Heather Mason (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
foolishwren) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
victory_road2016-08-23 08:04 am
foolishwren) wrote in victory_road2016-08-23 08:04 am
002. [Video / Action for Ecruteak City] (backdated to the 19th!)
[It's the nineteenth, and the sun's not even up yet.]
[Not that that's particularly mattered to the network at large, considering both pleas for help and thoughtful rumination on how to get rid of the disguised ghosts have been zipping back and forth across cyperspace like busy little Combees nonstop. It's hard for anybody to sleep when a dead person has been standing awkwardly at the foot of your bed for several nights straight, so it's safe to say that nighttime posting's picked up quite a lot.]
[But it's that dark, gray-blue hour before dawn and most of the ghosts, by now, are gone. Nobody in their right mind is probably up right now to check what haunted nightowls are hollering into the void.]
[WHICH MEANS, IT'S TOTALLY THE PERFECT TIME FOR SOMEONE WHO'S BEEN STRAIGHT-UP AVOIDING EVERYBODY FOR THE WHOLE WEEK TO POST A VIDEO!]
[A darkened hotel room is the setting, and Heather Mason is the subject. The harsh blue-white glow of a 'Gear screen is hardly a flattering light-source, and the glaring shadows cast under her eyes make it obvious she hasn't been doing much sleeping. But well, this video ain't no makeup tutorial, so she doesn't care a whole lot about the fact that she's kind of a mess.]
[Once she's sure the 'Gear is on, she sets it down on some surface where it can show both her and a portion of the rest of the room, which houses three other figures: two little fox Pokemon on the bed, a Vulpix and an Eevee (who anyone that did much chatting with Heather during the festival will recognize as Cheryl), and an alarming specter by the curtains; A gaunt, severe woman in a plain dark dress, with hair so pale that it almost glows as it spills over her shoulders.]
[It's time to begin.]
[Heather gives the camera a tight smile, raising her hand in a stiff, to-the-point greeting.]
Heeeey, everybody.
Heather here. I honestly don't post a whole lot these days, sooo for those of you who don't already know me... I guess you're about to get one of the most awkward first impressions ever. Congratulations.
Anyway, I've been, uh. Spending some time with my ghost buddy here... [A clear nod, indicating the frankly spooky woman behind her.] ... and we've been having a great time. Lots of screaming and crying on my part, for one thing, always fun, and there was definitely at least one broken appliance I'm gonna have to pay for when I check out of this room. And hey-- you wanna know the part that makes this a real good ghost story? That woman behind me-- she's a murderer. A genuine, bona fide killer. And my dad, the best person to ever enter my life, before or since, was one of her victims. Maybe her first. The last? Was gonna be me.
Crazy, right? Right out of a slasher flick, me and her. What a pair.
But I'm not actually taping myself right now to talk about that.
The reason I'm posting this is kind of... no, really self-indulgent, and it's probably not even going to be interesting to seventy-five percent of you, but... I don't know. Maybe someone out there needs to hear it.
So, here goes.
[She clears her throat, drumming a fist on her collarbone briefly.]
Anyone who knows me, knows I've got one hell of a temper. Always been that way, always will be. We're talking, one day I'll be lowered into my grave and a thousand years later archaeologists will dig me up and open the coffin and immediately get punched in the nose by my skeleton. I'm not ashamed of that. My anger's what keeps me going, sometimes.
[Her tone is light, almost jovial... but then it goes serious in the blink of an eye.]
But only one or two of you were around when the woman behind me came to Johto, for real, in the flesh. For the rest of you, I won't be cryptic about it.
I hunted her down.
[Behind Heather, the Vulpix's dark eyes gleam in the low light as it turns its head to the camera, ears flattened and several tails curling in enmity. The Eevee lets out a quiet chirp, leaning forward to groom at the tuft of fur atop the other fox's head and calm her.]
