Entry tags:
In The End
CHARACTERS: Carata and others
WHERE: Concordia - Bearings and Elsewhere
WHEN: Day :015 and onward
SUMMARY: For all your calm, chill, cheerfully nihilistic needs.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.
(OOC: This will serve as a catchall for anyone who needs Carata for anything! Feel free to throw up a starter or send me a message with a request for one.))
WHERE: Concordia - Bearings and Elsewhere
WHEN: Day :015 and onward
SUMMARY: For all your calm, chill, cheerfully nihilistic needs.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.
(OOC: This will serve as a catchall for anyone who needs Carata for anything! Feel free to throw up a starter or send me a message with a request for one.))
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And so has Carata been thus far, Ilde almost doesn't realize that she's there and when she does it is too late to escape her notice. ]
Have a day in mind?
Still, it's somewhat distracting, even for Carata. She had become used to having only one loud mind around her. It had been just her and Nirad for long enough for her to become accustomed to it, as if it had always been that way.It means that she finds it difficult to ignore Ilde, especially here, without other minds to dull the pull of hers. She knows there is a danger in allowing emotions to consume, especially for them. So she has little inclination to ignore her.]
Hello, Ilde.
never 8')
Hello. [ A frown, glancing off over the city. ] Shall I go?
[ She should any way, such feelings aren't good for the plants, she firmly believes. She's hurting them as much as she's bleeding out onto anyone whose mind comes close enough. ]
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[It's an answer to her question, yes, and the edge of thought she catches as it slips quickly past. She was a danger to no one here but herself. Certainly not the plants, certainly not Carata, who lets the feelings wash over her but finds it easy not to let them pull her under. She has weighted herself like a stone, or perhaps made herself so light she simply drifts across the surface like a leaf.]
I think it would be better if we talked.
[She thinks that Ilde is clever enough to agree with her, an opinion as unguarded as most of Carata's.]
Come, lets sit. You can share your mind with me.
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Very well.
[ She decides it would be more unseemly to refuse, and so she comes and she sits.
Sour grapes.]Tell me of yourself, Carata.
[ Because she is not yet ready to discuss herself. ]
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As Ilde settled she folds her own hands on her lap, leans back slightly against the low concrete wall, considering the request. It was a simple one, but it wasn't likely to help the current situation, even more evident from this close distance. Still, there was little danger in humoring her, so she takes a breath, stretches her legs out in front of her.]
Alright. What would you like to know? About my old life? Or my time in the Nest?
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Like a murmur, another voice begins beneath Carata's. Masculine and rhythmic, deep and dark. ]
Yes. What world did you come from, how did you live? How long has it been since you left it.
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She she does speak she does more, feelings easily washing across, the scent of salt, the sound of waves. Cool air, the sun filtered through clouds.]
I was born by the sea. My home was a retreat. A place of learning and serenity. Faith, of a kind. Our island was isolated, and there weren't very many of us. Visitors would come to learn, and to find peace if they could.
[The stone class room, the floating ships over the sea, the long hours of silence. The understanding of impermanence. Embracing what others would consider helplessness. She had been content, most often, and the times she wasn't had passed in time.]
We were very fortunate. My time there ended- Oh. Twenty years ago? More, perhaps. I do not pay much attention to time.
[Of that sort, at least. Of the past. Of what was lost.]
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So at odds with what Carata presents to her. The warm island and glittering expanse. Dissonant, but Ilde takes it for what it is: an example of what her fear does her perceptions. She tenses her jaw, trying to focus through it. ]
Where did you think your life would take you, before all of this?
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[A hundred thousand idle thoughts, let to pass by, floating on the wind like errant seeds, some of which might, eventually, fall on unfamiliar soil and sprout. Or not.]
But I was not married to anything in particular. I would go wherever the path lead.
[She'd never imagined it would lead her to where it had, but that was the thing about life. You could not predict it. It occurred, random and inescapable. You had to adapt. To move with it. She had moved further than most.]
