[ they shift a little to lace their fingers together. like always, aquila's hand is cold, and when they shift down, something familiar like the feeling of beads brushes against her wrist.
they're quiet for a long moment as her voice breaks - is this because they are deciding what to say and making sure they dont panic? it might be, a little - but: ]
... sometimes those loyalties get all tangled up, though.
[she knows they don't like it when she cries so she's trying very, very hard to Not Do That.]
I never did find my footing with him. Hades, I mean. [she keeps having to pause to hold her breath like a toddler] And I all but helped Harrow sentence Dimitri to death.
And it wasn't - I knew, the second I checked Hades, the second it clicked that he used his stupid fucking book, that I couldn't go after him. So now Estelle has no answers. And I - threw someone else under the cart. And he had the fucking grace to thank me for it.
[ it's okay they are preparing themselves for it. well, especially when she has to hold her breath - they sort of do too. sitting like this in the dim lights of the lobby, you could almost see aquila's expression change from under the veil, the way their brows are knit together; they squeeze her hand when she pauses. ]
Circumstances don't ever change, of any of these things. Only the results. [ weeks and weeks of this, after all, in different locations, but the same exact results. ] Someone's always going to get thrown under the cart. Someone has to suffer. Every single action taken here is going to have collateral, and sometimes, you pick the route that's going to have the least.
[ ... ]
...Sometimes, that's all you can do, at least in the present moment. Some situations have more, and some have less, but the smallest amount of shrapnel will still never leave things clean.
If he had the grace to thank you for it, Lup - there's no way he didn't mean it. Maybe it doesn't make it better, and it doesn't make it right, but when you weigh people's lives as these places do, then a mercy born from some selfishness is still a mercy.
[it's all - nice, it's nice words, and she gets the meaning, she gets that they're trying to help, but it doesn't feel right, and it doesn't make her feel better. sometimes it's all you can do. she's said this to other people before, but in the moment, it's not how it feels.
in the moment she wants someone to yell at her, or to fight with someone, or something. her emotions feel too big, like she's going to explode from them. for the first time she really gets the people who fist fight each other after trials to get the aggression out, to get the grief and the fury and the fucking indignity and injustice out in blood on the floor.
maybe it's the stress of holding a secret, the guilt of protecting someone she loves by hurting someone else, or feeling so on the outside, the third, she always says, even though it's her own brain trying to convince her she doesn't belong. the only person she's ever been confident that she's first with is her own goddamn hostage, and he's so far and so close. she feels so out of her own skin. she feels like she's in that stupid fucking umbrella, looking out to everybody living.
it makes her feel sick, and she pulls herself up to sit, knees to her chest, head between them so she can just put her head back on straight. she doesn't answer, yet.]
[ actually this is even worse than crying girl help
aquila stays quiet while she does so, letting her move, keeping her hand in his. his head's turned a little, watching lup as she curls up on herself like a pillbug, feeling, for the tenth, twentieth, fiftieth time in the past six weeks - so, so unbelievably powerless.
for now, they don't have any clever words to fix it - maybe that's not the right path, anyway. instead, still holding her hand, they squeeze. tighter, tighter, gently encouraging her to do the same. cut off his shitty circulation, it's not like he really feels it anyway. ]
[she just breathes, for a little bit, trying to make sure she doesn't actually throw up. it'd gotten bad in the station, but not like this. the unknown is so much worse. she's not a person who can't handle stress, she's strong, but... this place has done nothing but pull at the loose threads in her head and unraveled them. every time she makes a couple of steps forward, something rips the rug out from underneath her and sends her back.
she holds their hand for a while. and then, with a small, wet voice, she just exhales:]
...I think so, too. [ their tone makes those four words feel much bigger than just the obvious. there's worry, concern that runs deeper through aquila than some people ever get to know, care and compassion and love and sorrow, all bundled up together. of course it goes deeper than just the obvious; the root cause here is much bigger than just today's events. the sickness is bigger than a little nausea, it's bigger than panic and stress. it's some kind of heartsick, as clear as day.
aquila turns their free hand a little and shakes their sleeve. something plops out into their hand - of all things, a tiny little peppermint - and they take their combined hands up to settle lup's in their lap for now, tucking the candy between their palms. ]
I think the only cure for that sickness is the end of what triggers the symptoms. [ aquila says, quietly - underlaid in their voice, there's a tiny bit of anger, but it's not at lup. on her behalf, or on the situation as a whole. ] And time, which I don't believe you've had a chance to have.