What happened was... I won't say it wasn't important. But it's not what I wanted to talk about, either. This isn't Heather Mason's Fun Happy Murder Hour. I'll mention the part where I couldn't do it, I guess. I don't feel like that absolves me of much, but I know stuff like that matters to some people, and technically, I suppose that's something that separates me and her.
But the point... the point is...
[Man, she really should have written an outline or something. The words are there, she wants to say them. But after so many sleepless nights, it's kind of hard to find a way to get into it without a big meandering ramblefest first. She shakes her head a little, waving a hand for the camera.]
If there's one message I don't want anybody watching this to take away from it, it's that grownass adults shouldn't take responsibility for the shitty, cruel things they do. Hell, no. It doesn't matter what your sob story is, you gotta own it when you're responsible for somebody else hurting.
No exceptions, that's fuckin' life. You suck it up and deal with that, or you wind up going under.
But here's the thing, okay?
You can't choose where you come from, and if it's a bad place, not everyone gets to leave. Especially if everything in the whole fucking world seems dedicated to keeping you there.
I mean, fuck, we're talking about kids, for crying out loud.
[She's talking fast now, gesturing for emphasis and compensating for the way her voice is getting tighter by just forcing the words to come out quicker.]
Life isn't a Boxcar Children novel, a seven year old can't just pack a suitcase and hop the next train when every single figure of authority they've ever known wants them to stay exactly where they are, to do and think what they're told and nothing else. Even if the things they're being told are the sickest, most horrifying shit you could ever imagine. Things that made a grown man give up everything he ever had and spend the rest of his god-given life always on the run, never resting, to make sure the little kid he took out of there would never have to go back.
Places like that exist, and when they're the place you're born, you'd better fucking pray that someone like that man reaches in from the outside and helps you get out, because if you don't get out early, let me tell you, bud, you're never getting out.
[She stops abruptly there, catching her breath, before pointing a quivering hand over her shoulder at the woman, even as her gaze is still locked onto the camera, dead-set.]
She... never got out.
[Oh boy. Here come the tears. Heather swipes a rough hand over her eyes, laughing. It's kind of a pathetic, watery laugh, but she'd rather do that than do a bunch of gross boo-hooing on-camera.]
Haha, fuck. Look at me.
That's actually why I went after her here, in this place. Not because of what she did to my dad, or even what she did to me... but because I just couldn't-- couldn't listen to her cling to all that bullshit, I couldn't stand hearing her justify what she did, and have the nerve to call me a liar for trying to tell her the truth about that place, about... those people.
It made me so fucking angry, at her for being too freaking blind to see it, and...
... And at.. and at me, for getting out.
For getting out and not taking her with me.
[And then she's quiet for a moment, turning her eyes away from the camera slightly and blinking a whole lot, swiping a hand under her nose with an ugly sniff. The only sounds are the hum of the hotel room's AC unit. The ghostly woman in the background remains silent, even though her expression had gone from stoic to one of immense sadness. Because holy shit, the Misdreavus behind this illusion had not signed up for issues this messed-up, dog.]
[Heather's voice is thick when she speaks up again.]
... Thing is, that's fucking stupid... how can a little kid who can barely escape something with her own life possibly save another? How could I have possibly done that, when all I could do was literally run like the hounds of hell were after me?
How?
And how could that kid know anything other than getting fucking beaten like a dog whenever she stepped out of line? How, when they wouldn't let her know anything else? When they told her the rest of the world was nothing but filth and that the only way to save it was to purge it with fire? She was... a baby! She was still drawing little smiley faces on the sun in red crayon when they were trying to snuff that out and drown it in their fanatical bullshit!
How the... how the fuck did either of us even have a chance to turn out okay? How was it fair?! We were just kids!
[Another pause, another heavy swipe across the eyes.]
Okay, okay... I've been just... barfing words at nobody for like twenty minutes, this's just getting embarrassing now.
If anyone's even made it this far without being like 'holy shit, this chick is a basket case' and changing to someone else's channel, you deserve a trophy or something.
