrackful]

Right. [He smiles, just a tight pull of his mouth in the corner.] Shut up Murphy, I get it.

[Because perhaps isn't anything. Just a response to make a response. He doesn't need the mental link to tell him that. Still:]

Thanks.

[Genuine, as he moves past her into the deck. For walking with him, listening to him even if they'd eventually wound up at perhaps.]

[erbier]

[ She gives him a faint little smile in return. ]

Rest well, John.

[ He may be right, she'd prefer it if he wasn't. ]