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snowblindrpg2018-07-27 09:28 am
snowblindmods) wrote in snowblindrpg2018-07-27 09:28 am[network] @dulcedeleche; █ ███████ [MORNING 385]
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snowblindmods) wrote in snowblindrpg2018-07-27 09:28 am
NO YOU DON'T
[ She's trying to sort through it all. She's trying hard. Because Enoch is right - even if he wouldn't use the exact words, her reaction to the idea of rescue is kind of effed up.
She's kind of effed up. ]
I think... I mean, it'd make things more right than anything else I can think of.
[ Because how else is she supposed to give her life some kind of worth? Sacrifice has always been the answer, ever since she first entered the bunker as a child giving up her freedom so no one else died like her mom did.
Not that she realises that herself. She's good at dissecting the inner workings of others, but her own? Not so much. ]
Yeah, man, life happens!
Is that-...
[He cuts his own question off. Of course that's what this is about, Angel didn't correct Beckett in the slightest. And it's hard to pursue this because he sees too much of his own self-sacrificial nature in Angel's, a blind spot in his instinct to care for and heal.]
Perhaps it would be clearer to you if you could articulate why it feels more right?
no subject
(Part of him knows he's projecting; he's not nearly the manipulator Angel is but he's much better at self-examination. But he tells himself it makes sense. That it emerges from the ways in which they are alike. It keeps him feeling the connection. It's a duty, and a comfort.)
But he leaves the talking to Enoch, who is so much more qualified. Enoch who is so miraculously free of judgement. For now he's just listening - listening intently.]
no subject
[ Like Beckett, she falls silent. It's obvious how much effort this is taking - she isn't even trying to assume her usual neutral expression any more, and various degrees of discomfort flicker across her face in quick succession. It isn't quite Rhys-tier emoting, but it's startlingly unguarded. ]
I think - I said before, that when I died at home it didn't change anything? I meant that it was supposed to stop Jack from opening a Vault. With a dangerous monster inside. And that was part of what made dying okay? I was supposed to be saving the planet, making up for everything else I'd done. I was - was making things right.
[ She glances towards Beckett as she echoes his words, then looks at a particularly interesting spot on the floor instead. Look at that thing. Goddamn. ]
Then, I mean - I'm not dead, I'm here, and it turns out Jack got another siren to open the Vault so I didn't stop him at all, and my death was actually just as stupid and pointless as my whole freaking life was, and there are only a handful of people who even know that I tried to help and to the rest I'm just a picture on the desk of a dead tyrant, and --
[ Enoch probably knows bits of that, and most of it should be old news to Beckett. But then - ]
-- they call me Handsome Jill. Rhys told me. In the whole - the fake future thing. I was always kinda okay with being forgotten, I guess, but not -- I don't want that to happen again if - ugh.
[ UrghrgHGHgHHH she's tearing up and she's SO MAD ABOUT IT ]
no subject
[That half of his hug that's Angel's gets a little tighter. He thinks he understands now. That if she lived, she might...]
Angel, even if- even if we can't leave together, there's-
[His voice breaks. He can't bear the thought of being trapped without them. How can he go back to his world knowing now just how truly lonely he's been?
But this is about Angel, and he forces himself to continue.]
-you know there's someone else from your world who can try to act on your behalf. Who will know you aren't your father. And if we can, you'll have people whose testaments cannot be lost to time in us.
You don't-... I understand if you still feel you have to do this, or decide that it's too important for other reasons, but- not doing it, or never having the chance to, doesn't mean this idea of "Handsome Jill" is who you are or will be. You're a good person, and you don't need to be lost to this place to prove it.
no subject
He has never in his life wanted to hug anyone more. The feeling is mildly terrifying in its intensity. He wants to wrap her in his arms like they're another world, a just, a kind one.]
No hero writes their own story. [He speaks more quietly, almost an undertone to Enoch's more personal, emotionally clearer words. That's Enoch's gift. His is just knowledge.] That's the irony of history, I suppose, that it's written by the people who are best at silencing and erasing everyone else. You can't know what it'll say... and you can't know if you really have made a difference in the long run. Not really. You act in the moment, do what... [He glances down at his hands] what you think is right.
[Come on, though, Beckett, you know that's not a comfort. You know.]
You have to - I'm sorry, Enoch, you might not like where this will go but I'm going to say it - you have to account for yourself. What you know about yourself and what you've done. Whether in your world or... what you plan to do here. You can't determine success or failure, only whether you did what you had to to be able to look yourself in the eye after. And whatever it must be, if there is still something left - I will respect it. Because I love you. Because I want you alive, but not more than I want you whole.
no subject
Except no, it still hurts. Handsome Jill. She may not be crying any more, but she kind of feels like she's going to throw up instead. ]
Both of you are -- I never claimed to be a good person. Or a hero.
[ Jack did. Jack does. Ugh, is this another thing they have in common under everything? Making vaguely heroic motions at things, but being a total asshole underneath it all?
She doesn't want that. Not that she really knows what she does want any more. ]
Iunno what I should do. But - but if we are all likely to die, I don't wanna sit and do nothing. Even if it ends up being meaningless again.
[ And she finally hugs back properly instead of just sagging. Not before planting a smooch on each of their cheeks, though, obviously. Like. Duh. ]
Love you both.
no subject
That's the beauty of these things. Whatever you declare, or don't, it's the people around you who name it for what it is. Your deeds have spoken for you, and this underlying reason.
[He grins warmly at the kiss, and as he gently puts pressure on Beckett's shoulders to encourage a group hug, gives him a different smile, one that has maybe a little more hope. Did we do it? Working together, have they helped do right by her?]
Admitting that you don't know, that's important. Self-reflection can be difficult and not everyone can do it alone. If you need help, you know that you have people you can depend on. I love you too.