I'll just finish by saying, if anyone out there... if any of you were in a bad place as a kid, if any of you had to get out for your own good... it wasn't your fault, okay?
Even if there were others who weren't as lucky, who you couldn't take with you because literally all you could do was run.
And if you were one of the ones who couldn't, and... and you still have a hard time, letting go of it all, or even believing that the people who did all those things to you were wrong?
That's not your fault, either.
[Throughout her talk, the sky through the window's been lightening behind her, and a tiny sliver of sun is just starting to poke out over the dark rooftops beyond. Heather doesn't notice. Her smile is strained, but she doesn't let it break.]
Please believe that. Please.
It's not your fault.
[The white glow of the encroaching sunrise fades out most of the scene there-- but in the final frames of the broadcast, the ghost of Claudia Wolf visibly fades out, and the little Eevee's silhouette in the background takes on the color of the sun and begins to grow.]
[The feed ends there.]
[OOC: For CR still in Ecruteak who know which inn room Heather is in, they can find her snuggling her Brand New Espeon(tm)! and being really weird and emotional about childhood friends. Also, THIS GOT REALLY LONG I'M SO SORRY.]
[Not that that's particularly mattered to the network at large, considering both pleas for help and thoughtful rumination on how to get rid of the disguised ghosts have been zipping back and forth across cyperspace like busy little Combees nonstop. It's hard for anybody to sleep when a dead person has been standing awkwardly at the foot of your bed for several nights straight, so it's safe to say that nighttime posting's picked up quite a lot.]
[But it's that dark, gray-blue hour before dawn and most of the ghosts, by now, are gone. Nobody in their right mind is probably up right now to check what haunted nightowls are hollering into the void.]
[WHICH MEANS, IT'S TOTALLY THE PERFECT TIME FOR SOMEONE WHO'S BEEN STRAIGHT-UP AVOIDING EVERYBODY FOR THE WHOLE WEEK TO POST A VIDEO!]
[A darkened hotel room is the setting, and Heather Mason is the subject. The harsh blue-white glow of a 'Gear screen is hardly a flattering light-source, and the glaring shadows cast under her eyes make it obvious she hasn't been doing much sleeping. But well, this video ain't no makeup tutorial, so she doesn't care a whole lot about the fact that she's kind of a mess.]
[Once she's sure the 'Gear is on, she sets it down on some surface where it can show both her and a portion of the rest of the room, which houses three other figures: two little fox Pokemon on the bed, a Vulpix and an Eevee (who anyone that did much chatting with Heather during the festival will recognize as Cheryl), and an alarming specter by the curtains; A gaunt, severe woman in a plain dark dress, with hair so pale that it almost glows as it spills over her shoulders.]
[It's time to begin.]
[Heather gives the camera a tight smile, raising her hand in a stiff, to-the-point greeting.]
Heeeey, everybody.
Heather here. I honestly don't post a whole lot these days, sooo for those of you who don't already know me... I guess you're about to get one of the most awkward first impressions ever. Congratulations.
Anyway, I've been, uh. Spending some time with my ghost buddy here... [A clear nod, indicating the frankly spooky woman behind her.] ... and we've been having a great time. Lots of screaming and crying on my part, for one thing, always fun, and there was definitely at least one broken appliance I'm gonna have to pay for when I check out of this room. And hey-- you wanna know the part that makes this a real good ghost story? That woman behind me-- she's a murderer. A genuine, bona fide killer. And my dad, the best person to ever enter my life, before or since, was one of her victims. Maybe her first. The last? Was gonna be me.
Crazy, right? Right out of a slasher flick, me and her. What a pair.
But I'm not actually taping myself right now to talk about that.
The reason I'm posting this is kind of... no, really self-indulgent, and it's probably not even going to be interesting to seventy-five percent of you, but... I don't know. Maybe someone out there needs to hear it.
