[ He finds her there, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the stars. The viewport gives him a nostalgic feeling, and he responds to it by taking a seat right behind her, parting his knees and scooting forward until her back is against his chest. ]
Hi.
[ She's small enough that his arms loop around her shoulders with ease. ]
[ Vriska doesn't look up when she hears footsteps behind her, keeping her gaze on the far untouchable stars. It's only when he takes a seat that she starts to think something is up, but by then it's too late. He's slipped his arms around her, and a fine tremor passes through her shoulders before she relents to settling back against him. After a moment's thought, she leans her head against one of the arms he's got circling her shoulders. ]
Hey. [ Her voice is soft and rough with memories. ]
... you know, I wish he'd made it this far. I think he would have liked being up here again. Or maybe just been spooked by the void Ajna left behind. Both. I'll never know.
[ Her shoulder is the perfect perch for his chin, his head fitting neatly between the crook of her shoulder and the birth of her horn. He looks out into the void with her. ]
You can't keep looking back, Vriska. Even if it's tempting.
[ As if he has any room to talk. ]
He might be on another ship right now, looking at the same stars.
[ It's quiet, and hopeful, but it's still a might be, and they both know Simon's nature. ]
She has to be. She's had a few centuries to practice.
[ Gliese is mysterious to him, unfathomable. Over a thousand years old; how much of what she says is honesty and how much just a carefully crafted mask to, as Vriska puts it, provide 'crowd control'?
He didn't come here to talk about Gliese, though. He came to offer Vriska comfort. He's no moirail, he knows he can't offer her much. All he has is himself. ]
[ For a long moment, Vriska does not reply. Instead she takes in the warmth, the shape of him, the way she can feel his chest rise and fall against her back. The life in him. ]
... yeah.
[ Something about the shape of her silence, the too-quiet tone of her response, suggests a lot of answers begun and discarded in her mind. Like she didn't know how to answer him. And she didn't. Doesn't. He's-- ]
Yeah. [ She says again, stronger this time, and reaches a hand back to ruffle his hair. ]
[ He's mock-hurt, but he understands. He can't fill her emotional pain for her. Only she can eliminate it completely. His head bends to the pressure of her hand; she's the second girl in the last four days to touch his hair, and like the first time, the gesture isn't unpleasant. ]
[ For the first time that gets her to sit up enough so she can twist a little and look at him. Her eyebrows are drawn up, her expression quietly unhappy. ]
... you know, I had a nice talk with Gliese. It was cordial and everything. Almost friendly. [ A pause, and her mouth briefly tightens. ] ... when did protecting the people I give a shit about and being exactly what the CDC wants me to be become the same thing?
It was always the same thing. You just didn't have anyone to care about, before.
[ He points it out mildly. When she'd gone and gotten herself thrown into a mountain, they'd barely known each other. Things have changed very much since then. ]
You may not get to keep who you are. But who you become is still malleable.
[ 'What the CDC wants' has, he finds, quite a bit of variation. Their instructors are proof enough of that. ]
[ She knew that, if she thinks about it. Protecting others was always going to mean obeying the CDC in their every whim. But that doesn't stop it being galling. Still, she takes his point in stride, not offended by what she knows is a fact. She hasn't forgotten, either, that early tense conversation that would lead to so much more than she bargained for. Much as she wanted a second chance, she could never have been prepared for what that chance would do to her. ]
Yeah. And now the trade-off is constantly being ... terrified about what might happen to those people. [ The pause was to search for words. She was going to soften the blow - say "freaked out," "concerned," whatever - but it wouldn't be the truth. It is a constant low-level terror, to care about other people whose fates are in constant jeopardy. ]
I think I might be starting to hate who I'm becoming, Noh-Varr. Especially if that person says how high when the CDC tells her to jump. [ She blows out a breath, weary in her bones. ] But what it comes down to is that I'd jump a fucking mountain if it'd keep you guys safe.
