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ximilialog2022-01-08 12:12 pm
- ! event log,
- ! open,
- altered carbon: takeshi kovacs,
- doctor who: clara oswald,
- doctor who: the doctor (11),
- fear street: ziggy berman,
- grishaverse: alina starkov,
- grishaverse: the darkling,
- gundam seed/destiny: yzak jule,
- knives out: marta cabrera,
- marvel comics: gwen stacy,
- mass effect: kaidan alenko,
- mcu: daisy johnson,
- mcu: shang-chi,
- pacific rim: hermann gottlieb,
- pacific rim: newton geiszler,
- pacific rim: raleigh becket,
- star trek aos: james t. kirk,
- star trek aos: leonard mccoy,
- star wars: finn,
- star wars: l3-37,
- the old guard: andromache,
- the untamed: jiang yanli,
- towards the terra: soldier blue,
- transformers: drift,
- transformers: megatron,
- yakuza: zhao tianyou
MISSION: BAD COMPANY, PART 1
● ● ● M I S S I O N 4 . 1
This time it’s barely past noon when the familiar ping of a message alerts you that a new mission file is finally available: it’ll read Scorpion’s Bend, and the file’s arrival is immediately accompanied by Viveca’s voice.
To help you blend in, I’ve prepared bundles of clothes for each of you, rations for those with special diets, and enough of the local currency to buy you a few nights in town. After that, you’ll have to provide for yourselves. I’ve also divided you into groups, and each group will arrive at the town at a different time… so those in the first group, prepare to live in the town for a month or so, while waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. Make up a good story, and don’t blow your cover.
The instructions are clear: after you’ve familiarised yourself with the file and its contents, you find that, indeed, there are neatly laid bundles marked with a name in the common room providing appropriate clothing to help you blend in better… and is somehow tailored to fit you perfectly.
Unlike previous missions, there will be plenty of time to talk to those in the same group as you, to come up with plans and stories that’ll explain your arrival in town. And as the two days pass, you all gather to the center of the station again, some for the fourth time, some for the first — it is not only Viveca, in her robot body, who is there to see you off, but Degar as well. He tips an invisible hat in your direction.
Having probably seen far too many bad spaghetti Westerns, Degar sends fingerguns in the team’s general direction before blowing a breath off the tops of his fingers and re-holstering said fingerguns into equally invisible holsters at his sides. It’s really all extremely cheesy, and he knows it – made obvious from the slight grin on his face.
The platform hums to life as Viveca, too, smiles at the gathered team — even if there’s some tightness to it.
The increasing noise of the teleportation machine nearly drowns out her words as the light around you grows brighter, brighter —
Until it’s all you can see, and the familiar tug drags you away into nothingness. There, the echoing voices speak to you once more, laying out the goal you have to complete… and then, without a chance to respond, you are wrenched away through time and space.
As soon as the light dissipates and the voices die away, you are left floundering in the darkness — seconds, at most, as each of you is sent to a set time on the planet. But how you arrive will depend entirely on when you arrive.
1.0A: GROUP 1 Awareness returns to you as you find yourself on your feet, suddenly standing in the Mayor’s office with a half circle of twenty other Orbers just as mildly disoriented as you are. Madam Reilly is positioned in the centre, her fierce eyes shining with approval as she looks up to meet your eyes.
She rounds her desk, studying every new arrival with care.
She sounds sincere enough, but the glint in her eye betrays her, telling you that she’ll likely expect that the hospitality be repaid through hard work and the wealth it will bring the town.
So take the voucher, thank the Mayor for her audience with you, and leave to do a little exploration; and as you do, many of the locals will wave at you, though some might eye you with suspicion. As Madam Reilly said — it’s been a while since any previous wagons made it to town. New arrivals are … well. They’re something of a novelty.
1.0B: GROUP 2 The first thing you register when you regain your wits about you is that the wagon you’re sitting inside of suddenly stops, making you jolt. Above you, the steady sound of rain hitting the wagon’s fabric cover with increasing intensity fills your ears.
Without preamble, a youthful voice from outside shouts:
With nothing to do but brave the rain and leave the confines of the wagons, you follow your fellow Orbers out on shaky legs. Once outside, blinking away the rain in your eyes, you see riderless horses pulling the wagons, parts of their heads replaced with metal.