So, here goes.
[She clears her throat, drumming a fist on her collarbone briefly.]
Anyone who knows me, knows I've got one hell of a temper. Always been that way, always will be. We're talking, one day I'll be lowered into my grave and a thousand years later archaeologists will dig me up and open the coffin and immediately get punched in the nose by my skeleton. I'm not ashamed of that. My anger's what keeps me going, sometimes.
[Her tone is light, almost jovial... but then it goes serious in the blink of an eye.]
But only one or two of you were around when the woman behind me came to Johto, for real, in the flesh. For the rest of you, I won't be cryptic about it.
I hunted her down.
[Behind Heather, the Vulpix's dark eyes gleam in the low light as it turns its head to the camera, ears flattened and several tails curling in enmity. The Eevee lets out a quiet chirp, leaning forward to groom at the tuft of fur atop the other fox's head and calm her.]
What happened was... I won't say it wasn't important. But it's not what I wanted to talk about, either. This isn't Heather Mason's Fun Happy Murder Hour. I'll mention the part where I couldn't do it, I guess. I don't feel like that absolves me of much, but I know stuff like that matters to some people, and technically, I suppose that's something that separates me and her.
But the point... the point is...
[Man, she really should have written an outline or something. The words are there, she wants to say them. But after so many sleepless nights, it's kind of hard to find a way to get into it without a big meandering ramblefest first. She shakes her head a little, waving a hand for the camera.]
If there's one message I don't want anybody watching this to take away from it, it's that grownass adults shouldn't take responsibility for the shitty, cruel things they do. Hell, no. It doesn't matter what your sob story is, you gotta own it when you're responsible for somebody else hurting.
No exceptions, that's fuckin' life. You suck it up and deal with that, or you wind up going under.
But here's the thing, okay?
You can't choose where you come from, and if it's a bad place, not everyone gets to leave. Especially if everything in the whole fucking world seems dedicated to keeping you there.
I mean, fuck, we're talking about kids, for crying out loud.
[She's talking fast now, gesturing for emphasis and compensating for the way her voice is getting tighter by just forcing the words to come out quicker.]
Life isn't a Boxcar Children novel, a seven year old can't just pack a suitcase and hop the next train when every single figure of authority they've ever known wants them to stay exactly where they are, to do and think what they're told and nothing else. Even if the things they're being told are the sickest, most horrifying shit you could ever imagine. Things that made a grown man give up everything he ever had and spend the rest of his god-given life always on the run, never resting, to make sure the little kid he took out of there would never have to go back.
Places like that exist, and when they're the place you're born, you'd better fucking pray that someone like that man reaches in from the outside and helps you get out, because if you don't get out early, let me tell you, bud, you're never getting out.
[She stops abruptly there, catching her breath, before pointing a quivering hand over her shoulder at the woman, even as her gaze is still locked onto the camera, dead-set.]
She... never got out.
[Oh boy. Here come the tears. Heather swipes a rough hand over her eyes, laughing. It's kind of a pathetic, watery laugh, but she'd rather do that than do a bunch of gross boo-hooing on-camera.]
Haha, fuck. Look at me.
That's actually why I went after her here, in this place. Not because of what she did to my dad, or even what she did to me... but because I just couldn't-- couldn't listen to her cling to all that bullshit, I couldn't stand hearing her justify what she did, and have the nerve to call me a liar for trying to tell her the truth about that place, about... those people.
It made me so fucking angry, at her for being too freaking blind to see it, and...
... And at.. and at me, for getting out.
For getting out and not taking her with me.
[And then she's quiet for a moment, turning her eyes away from the camera slightly and blinking a whole lot, swiping a hand under her nose with an ugly sniff. The only sounds are the hum of the hotel room's AC unit. The ghostly woman in the background remains silent, even though her expression had gone from stoic to one of immense sadness. Because holy shit, the Misdreavus behind this illusion had not signed up for issues this messed-up, dog.]