Where did you think yours would take you?
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[ Certitude, and her meaning is not a euphemistic one. ]
My world was doomed, before the Enemy came to it. I am certain it is gone now, Dreus would never have allowed that scourge to take it.
[ She had been trying not to think about him, but he cannot be erased. The more she frees herself from his poison, the more aware she is of it lingering. ]
It was inevitable. His fires burned more brightly every passing day. I should never have turned twenty one.
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That is where we all end.
[The one constant, in the entire universe, in every universe, was death. All things died. No matter how powerful or unbreakable they seemed. People. Gods. Planets. Stars. The Universe itself. A surety, one that could not be avoided. It was why it was so important to live while you were able.]
Perhaps. I doubt the enemy lingered when you left. You paint it as a place with very little to offer. [One that collapsed without the guiding hand of their hunters.]
But you did. You never imagined anything else?
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Never. Everything was very small, very short.
[ Everything was brutal and dire, it makes it difficult for her to manage her emotions in a life with so much more time and space. To her, Petre was an immediate and terrible threat. Rather than something which could be molded and dealt with. So it lingers. Too hot, too dire. ]
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It is time to change then, isn't it? Whoever you were there was made to survive that place. If she can't survive this one, maybe you should leave her there. If she only imagined death, give it to her. Become someone who imagines something else.
[Carata hadn't done it as bluntly as that. She'd changed what she needed to, but she'd never had to abandon her whole self so abruptly. The her of her past was not the her of now, and she had become a different person, but it had been in subtle stages. Still, she had been taught that at times such a gradual thing was not what was needed. Sometimes you needed a blade.]
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She stares at nothing for a moment, and thinks of dying. She has not cried since she was a child, and she most certainly won't begin now, but a vast empty filling exudes from her, the place where that emotion can no longer manifest. An abrupt lack.
A sigh. ]
Yes. I think on this often.
[ But something holds her back from making it a reality. It will come, one day. ]
What do you think your purpose is, now?
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It hasn't changed. For as random as life is, as many things there are that you cannot change, you can control yourself. So, wherever life takes me, it is my responsibility to seek contentment with it, and to help others to as well.
[She lived the best she could. Sought the joy in simplicity. Her people were not blind, they knew it was difficult to be content- to be at peace- when you lacked, when you were starving or suffering or your unhappiness was too deep. So it was their choice to help where they could, to the extent that they could, and no more.]
Tell me, Ilde, what's bothering you?
[Like she hadn't felt it. Saying it, though, mattered at times. She reaches out her hand to lay it across Ilde's own, telegraphed and slow so that, if she chose, she could easily avoid it.]
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Everything was laid out before me. I served a great destiny, and in it I could do no wrong. I would die as the one shining example of humanity. Faultless. Untouched.
[ She's twenty years old. Destined to redeem mankind's soul as they all died together in one great glorious burst of fire to atone for all the wrong they had done... Perfection. Martyrdom. They are heavy enough to bear, without now... being free of it all. The freedom is more frightening than anything else. Most of the time. ]
Everything I know was taught to me by a madman who saw me as an angel.
[ She stops for a moment, another place where tears would go if she were emotionally functional but long years of constant anxiety have robbed her of it. She works only in extremes, either this abrupt lack or overflowing with more than she can tolerate. ]
Without him... without his control and his power... [ She's struggling for the words. ] I have to take his place. To myself.
[ She puts her free hand on her chest, staring deeply at Carata, wondering if she understands.
Power. And control. Her inability to feel secure makes her dangerous. ]
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She would find little comfort in hearing that the control she was looking for- that absolute control- it wasn't possible. Not in a place like this. Not for a person like her. Which was right, good, but no comfort when that's all she knew to want.]
A frightening thing. [A pause, her fingers curled light and warm over Ilde's]
There are many things that may happen, good and bad. To dwell on a single possibility will blind you to others. Be open, if you can. You are not alone, for now.