It won’t take long before you realize you are in the middle of the town road, and in front of the wagons stand two people: a large man with an eye-patch, and a smaller, young alien with sparkling eyes.
Deputy Duke speaks with a bright grin — one that the Sheriff doesn’t share.
His one eye scans over the Orbers who are slowly getting soaked in the downpour, and snorts.
Somehow, his cheerful disposition makes the threat not really sound like much of a one.
Still, they both watch you carefully as you walk past them. Where you go next within the town depends entirely on you, but the signs pointing to the Saloon and Inn are clearly visible, and you’ll likely want to get out of the rain. And who knows, there might even be a few familiar faces already here to greet you.
1.0C: GROUP 3 You wake up with your face buried in something rough and dirty, paired with the sensation of someone shaking at your shoulders. As you blink your eyes open, someone’s face is too close to yours, a face you’ve never seen before in your life, and they’re dressed in rough-hewn work clothing. They take a step back, crouched on their haunches, but the relief in their eyes is palpable. With a sigh, they shake their head and then yell:
As you get up, you’ll see others dressed similarly, all miners, rousing familiar teammates around you. Scattered in your immediate surroundings are the remains of several wagons, a piece of a roof cover flapping uselessly against a large rock. When all of you have woken — some hale and hearty, some with scabs and bruises, some with bleeding cuts — one of the older miners approaches you, his gaze taking in all your faces.
One of Rex’s miners shouts and the others laugh, hastily helping the rest of you up on your feet to escort you along the road that leads into town.
Perhaps you’ll let yourself be helped, or you’ll rush to help those who have been wounded in an attack you can’t remember … or perhaps you’ve already left the others behind to go into town, to see what it has to offer and to meet those who have come here before you.
With all the introductions said and done, it’s time to take to the small town of Scorpion’s Bend and scope out opportunities for the remainder of your stay. For those of you from more temperate, wetter climates, you might find that desert life takes a little bit of getting used to. Two suns beaming bright white rise high over the cloudless horizon, soaking the land with hot light throughout the daytime. With the dust and debris and very little lush vegetation, it’ll be easy to find yourself quickly heating up, where the only form of shade in this town is found within the establishments themselves and under awnings. The evenings do bring beautiful sunsets, however, with a spectacular sight of the five small moons of Badrock glowing like dim spheres of varying sizes across the dark, night sky. There are very few stars out and the temperatures drop dramatically when the suns are down.
2.0 A Bed Too Large: In front of Crow’s Tooth Saloon and the nearby Thornbush Inn, you’ll find seating as though these buildings can read your mind and understand the need for quick refuge from the scorching temperatures. This is where you’ll be able to find yourselves beds to sleep on tonight.
Crow’s Tooth Saloon is an especially lively hub throughout the day. Mornings will see a cluster of miners grabbing breakfast before their trek out to Guncross Mountain — small breakfasts of eggs and sausage and the blackest coffee; noon will find the desk-job men and stablehands congregating for lunch and a drink — sandwiches, biscuits and meat pies with alcohol; and by mid-afternoon leading into the late night hours, fathers and sons and daughters and miners will have returned for dinner and a chance to let loose before the day’s events repeat again the next day. The occasional lone rider might be found at a table some nights before heading to the next town over. A couple of miners, both younger and old, keep to themselves, sitting alone with their whiskey at the bar. The pianist, Tommy Jellison, makes his wages by playing the evening into the wee hours of the night for tips, spinning jubilant tunes on the keys with his five hands, and belting out the odd vocal accompaniment. Sometimes there will be games of cards and coins, and opiates and stimulants aren’t uncommon: both to obtain and to use. The owner, Emzi Hanegan, turns a blind eye to most of the latter.
But Thornbush Inn won’t be void of life either. A three-story rectangular building with painted black and white exterior wood walls, Thornbush Inn can easily be found not far from behind the Saloon. This is where travelers, not all that frequent lately, will come to stay during their time in Scorpion’s Bend. The Innkeeper, Terrance Trawley, has been doing this for a very, very long time, and boy the stories he could share, once coaxed, would paint a colourful picture of the town’s history. Rumour has it he’s been known to embellish a few details every now and then, though. "Adds flavour," he says. You’ll be welcome to keep a room while you’re here, but he'll encourage you to keep a roommate if you do — space is limited and so are the coins in your purse, but would you be needing the turndown service at all?