At the risk of sounding childish - it's unfair. It makes me want to throw a tantrum, and that's just from the place where I'm standing. [ they are so mad on lup's behalf every day, actually, but that's besides the point ] This place, and every place like it, punishes the people who care the most.
[she hiccups out a laugh when he says he wants to throw a tantrum. yeah.
the peppermint is sweet in a few ways, and she holds it between their hands for a moment, the sentiment meaning more than the candy itself. she closes her eyes, listening to them talk, and turning the words over in her head. the back of her neck itches, and she ignores it the best she can, tries to not think about it. there's no room for the uwu right now, she can't take it.]
I don't even know how to unravel it, is - is the thing. [she starts, voice a touch slurry in the way that exhaustion makes someone.] There's... so many things, all at once.
But everywhere I turn there's someone with a problem, and I can't - I can't hurt them with it. So I have to - to eat it. But I'm - I'm getting too full, I can't hold all of this.
[it's hard to be the emotionally stable one for everybody. eventually the foundation starts to crack under the weight.]
[ they process all of that, listening, and then stroke the side of her thumb with their hand. giving each word its weighty consideration, and then: ]
... ]
...Let me ask you this. If you know someone is hurting - as you often seem to, and that someone hides their pain from you, or tries to play it strong, doesn't that upset you even further when you uncover it?
Yes, but I don't - this is different. There isn't room for me to be upset that Hades is dead, because Mollymauk had to kill him, and he was forced, and him and Harrow, they didn't ever see the same side of him I did. There isn't room for me to be upset because Jason and Cloud nearly died last week, because I was the one who helped sentence Dimitri to death and Jason's - upset about it, and I can't - be angry at them, it's not their fault, and I couldn't even pick the right people to be safe because I picked myself but I can't tell anybody about that, either!
[hoo boy, it's all tumbling out.]
And Gemini is suffering and I can hear it every time they talk to me, and I don't know what to do about Lepus anymore, and don't even get me started on you.
[ they let it all tumble out - stay perfectly quiet, listening, not interrupting.
and then they squeeze her hand tighter when she says you. ]
You're cramping yourself further and further into a box to be unobtrusive. [ into an umbrella, maybe, but he doesn't say it. aquila's tone isn't angry or coarse or anything, but firm and unyielding. steady - the emotion in his voice is conviction.] There is room, Lup, but you're forcing yourself not to see it because you think everyone else's suffering is worse than yours, or that you'd rather fix them instead of pay attention to you, but the longer that you spend fixing everyone else's problems, the more that you tear yourself into little pieces in the process.
[ a beat. ]
If you want to come back to me and the suffering that I have, then, that is my problem. My problem is that I'm watching you drown yourself for the sake of keeping everyone else afloat, and my problem is that I have to stand on the shore and watch you do it. [ powerless. ] If this is what I can do, then I'll do it. If you want to help me, then I want you to let us - all of us - pull you up to the surface for air. Even if it's just for a gasp.
[ they pause, briefly, but the conviction doesn't fade or flicker, though there's a vulnerable, obvious honesty to how aquila finishes their statement. ]
The people who love you [ the implication there is very heavy - that it applies to multiple people, but by god, does it apply to him, too ] can't stand watching you suffer as much as you can't stand them doing the same.
[she pulls her knees closer and rests her head against them, hugging them close with her free hand.
she hears it. she hears him tell her all of this and she just sighs out, tears finally dripping down her face. she hates how many times this place has made her cry.]
I don't - I don't know how to let them. [pull her to the surface.]
aquila shifts a little closer to her, keeping a hold of her hand, like they can be the one to pull her up. there's a little coaxing in their voice, gentle, even if it's sort of the blind leading the blind, here. they can try. ]
You had just started. [ when all of those words came tumbling out, earlier. ] If I tell you that I want you to talk to me about something, will you try, for me? It's a start. If you're weighted down by a thousand stones, let me take away a hundred.
[it helps. with someone else it might feel condescending, but she can take the lifesaver he's throwing out to her. she trusts him - he earned it, what feels like so long ago.]
[ aquila appreciates the fact that lup understands him because he is truly doing his goddamn best at this exact moment and sometimes his best comes out a little condescending because he is functionally useless as a human being when it comes to talking about things but he is trying
...it's also clear, too, that he appreciates it, because the tension in his shoulders loosens a fraction, and he exhales. okay. ]
... Talk to me about - Emet-Selch. Hades. [ setting the molly piece aside, for now. ] You were upset, when they talked over using the stars on Claude's case. [ they could tell. ]
[he is doing his best! she knows him, she knows this is hard. she's also stupid like this.]