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[ She agrees, it's all too true that she has a brood she is close with and others who she cherishes. But what will that do to her, her desire to keep them?
She looks back out over the city. ]
I hate Petre, the blonde boy with the sneer. He is a parasite. Why is that deceiving, flesh-eating little monster considered one of us.
[ Although declaring her hate, her tone is quite calm now. ]
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Because he is. You may not like it, and you don't have to like him, but he has a right to this life, the same as the rest of us.
[She didn't mind Petre much. He was childish, simple in many ways. Dangerous, certainly, but no more than many other Hosts. She thought, with the right encouragement, he could do good things.
Or maybe not.]
I suggest you avoid him, if he bothers you. I believe you would he happier.
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I am ensnared to him. He has ties to some I value most. I do not worry for Kylo Ren, and I can do nothing to remove him from Angel.
[ So for now they're stuck. ]
I will resolve him, one day.
[ She means fucking kill him. ]
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[And if not-
All things change. It's very likely she won't have to resolve him. Hosts who could not make peace with the rest often suffered for it. None of them were guaranteed survival, and every single thing was guaranteed and eventual death.]
Whatever happens, it will be okay.
day: 021.
( I need to talk to you, ) [ is the single interjection, clipped in an attempt to keep the tumultuous mess of emotions behind it to himself. ]
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I am here.
[His attempt is not quite successful, but she's not discouraged. The sun is a warm against her shoulders, a certain sleepiness over her mind.]
Is this way alright, or would you like to see me?
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( I'll come to you, ) [ The less contact between minds the better. Bellamy continually tells himself that he's less obvious if he isn't speaking directly into someone's head, as if his facial expressions and continued mind bleed aren't just as revealing. ] ( Where are you? )
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As to where she was, her back was to the window, a blanket pulled over her lower legs, the warm pale tones she'd set the walls of her room to, a single flowering plant on the side table and it's ever present scent, familiar and alien. An invitation of images.]
I will wait.
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I can come back.
[ Uncomfortable, feeling an intruder in spite of how urgent the topic at hand is for him. He's pursuing a dead end. He doesn't doubt what Lexa told him. But he has to at least question further, try and fail rather than sit with the knowledge that he's going to live here and die here, surrounded by the Nest and not by his people. ]
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[She is looking over her shoulder, out the window at her back when Bellamy appears, turning back to look at him only after he's spoken, a smile couched in the corner of her eyes.
She could almost see his reluctance and his need battling before her, if only in the indecisive set of his shoulders. He was quite young, wasn't he?]
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[ Time wouldn't change anything. Bellamy isn't even sure time could soften the blow of this realization. And he isn't sure she has any answers for him, or even the beginning of a suggestion about how to live with the crush of separation. ]
Lexa told me what you told her.
[ His voice is strained under the effort of keeping himself from raising it. ]
That we can't go back.
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[There's a pad in her hands, a thing digital thing that she sets aside after a moment, pulling her knees up to her chest, out from under the blanket. She peers at him over the top of them, expression mild.]
You see, if you were ever to become strong enough to go back, without dying or bringing death with you, you wouldn't be the same person who wanted to return.
[There's no hint of sadness in her, she's not wistful, longing. It is a fact, and one that seems to bother her very little.]
You can only ever move forward.
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[ Foolishly, he'd assumed there would always be a way back. This couldn't possibly be permanent. It had been a mistake. He realizes that now. ]
How are you so...calm about it?
[ Lexa had talked about them giving themselves over to the Nest. Was this what it came out to? Complete calm in the face of what Bellamy considered an incredible loss? ]
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I was raised to understand our place in the world, the universe, is never guaranteed. All things change. To focus on loss, to let it drag us down, is to deny ourselves any chance of happiness. We should seek contentment in the present rather than longing for the past.
[She a smile quirks across her face, slightly crooked.]
It was not always easy. But I think it has served me well.