3.0 For a Fistful of Dollars: Turns out the money you’ve received to spend in this town goes out sooner than you’d like. This means making quick work of integrating yourself into the workforce by offering your services and using those airtight backstories to find a position best suited for you and your fellow townsfolk. For those of you who are good with people, you may want to speak with the owner, Priory Halhast, of Scorpion’s Bend General Store; she’s always looking for bright, gorgeous faces to greet customers daily, take their orders (simple and practical items such as hygiene products, toiletries, cleaning products, basic cooking ingredients and the like), engage in a little small-talk, and to offer the occasional home delivery service. If you’d rather keep to yourself, ask her about working as a stockist or helping to keep some of the books in the back in order.
Similar positions can be found at the Trading Post, where all it takes is a quick chat with Lawturn, the gruff, bearded stocky owner in the poncho and black stetson. Dealing with imports and exports between other towns, they’ll be expecting strong hands and quick minds to handle some of the sales and incoming stock for the town. Sometimes this includes spare wagon parts and food and supplies for the animals.
And speaking of animals, for those of you who have a sixth sense with them, or simply want to avoid the chatty townsfolk all together, the Stablemaster, known simply as ‘Horseshoe’ could always use an extra set of hands to help with the grooming, feeding, cleaning, and maintenance of the horses and other animals, as well as the travel wagons. The Stables can be found near the Trading Post; it’s just a quick-ish jog (if you can stand the heat) to the large wooden barn in faded red wood where you’ll be greeted by the sounds of dogs, cows, chickens, sheep, owl-shrews, varkdogs, and flower mantisaurs.
4.0 The Good, the Religious and the Spicy: Over the month, some of you might find that even in a place as small as Scorpion’s Bend, there is disparity between the cleaner, ‘nicer’ parts of town versus the more dilapidated and seedier areas. The town’s segregation isn’t quite as clear-cut with the main street and its numerous businesses acting as a central hub for all of the townspeople. However, the schoolhouse and the church, Celestial Mercy, stands proud on one end, while Sindown, the town’s infamous pleasure house marks its place on the opposite side and are often referred to as the ‘Light’ and the ‘Dark’ sides of town respectively, and not always with a smile.
The schoolhouse is directly connected to the church, and the children in Scorpion’s Bend spend most of their days at their desks learning to read, basic arithmetic, history, science, and the planets. While not exactly off-limits to the Orbers, in order to keep disruptions of the childrens’ education to a minimum, the headmistress, Joella Friegrass would prefer scheduling appointments to speak with her or any of the other staff in school.
Some of these students will go on to become teachers at the school, indoctrinated into the Sect of the Eight Divines, or otherwise find positions throughout the town. While not closed to other practices of worship, Father Alois of the Celestial Mercy mainly preaches the gospel of the Eight Divines and would happily spend time explaining this religion with you. The church itself is a brown wood building with a peaked roof and long, arched windows lining the sides. Above the doors is a small bell tower, used to mark celebrations, funerals, the beginning and end of a sermon, and other special occasions.
If you decide to make a thorough exploration of the length of the town, you’ll inevitably wander over to Sindown, the Bend’s pleasure house. Sindown is owned by Madame Rella, whose brief appearances at her own establishment only ever seem to happen during the latest hours of the night, and only for long enough to check in on her clients and workers, and to ensure the peace. She isn’t a woman to be reckoned with and anyone who winds up on her bad side will find themselves regretting it for the rest of their days. Find someone you might want to have a night of pleasure (or pain) with, book a room within the house (with all of the comforts provided), and be sure to pay upfront. Or simply stick around for the drinking, the drugs, and the nightly card games shared among the townsfolk and vagabonds with higher stakes than those you might find at the Saloon.