[ She pauses for half a breath, and then smiles. A real, genuine smile. ]
And avoid doing stupid, impulsive bullshit just because I feel like it. Or, you know, try to.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
unfavoured
Day 86 | Hour 22
I miss Simon.
no subject
Do you need company?
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Yeah.
FROM: serket.vriska@cdc.org
If you're not 8usy.
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I can make time. Where are you?
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FROM: serket.vriska@cdc.org
The o8servation deck.
no subject
Hi.
[ She's small enough that his arms loop around her shoulders with ease. ]
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Hey. [ Her voice is soft and rough with memories. ]
... you know, I wish he'd made it this far. I think he would have liked being up here again. Or maybe just been spooked by the void Ajna left behind. Both. I'll never know.
no subject
You can't keep looking back, Vriska. Even if it's tempting.
[ As if he has any room to talk. ]
He might be on another ship right now, looking at the same stars.
[ It's quiet, and hopeful, but it's still a might be, and they both know Simon's nature. ]
no subject
I don't know how to stop caring so much about someone I'm never going to see again, okay.
[ Looking at the same stars. The thought makes her want to cry, and she clamps down on the feeling viciously. ]
... I have to give Gliese credit. She's a master at crowd control.
no subject
[ Gliese is mysterious to him, unfathomable. Over a thousand years old; how much of what she says is honesty and how much just a carefully crafted mask to, as Vriska puts it, provide 'crowd control'?
He didn't come here to talk about Gliese, though. He came to offer Vriska comfort. He's no moirail, he knows he can't offer her much. All he has is himself. ]
You've got me. Does that help?
no subject
... yeah.
[ Something about the shape of her silence, the too-quiet tone of her response, suggests a lot of answers begun and discarded in her mind. Like she didn't know how to answer him. And she didn't. Doesn't. He's-- ]
Yeah. [ She says again, stronger this time, and reaches a hand back to ruffle his hair. ]
For now.
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[ He's mock-hurt, but he understands. He can't fill her emotional pain for her. Only she can eliminate it completely. His head bends to the pressure of her hand; she's the second girl in the last four days to touch his hair, and like the first time, the gesture isn't unpleasant. ]
Whenever you need, Vriska.
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[ An allusion to her own exile to Grey. ]
But I know you mean that. And I appreciate it. You know the same goes for you, right?
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I know. [ He squeezes her shoulders, gently, comforting. ] You're working hard. They can see it as well as I do. You'll be back.
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[ The words don't ring with the same pride they might have before. Now they're thoughtful, a little hollow. ]
I'll be back, yeah. But I'm not so sure I'll like the person I've become.
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[ He has extensive experience with not liking the choices you've made and, consequently, not liking yourself. But he doesn't quite say that. ]
I suspect that eventually, none of us will.
[ That's why they need each other. ]
no subject
... you know, I had a nice talk with Gliese. It was cordial and everything. Almost friendly. [ A pause, and her mouth briefly tightens. ] ... when did protecting the people I give a shit about and being exactly what the CDC wants me to be become the same thing?
no subject
[ He points it out mildly. When she'd gone and gotten herself thrown into a mountain, they'd barely known each other. Things have changed very much since then. ]
You may not get to keep who you are. But who you become is still malleable.
[ 'What the CDC wants' has, he finds, quite a bit of variation. Their instructors are proof enough of that. ]
no subject
Yeah. And now the trade-off is constantly being ... terrified about what might happen to those people. [ The pause was to search for words. She was going to soften the blow - say "freaked out," "concerned," whatever - but it wouldn't be the truth. It is a constant low-level terror, to care about other people whose fates are in constant jeopardy. ]
I think I might be starting to hate who I'm becoming, Noh-Varr. Especially if that person says how high when the CDC tells her to jump. [ She blows out a breath, weary in her bones. ] But what it comes down to is that I'd jump a fucking mountain if it'd keep you guys safe.
[ She pauses for half a breath, and then smiles. A real, genuine smile. ]
And avoid doing stupid, impulsive bullshit just because I feel like it. Or, you know, try to.