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Bellamy doesn't mean to project, but the word swims up, sticks and vibrates between them. Let go of the past? Let go of Octavia? Of Clarke? Of his people? It would be easier to sever an arm. ]
Didn't you have family? How can you just forget about them?
[ What was she, before she was here? ]
I can't be content without them.
[ Though some small part of him wonders, could he? ]
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You are not unique in that thought, nor are you unique in loss.
[Many countless people, people he could not even imagine had felt that way. Among the other Hosts here, he would find that sentiment repeated. But it was possible. They had not been designed to simply stop, because of change, because of loss.]
Yes, I did. And I haven't forgotten. But my time with them is now nothing but memories. Pleasant ones. I was a different person then, than I am now, and doubtlessly they are, as well. As I loved them, I want them to be content, as they would want for me.
[Her eyes remain fixed on him, a singular focus, without judgement-]
Could you stand for them to be happy without you?
[What is in your heart Bellamy? Can you face it?]
no subject
What Carata is presenting is so beyond alien to Bellamy. He doesn't know how to do what she's asking, what feels similar to cutting ties with everything he's ever held dear. Consigning them to memories without any hope of revisiting? Bellamy takes that like a knife to the chest, flinching from it. ]
I don't even know if they're going to survive.
[ It's difficult to be at peace in the face of such uncertainty. Or so Bellamy will try to pretend. It would never be easy, separating himself from his people. But happy isn't even a part of the equation yet. Bellamy can't tell whether or not they're going to be slaughtered at the hands of an AI. ]
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[It is a great mistake to believe anyone capable of that. Some things you could stop, others you were powerless to, and in the end you could not know which was which. Better to understand that from the beginning and accept that fact. Better to know the fragility of all things.]
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How can you talk about it like that?
[ Where does she get this level of serenity? It's a calm that Bellamy can't emulate. ]
I need to know if my sister survives.
[ And Clarke. Murphy. Miller and Bryan. Kane. Bellamy's mind stalls at the thought of Pike, but there's attachment there too. He tells himself it's enough that they survive, whether or not he ever sees them again, but truthfully, even that bit of information won't be enough. ]
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[Blunt. Her kindness was boundless but for her, the facts were not cruelty. They simply were. And in this case-]
You need breath. Food. Water. You want to know if she's alive, but you can't. The same as all Hosts.
[He props her chin against her wrist, tips her head. The same as many people who were not hosts. The same as countless, across planets and universes, and endless expanse.]
You know when you left she was, and that if you stayed she wouldn't be. So leave it as it is. Otherwise you're just torturing yourself for no reason. Over something you can't change.
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[ Though she's right; the complications Bellamy's outlining are self-inflicted, but even knowing that isn't enough to dissuade him from clinging to them. It's in the blood. Bellamy feels everything too deeply, and this loss is no exception.
It is a loss. It's a loss as sure as if he'd died, or if they'd died, or if ALIE had consumed them all. ]
I can't be like you, [ true in more ways than just the immediate reference to her peaceable nature, the seeming acceptance of her severance from wherever she had once come from. ] I don't think it's possible.
[ And he doesn't want it. He doesn't want the Hive to consume him, to be a Host in whatever sense that word means. But he'll skirt around that truth for the moment. ]
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Still, she could only speak the truth as she knew it.]
Maybe not. But you can't go back, so you will have to figure out how to handle that, in your own way.
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Yeah.
[ It feels like defeat. ]
I appreciate the explanation.
[ He's trying hard to keep his tone level, not to explode with anger at Carata. It's not her fault. After everything he's done, the mistakes he's made, Bellamy's trying to be careful in how he assigns blame. He steps backward, angling towards escape. ]
Thanks.
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Of course. Do tell me if you need anything else.
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Alright.
[ Unlikely, perhaps, but the offer is still appreciated. ]
Thank you.
[ At which point he hightails it out of the room, because who really needs an awkward goodbye? ]