I wasn't - upset. So much. [she says, finally.] I like Claude a lot. And... and it worked out.
But - nobody tried, with Hades. Nobody ever tried. And it doesn't matter how weird it was with this one, or how I couldn't quite figure out how to work with this version of him. I care.
worked out is definitely a phrase, but there's more to dig into with the rest of it, so. they nod, leaning back against the desk and settling in to listen. ]
He did a lot for you, back in the station - what I read, at least. [ aquila is definitely here and aquila and just sometimes has to mind that. ] Despair did, anyway. Something like an anchor. Right?
[it worked out because if she had caught molly she would've died]
Mmhm. Sometimes. [sometimes not. sometimes he drove her fucking crazy and she didn't want to be anywhere close to him, but.] Miles was more, towards the end, as far as Avatars go. I couldn't give up my morality for Despair.
he can pretty clearly tell why at the end, he wasn't much of an anchor, and it has very little to do with lup finding her way with others. he strokes his thumb absently over the side of her hand again, unconsciously. ]
So of course you care. [ quiet. he thinks lup would care no matter what. ] It seemed like he was leaning on you here, instead of the other way around.
But...[ anyway. ] You still did your best with it, though. I don't think that's surprising; and that connection makes it still hurt to lose someone. Not to mention, even if you didn't know him that well, - like you said. The fact that no one tried would have been upsetting already.
[ even if it turned out okay, in the end. for reasons. ]
Edited (i didnt notice this ate half my tag until i accidentally refreshed this tab instead of the town meeting hello) 2022-07-17 22:36 (UTC)
[ they squeeze her hand a little, at that, and there's something just a touch affectionate in their voice. always had a thing for the people nobody else tried with. ]
Always had a way with finding those people, too.
[ lup's radar for lonely people who put up a good front is truly incredible. he listens as she continues, and then nods. ]
I agree. [ coming as a surprise to no one, but, yeah. ] I think... 's been a long few weeks, but we've probably talked about something like that before. [ well. not here, but, "aquila" wouldn't remember a conversation about selfishly wanting certain people to survive, so. sticking to that front, for now. ] Did you figure out it could have been him, quickly? You were the one who looked Emet-Selch over.
Can't confirm or deny either way, but, it's a solid line of thought. [ sweats in the date of this thread
anyway. there's a little pause, brief, and she'll hear them exhale, like a long sigh, leaning back against the desk. ] ... A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with someone about these kinds of actions, and about telling the people who care for you, and not telling them, and what it means to weigh those decisions. Obviously, some factors come into play that prevent those things, considering the nature of the hotel.
It's hard for the people who are left to discover it and pick up the pieces, after the fact, too.
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guestservices) wrote2022-06-09 12:18 pm
no subject
they're quiet for a long moment as her voice breaks - is this because they are deciding what to say and making sure they dont panic? it might be, a little - but: ]
... sometimes those loyalties get all tangled up, though.
[ gently; they're not stupid. ]
no subject
I never did find my footing with him. Hades, I mean. [she keeps having to pause to hold her breath like a toddler] And I all but helped Harrow sentence Dimitri to death.
And it wasn't - I knew, the second I checked Hades, the second it clicked that he used his stupid fucking book, that I couldn't go after him. So now Estelle has no answers. And I - threw someone else under the cart. And he had the fucking grace to thank me for it.
no subject
Circumstances don't ever change, of any of these things. Only the results. [ weeks and weeks of this, after all, in different locations, but the same exact results. ] Someone's always going to get thrown under the cart. Someone has to suffer. Every single action taken here is going to have collateral, and sometimes, you pick the route that's going to have the least.
[ ... ]
...Sometimes, that's all you can do, at least in the present moment. Some situations have more, and some have less, but the smallest amount of shrapnel will still never leave things clean.