[Heather's voice is thick when she speaks up again.]
... Thing is, that's fucking stupid... how can a little kid who can barely escape something with her own life possibly save another? How could I have possibly done that, when all I could do was literally run like the hounds of hell were after me?
How?
And how could that kid know anything other than getting fucking beaten like a dog whenever she stepped out of line? How, when they wouldn't let her know anything else? When they told her the rest of the world was nothing but filth and that the only way to save it was to purge it with fire? She was... a baby! She was still drawing little smiley faces on the sun in red crayon when they were trying to snuff that out and drown it in their fanatical bullshit!
How the... how the fuck did either of us even have a chance to turn out okay? How was it fair?! We were just kids!
[Another pause, another heavy swipe across the eyes.]
Okay, okay... I've been just... barfing words at nobody for like twenty minutes, this's just getting embarrassing now.
If anyone's even made it this far without being like 'holy shit, this chick is a basket case' and changing to someone else's channel, you deserve a trophy or something.
I'll just finish by saying, if anyone out there... if any of you were in a bad place as a kid, if any of you had to get out for your own good... it wasn't your fault, okay?
Even if there were others who weren't as lucky, who you couldn't take with you because literally all you could do was run.
And if you were one of the ones who couldn't, and... and you still have a hard time, letting go of it all, or even believing that the people who did all those things to you were wrong?
That's not your fault, either.
[Throughout her talk, the sky through the window's been lightening behind her, and a tiny sliver of sun is just starting to poke out over the dark rooftops beyond. Heather doesn't notice. Her smile is strained, but she doesn't let it break.]
Please believe that. Please.
It's not your fault.
[The white glow of the encroaching sunrise fades out most of the scene there-- but in the final frames of the broadcast, the ghost of Claudia Wolf visibly fades out, and the little Eevee's silhouette in the background takes on the color of the sun and begins to grow.]
[The feed ends there.]
[OOC: For CR still in Ecruteak who know which inn room Heather is in, they can find her snuggling her Brand New Espeon(tm)! and being really weird and emotional about childhood friends. Also, THIS GOT REALLY LONG I'M SO SORRY.]
no subject
[Once the door's shut, Heather sits back down on the bed, which is rumpled to hell and back. She'd done a lot of tossing and turning in the process of deciding what to say in that video, and whether or not she should even post it.]
[She's still holding onto Cheryl like a lifeline, and a deep rattling purr is coming from the Espeon's throat.]
[When she speaks next, her eyes are on the floor rather than on Lust. Her voice isn't choked up, but it is... plaintive.]
... Was I making any sense, in that video?
You've heard me when I rant, I get... stupid, and... incoherent.
Was it... did I just sound crazy?
no subject
[Lust shrugs.]
Is anything born of strong emotion ever entirely full of sense? No. But it doesn't matter. You made yourself heard. I'm sure it sounded crazy to some, but...
[Another shrug. They're all different, here. Thrown together from myriad worlds and cultures. She imagines there are some for whom Heather's impassioned outreach means nothing but madness.]
[But not most.]
Those that matter, heard.
no subject
[She's not going to look, though. She'd decided before she even posted it that she was going to let it sit for awhile before actually responding to anything.]
[She hadn't expected Lust to come knocking at her door right afterwards, though. Despite her decision, she finds that the other woman's presence isn't unwelcome. As cathartic as making that video had been, it hadn't quite been the emotional flush she'd wanted it to be. The feelings are still there, knotting up in her chest like snakes.]
[Squeezing Cheryl a little tighter, she lets out a sigh.]
I hope you're right.
About them hearing, I mean.
It's...
I don't know how much you guys can relate, being what you are. I know none of you were technically children, when you were born. [WELL, except for the one of them that was a literal kid, but.]
But the things human beings do to little kids that have no means to defend themselves... the woman in the video? She was-- ... the sweetest little girl you could ever imagine, Lust. She just wanted everyone in the world to be safe and happy. That was what she spent her days thinking about. Not toys or candy or all the fun, normal things that kids should be occupying themselves with.
