fridgetothefire | 072 ☣ Last night I was a cypress tree

[Video, public]

[Anya looks very tired, but a great deal more put together than last time - except for the crumbling remnants of bone spikes, like the bases of marble columns in Roman ruins, like terrible broken teeth, now almost entirely covered by the admiral's cap.]

Some of you remember the mirror barge, and some of you don't. You can ask your neighbor for the gory details if you want. The point is, the ship was in bad shape. Worse than now. And the other barge was - feeding on it, as far as we could tell, parasitically. The walls were rotting, and the Admiral needed to conserve power to chase the other ship before we were eroded entirely.

There was a warden, then, who'd been on the ship for - four years? Five? Longer than anyone but Arthas, I think. And when I asked her, she said she'd never seen everyone on the barge manage to work together to do anything.

But we did. People volunteered, and wardens agreed to certain unanimous incentives for inmates, and the whole ship, more or less, helped me keep the place in one piece until we could reverse the drain. I....

[She trails off for a moment, then blinks, comes back to herself, scrubs a hand down her face, pops a bottle of advil out of her desk drawer and swallows two dry.]

We all assume we can't work together, that we'll squabble and go our own ways because most of the time, that's what works. But we can. When we have to.

It - takes it out of me, when I dare try to will us to sail straight. When I try to get lost inmates back, there's no exhaustion, no headaches, nothing. So this is something we can affect. We should try to do it together, instead of haphazard and maybe hitting each other with our metaphorical oars.

Everyone who's gotten some of this, if you're willing - and I know there's a lot we don't know, and nobody has to, but if you're willing to try with me - I think we should pick a common goal. Somewhere on early twenty-first century earth would be best, I think, since that seems to be...common, in whatever neighborhood or transdimensional archipelago we're usually traveling through. But the direction doesn't matter so much as long as we can agree on one. And then take it in shifts, to keep ourselves stable and the pressure steady, too.

Thoughts?

[Spam for Pietro]

[A few days after his arrival, she goes to slip a pamphlet under his door, just in case.]

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[It hurts. She knows he's doing it to push her away, but that doesn't make it hurt any less - only a little differently. She closes her eyes for a wounded moment - however long it may seem to him - swallows, eyebrows pinching down, breathes, forces herself not to lash out back. Her voice comes out cool, but not icy. She will consider this a small victory.]

If I don't know you, Pietro Maximoff, then you don't know me either. Not what I deserve, and certainly not what I got.

[I got his bloody cape hanging above my bed she wants to snarl, I won I won I won, so he was right about me all along. Never trust a human. She'll tell him someday. But not today.]

[There's a sick, grim satisfaction to seeing her draw back. To getting some kind of negative reaction. His lips twitch a little, into a humorless smile. But even that doesn't last. He doesn't enjoy baiting her the way he has some of the people here. The emotions are too raw.]

Never assumed I did know you.

Y'know. Beyond you being a human, anyway.

[He's had a lot of practice in making that sound like an insult.]

[But insults to her humanity she was braced for; she's heard far worse, and expected this from him from the beginning. She tilts her head, smiles again, and it's still a little tight but tartly, now, like there's a joke only she knows.]

You know you're utterly transparent, right? It's easier to push me away with lazy insults than deal with the fact that someone cares.

Never seen that before. Have a fucking cookie.

[And lo, a double-chocolate chocolate chunk fudge cookie drops from the air in front of him. Think fast, bro.]

[If Pietro had more patience and less nervousness, he might not've fallen into the trap of revealing his intentions by trying to hide them. He's a manipulator, sure. But he's hardly the master Magneto is, especially as young as he is. Then again, she has read his file - not that he's aware of that - so she probably would've seen through him anyway.

He flushes, angry and embarrassed, and catches the cookie on impulse. But not before it falls for second. He's fast, sure, but he's not as fast as he should be.]

More magic space boat shit?

I don't care what you think I'm doing. I don't care how fucking hard your life is. But I sure don't need you psychoanalyzing me.

[He gestures with the cookie as he talks, agitated.]

[In his defense, she really has seen it quite a lot - it's a common mechanism on the barge.]

The magic space boat shit don't stop, honey. Don't worry, you'll learn to roll with it.

[Despite the family stubbornness, speed is his thing and mutants always come from worlds with plenty of weird shit. He'll learn fast.]

Here's the thing: you can't get rid of me by being an asshole. I might not know you very well yet, but I totally know you're a jerk already. And I think you're worth caring about anyway.

[Deal with it.gif]

[The 'honey' makes him sneer a little. He crosses his arm, apparently not planning on eating the cookie. At least, not for the moment. It's still in his hand, though. He hates to litter.]

Great. Just fucking great. And how's that working out for you? Because let me tell you something - it hasn't worked for anyone else. [Including Wanda.] And it doesn't change anything from where I'm standing. I don't play nice. Not for family. Not for anybody.

[She thinks of Erik; she thinks of Arthas. She doesn't wince, this time, but grimaces slightly, a more rueful, controlled reaction, gives him a small nod of concession.]

Honestly? As a life strategy, it's been mixed.

[She thinks of Erik, and Arthas, and Dean and Cassel and Two-Face and Wanda and Esther and Cass and so many others. And...feels better than she has in a long time, maybe since Karazhan.]

Worth it, though.

Edited 2015-05-26 03:22 (UTC)

Good for you.

[Pietro doesn't have patience for these kinds of philosophies. Trusting people, caring for them, relying on them... it never works out. Wanda's the only person he can never seem to wall off completely, and sometimes... sometimes he wishes he could stop caring about her, too. It'd make it easier for him to be the person his father expected him to be, at least. She's not an easy person to love, even if he knew how. The last thing he needs is another sister.]

Go do it somewhere I don't have to deal with it, all right?

[She regards him for another moment. Wants to fix his hair, doesn't. She did say she'd fuck off, if he could get around to asking. He'll be prickly for a while yet; honestly she didn't expect even this much conversation so soon.]

Okay.

Thanks.

[80% sincere gratitude - for listening as long as he did, for falling ass-backwards into reminding her why she does what she does, and the comfort that came with that. 20% because she knows it'll mess with his head, and what are big sisters for, after all. She turns to head back for the stairs.]

[The thanks, as genuine as it feels - or maybe because it's genuine - stings. He doesn't want her to be thankful. He wants her to give up and go away. He's not even sure what she's thanking him for, and it irritates him that it just doesn't make sense. That he can't read her, and doesn't know what she wants, even though so much about her is bitingly familiar.

He's more than happy to sniff haughtily, turn, and vanish back into his room so quickly that the stupid wooden letters rattle when he slams the door.]

072 ☣ Last night I was a cypress tree

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