If he had the grace to thank you for it, Lup - there's no way he didn't mean it. Maybe it doesn't make it better, and it doesn't make it right, but when you weigh people's lives as these places do, then a mercy born from some selfishness is still a mercy.
no subject
in the moment she wants someone to yell at her, or to fight with someone, or something. her emotions feel too big, like she's going to explode from them. for the first time she really gets the people who fist fight each other after trials to get the aggression out, to get the grief and the fury and the fucking indignity and injustice out in blood on the floor.
maybe it's the stress of holding a secret, the guilt of protecting someone she loves by hurting someone else, or feeling so on the outside, the third, she always says, even though it's her own brain trying to convince her she doesn't belong. the only person she's ever been confident that she's first with is her own goddamn hostage, and he's so far and so close. she feels so out of her own skin. she feels like she's in that stupid fucking umbrella, looking out to everybody living.
it makes her feel sick, and she pulls herself up to sit, knees to her chest, head between them so she can just put her head back on straight. she doesn't answer, yet.]
no subject
aquila stays quiet while she does so, letting her move, keeping her hand in his. his head's turned a little, watching lup as she curls up on herself like a pillbug, feeling, for the tenth, twentieth, fiftieth time in the past six weeks - so, so unbelievably powerless.
for now, they don't have any clever words to fix it - maybe that's not the right path, anyway. instead, still holding her hand, they squeeze. tighter, tighter, gently encouraging her to do the same. cut off his shitty circulation, it's not like he really feels it anyway. ]
no subject
she holds their hand for a while. and then, with a small, wet voice, she just exhales:]
I think I'm making myself sick.
no subject
...I think so, too. [ their tone makes those four words feel much bigger than just the obvious. there's worry, concern that runs deeper through aquila than some people ever get to know, care and compassion and love and sorrow, all bundled up together. of course it goes deeper than just the obvious; the root cause here is much bigger than just today's events. the sickness is bigger than a little nausea, it's bigger than panic and stress. it's some kind of heartsick, as clear as day.
aquila turns their free hand a little and shakes their sleeve. something plops out into their hand - of all things, a tiny little peppermint - and they take their combined hands up to settle lup's in their lap for now, tucking the candy between their palms. ]
I think the only cure for that sickness is the end of what triggers the symptoms. [ aquila says, quietly - underlaid in their voice, there's a tiny bit of anger, but it's not at lup. on her behalf, or on the situation as a whole. ] And time, which I don't believe you've had a chance to have.
At the risk of sounding childish - it's unfair. It makes me want to throw a tantrum, and that's just from the place where I'm standing. [ they are so mad on lup's behalf every day, actually, but that's besides the point ] This place, and every place like it, punishes the people who care the most.
no subject
the peppermint is sweet in a few ways, and she holds it between their hands for a moment, the sentiment meaning more than the candy itself. she closes her eyes, listening to them talk, and turning the words over in her head. the back of her neck itches, and she ignores it the best she can, tries to not think about it. there's no room for the uwu right now, she can't take it.]
I don't even know how to unravel it, is - is the thing. [she starts, voice a touch slurry in the way that exhaustion makes someone.] There's... so many things, all at once.
But everywhere I turn there's someone with a problem, and I can't - I can't hurt them with it. So I have to - to eat it. But I'm - I'm getting too full, I can't hold all of this.
[it's hard to be the emotionally stable one for everybody. eventually the foundation starts to crack under the weight.]
no subject
... ]
...Let me ask you this. If you know someone is hurting - as you often seem to, and that someone hides their pain from you, or tries to play it strong, doesn't that upset you even further when you uncover it?
[ who's someone here. don't worry about it. ]
no subject
Yes, but I don't - this is different. There isn't room for me to be upset that Hades is dead, because Mollymauk had to kill him, and he was forced, and him and Harrow, they didn't ever see the same side of him I did. There isn't room for me to be upset because Jason and Cloud nearly died last week, because I was the one who helped sentence Dimitri to death and Jason's - upset about it, and I can't - be angry at them, it's not their fault, and I couldn't even pick the right people to be safe because I picked myself but I can't tell anybody about that, either!
[hoo boy, it's all tumbling out.]
And Gemini is suffering and I can hear it every time they talk to me, and I don't know what to do about Lepus anymore, and don't even get me started on you.
[another voice crack.]
no subject
and then they squeeze her hand tighter when she says you. ]
You're cramping yourself further and further into a box to be unobtrusive. [ into an umbrella, maybe, but he doesn't say it. aquila's tone isn't angry or coarse or anything, but firm and unyielding. steady - the emotion in his voice is conviction.] There is room, Lup, but you're forcing yourself not to see it because you think everyone else's suffering is worse than yours, or that you'd rather fix them instead of pay attention to you, but the longer that you spend fixing everyone else's problems, the more that you tear yourself into little pieces in the process.