No, she was five and already wishing she could take away everyone's pain.
Have you ever seen a fully-grown man throw a little five-year-old girl on the floor and kick her as hard as he could because he caught her smiling during the morning prayer?
I don't think it ever even occurred to her that she didn't deserve it.
no subject
[Perhaps the horror and disgust is different, for her, but she still understands. She frowns slightly, eyes averted. why had she wanted to be human so badly? They were just as cruel - perhaps crueler - than any homunculus. At least they were ignorant and without choice. Humans...]
I watched my master toss an infant into the air, once. It horrified me, even without human memories. It seemed, even then, a cruelty beyond necessity. Children can't defend themselves, children can't even comprehend.
I'm sorry for what you went through, and what you witnessed. But all you can do is what you're doing now. Sharing the horror in hopes of saving others from that same horror.
no subject
[You don't need to be a resurrected abomination or a gibbering amalgam of flesh from a world beyond to be a monster. The ingredients are right there. They've always been there.]
[Heather looks up, a corner of her lip curled, at the mention of Dante. Every single new little tidbit she learns about that woman ups the damn ante. Of course she threw a fucking baby.]
What a fuckin' peach.
[She's too drained to stoke that particular ember in her chest much, though, so the brief sneer of disgust fades back to that spent, exhausted sadness.]
Sharing, though... I don't... talk about it much.
To anybody.
Not even to Henry, most of the time... Envy knows more than anybody else here, probably, but... honestly, there's so much shit packed up in here that I've never even breathed a word of out loud to a single soul, in this world or any other.
I always feel like... I've arrived in this completely new world, so far removed from that horrible place. I've got friends and family and everything I could possibly want. Even more time with people who I lost. And it's like, why can't I just get over it?
[She lifts a hand to rub at one side of her face, grinding the heel of her palm into one eye to banish the itchy ache of too little sleep.]
It's not that other people don't have problems too, god, everybody's got something, but even what I talked about in that video, as hard as that was to pull out of my throat, it was still so-- so fucking tame. In comparison to what I could tell. All that stuff about the cult, about what happened to Dad, to my old best friend... it's so awful but it's barely scratching the surface.
Even now, it just feels-- shameful to talk about everything else.
To admit out loud how fucked up everything that made me who I am is, how fucked up I am, to all these people who might've looked at me before and thought, hey, that kid's kinda rough around the edges, but you know what? She's all right!
... Joke's on them, I guess. Ha, ha.
[The laugh is completely deadpan, delivered with a stone face. Which lasts for a couple of seconds, before her brow crinkles. God dammit, there go the tear ducts. A watery, but slightly more genuine laugh follows as she rubs that eye a little more vigorously.]
Hahah, fuck...
no subject
[Lust settled herself comfortably. She's still awkward about traditional comfort, but she can offer her own brand.]
There's nothing wrong with you. No one's going to judge you for what you've gone through. I can say that with certainty because I'm not private about my own past. And as you just said: we've so many of us suffered. If anything, you're likely to find understanding and commiseration.
If anything, it's testament to your strength of character, to survive all of that and come through it as you have. You aren't broken. You haven't let it define who you are. It doesn't rule your life.
[That speaks of strength, not irreparable damage.]
no subject
[She looks up at Lust for a moment with peaked brows, eyes dewy with the sticky sort of tears that don't want to fall right off the bat. She doesn't like to show this kind of vulnerability in front of anybody-- even Envy, although Envy's seen it more times than most.]
[As for Lust's compassionate words, it's the closest to an open offer of sharing that she's ever heard from the other woman, and she's not sure if she wants to take it or not. Not because she thinks Lust would be horrified or disgusted about what she'd hear or anything, but because even with the offer, the details still horrify and disgust Heather.]