[ a beat. ]
If you want to come back to me and the suffering that I have, then, that is my problem. My problem is that I'm watching you drown yourself for the sake of keeping everyone else afloat, and my problem is that I have to stand on the shore and watch you do it. [ powerless. ] If this is what I can do, then I'll do it. If you want to help me, then I want you to let us - all of us - pull you up to the surface for air. Even if it's just for a gasp.
[ they pause, briefly, but the conviction doesn't fade or flicker, though there's a vulnerable, obvious honesty to how aquila finishes their statement. ]
The people who love you [ the implication there is very heavy - that it applies to multiple people, but by god, does it apply to him, too ] can't stand watching you suffer as much as you can't stand them doing the same.
no subject
she hears it. she hears him tell her all of this and she just sighs out, tears finally dripping down her face. she hates how many times this place has made her cry.]
I don't - I don't know how to let them. [pull her to the surface.]
no subject
aquila shifts a little closer to her, keeping a hold of her hand, like they can be the one to pull her up. there's a little coaxing in their voice, gentle, even if it's sort of the blind leading the blind, here. they can try. ]
You had just started. [ when all of those words came tumbling out, earlier. ] If I tell you that I want you to talk to me about something, will you try, for me? It's a start. If you're weighted down by a thousand stones, let me take away a hundred.
no subject
Okay. [a hiccup.] I can try.
no subject
...it's also clear, too, that he appreciates it, because the tension in his shoulders loosens a fraction, and he exhales. okay. ]
... Talk to me about - Emet-Selch. Hades. [ setting the molly piece aside, for now. ] You were upset, when they talked over using the stars on Claude's case. [ they could tell. ]
no subject
I wasn't - upset. So much. [she says, finally.] I like Claude a lot. And... and it worked out.
But - nobody tried, with Hades. Nobody ever tried. And it doesn't matter how weird it was with this one, or how I couldn't quite figure out how to work with this version of him. I care.
no subject
worked out is definitely a phrase, but there's more to dig into with the rest of it, so. they nod, leaning back against the desk and settling in to listen. ]
He did a lot for you, back in the station - what I read, at least. [ aquila is definitely here and aquila and just sometimes has to mind that. ] Despair did, anyway. Something like an anchor. Right?
no subject
Mmhm. Sometimes. [sometimes not. sometimes he drove her fucking crazy and she didn't want to be anywhere close to him, but.] Miles was more, towards the end, as far as Avatars go. I couldn't give up my morality for Despair.
But at the start, he helped.
no subject
he can pretty clearly tell why at the end, he wasn't much of an anchor, and it has very little to do with lup finding her way with others. he strokes his thumb absently over the side of her hand again, unconsciously. ]
So of course you care. [ quiet. he thinks lup would care no matter what. ] It seemed like he was leaning on you here, instead of the other way around.
no subject
[she says, maybe a little helplessly amused.]
It was so different it made me squirm.
no subject
Tell me about it.
[ bruh ]
But...[ anyway. ] You still did your best with it, though. I don't think that's surprising; and that connection makes it still hurt to lose someone. Not to mention, even if you didn't know him that well, - like you said. The fact that no one tried would have been upsetting already.
[ even if it turned out okay, in the end. for reasons. ]
no subject
as for the second part.] ... Yeah. Always had a thing for the people nobody else tried with, I guess.
[a beat.] It doesn't matter. Molly's safety is more important to me, right this second. Selfish as that is.
no subject
Always had a way with finding those people, too.
[ lup's radar for lonely people who put up a good front is truly incredible. he listens as she continues, and then nods. ]
I agree. [ coming as a surprise to no one, but, yeah. ] I think... 's been a long few weeks, but we've probably talked about something like that before. [ well. not here, but, "aquila" wouldn't remember a conversation about selfishly wanting certain people to survive, so. sticking to that front, for now. ] Did you figure out it could have been him, quickly? You were the one who looked Emet-Selch over.
no subject
I had a suspicion. I knew the book that Molly bought could do that. The strangulation, I mean.
no subject
Can't confirm or deny either way, but, it's a solid line of thought. [ sweats in the date of this thread
anyway. there's a little pause, brief, and she'll hear them exhale, like a long sigh, leaning back against the desk. ] ... A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with someone about these kinds of actions, and about telling the people who care for you, and not telling them, and what it means to weigh those decisions. Obviously, some factors come into play that prevent those things, considering the nature of the hotel.
It's hard for the people who are left to discover it and pick up the pieces, after the fact, too.