[But she finally speaks, after taking a brief swipe at her nose with the back of one hand. Her voice is thick, but she's not crying.]
... You probably know plenty about how cults work, how it's people getting-- mm-- vulnerable people targeted and drawn in, how the belief of the majority is probably genuine but at top, the people in charge usually know damn well what they're doing and it's never for the reasons they give to the masses, right?
no subject
[Lust nods. She's well familiar with how it works. Charisma and promises given to those who need hope most. She understands. It's not any different from how her master operated. The principles are all the same. The bitch hadn't ever believed a word she'd fed them.]
Fear is only a useful tool if it's tempered by hope and sweet promises. The two go hand in hand and it's a combination that is especially effective on the lost and vulnerable.
And the young.
no subject
Yeah.
I know I spent a lot of time in that video just going on and on about the kids.
[She's sure that it was obvious even before she explicitly stated it that she herself had been one of those children. But as though growing up in that nightmarish environment wasn't bad enough, that's hardly the tip of the iceberg. She still doesn't know if she wants to penetrate deeper and release any of the dark, deleterious things that have been frozen there, but this topic may never even come up again between them. And how many times has Heather kept something to herself for fear of overstepping some unspoken boundary, be it her own or the other party's, only for the calendar pages to slip away and that person to disappear?]
I dunno exactly... how many generations this cult went back. It was old, I think. Very old.
But I know that the ones in charge when Claudia and I were little girls knew exactly what was going on, the whole time. They orchestrated it-- they engineered it.
... I keep saying 'they'. I guess it's not a lie, there were-- there were lots of people in on it, it went deep and wide, but... what I should really be saying is she. My mother.
She was the mastermind, and all the people on the ends of her strings were just her weapons.
Even the children.
... Especially the children.
Especially one child.
[Her voice is thick now, dripping with utter disgust.]
Sometimes I think about why I always got along with you guys better than a lot of the humans I know.
And I think it's because I had a Master, too.
And I did... unspeakable things.
All for her.
Because she promised we could be a happy family.
[She lets her head sink into her hands. It's like she predicted, talking about it brings the bile right back up. She doesn't want to hate that helpless little girl from her memories. But sometimes it's impossible not to, when the sick, hot shame overtakes the anger at her oppressors.]
Kids are so fucking stupid. Why are kids so fucking stupid?
no subject
[Lust shakes her head, the word coming out firmly but not unkindly.]
It's not stupidity, nor is it the folly of youth. Anyone who has ever had any amount of hope can so easily make the same misguided choices. Look at what you did it for, the promise you were made. A family. God, I think sometimes that's all any of us really want, in the truest depths of our hearts.
[She's done the same. She killed and massacred and lied and destroyed for her master, all because she believed in the promise of humanity. The life she thought she was supposed to have.]
[Maybe it was foolish, but not stupid.]
I'm sure I've done as many, if not more, unspeakable things. They're done. We can't change them, we can't...make it better, in any way. All we can do is move on and be better.
And you have.
no subject
[Lust is right, of course. Totally and completely. Honestly, she usually is. But especially about this. Heather agrees, even if knowing the truth does little to neutralize the horrid, acidic hate that fills her up whenever her thoughts approach this thing too closely.]
... Yeah.
Yeah, I have.
I know I have.
[It's simultaneously voicing her agreement and reassuring herself. But even so, she doesn't lift her head. It's easier to keep her eyes in her hand, the pressure keeping the unshed tears in where brute willpower won't.]
... I guess it's just...
What it took, in the end, to be free of it... all the horrors aside, all the fighting, what it took was her deciding she didn't need to keep me on her side.
That was what woke me up.
I didn't get to pull the wool from my own eyes and realize it on my own, she just dropped it like a dress that didn't fit.
It wasn't until she found a new use for me that didn't require my cooperation that I finally realized she was never gonna keep that promise. That was what it took.
She was a fucking fool for doing it, but it was still-- her-- doing.