5.0 After Hours: When the novelty of the stetsons and ponchos have worn off like the shine of the spurs on your boots, the more observant Orbers might find that the whole town feels just a little off. The incoming stock coming into Scorpion’s Bend never seems to change, and so the food at the Saloon arrives at breakfast, noon, and dinner without a hitch, always exactly the same, and all of it tasting just a little less flavourful the more you start to analyze it. Eggs and sausage and bread, for example, all start to taste like the same thing.
Everyone’s got their routine, including you, and you might start paying attention to those schedules as you continue to work at your job, explore the establishments, and speak with the townspeople — both the regular folks of the day-to-day, and the ones with a little more power and sway in the town. Every now and then, someone’s temper might flare up resulting in a dramatic bar fight amongst the drunk and those who happen to arrive at the wrong place and time; or you might watch as a couple of the Saloon’s patrons challenge each other to a noontime duel. Try not to make an obvious target of yourself as you explore the town, of course, or you might wind up in a bar fight or a duel of your own. Don’t have a gun? It might be time to find one.
6.0 Out of Town: Any hooligans and lawbreakers will find themselves facing Sheriff One-Eyed Wilson and his Deputy before you even have the wherewithal to utter: ‘yee-haw’. The Sheriff might only be working with one usable, clear eye, but he’s always been the fastest shot on this side of Badrock and he protects this town with everything he’s got. Petty crimes and rowdy behaviour will be punished in levels of severity ranging from warnings to fines to nights spent in the town jail.
One night you might wake up to the sound of shouts and gunfire. If you aren’t already awake, or if you never went to bed in the first place, you might be able to make out a group of figures on horseback, hollering and hooting with pandemonious glee as they ride through town, their faces covered by scarves and wide-brimmed hats. These bandits dash for the stores with the intention to loot the town for everything they’ve got before making their way out with their spoils. Remembering that this could be the last of the incoming stock for weeks, you might want to join your fellow Orbers and residents alike to defend the town from the pillaging or face weeks of struggling recovery.
A substantial population of Scorpion’s Bend is made up of miners who have snatched up the opportunity for work and a promise of prosperity while in town. Early in the morning, every morning, those who have jobs at the mines wake up before the sun rises, have their breakfast, and head in split directions: some to Guncross mountain, and others, including you, to the mines located right at the edge of the town, for another hard day’s work. Wagons full of workers make the trek every day, digging for the wealth that lies underground: ore and metal and precious stone used in the formation of construction materials, jewelry, and other treasured items. It’s a lucrative enterprise but to maintain some semblance of order, all workers must first be approved by the Miners Guild, not always an easy feat for newcomers. You’ll learn that to be a full member of the Guild and have access to the mines on Guncross, you’ll need at least half a year’s work within the town, but prove yourself and you may have opportunities to gain some experience at least.
7.0 The Ecstasy of Ore: The wagon leaves just as the moons fade for the night and the barest hint of the suns begins to warm up the sky with light. You’ll be packed in with other townsfolk just like you: eager to get to the mines, or maybe still drowsy with sleep, or maybe a combination of both. During the trek there, one of the older miners might be inclined to share a bit of advice with you, give you the basic 101 in mining. “Keep a lookout for the shiny stuff,” he’ll joke. He looks to be in strangely good spirits for someone up so early.
You’re dropped off by the front with your gear and your fellow miners as the sun continues to rise. Soon it’ll be scorching hot but until then, you feel comfortable, maybe even a little chilly. You’ll be working alongside people who look human, and an alien race called tunnel hounds who have a particular talent for this sort of work. If you want to learn quickly, you might want to speak with one of them.
The tunnel is carved deep and bright lanterns lighting the way inside, hung on a long line of rope every six to ten feet (1.8 to 3 meters). As you work your way deeper, these lights become more and more sporadic, however, so it may be a good time to turn on your torchlight and continue with the group. The reflection of your light will inevitably catch on a shiny surface lodged into the tunnel around you and in crevices further in. It’s this metallic ore that you’re meant to be harvesting; this is the 'shiny stuff'. As you get to work, sweat forming along your brow, the rhythmic sound of your pick-axe pinging against stone, you may or may not hear a silent hissing sound in between. One of the tunnel hounds will suddenly reach out to stop you with sharp claws, and then make a silencing motion before gesturing to the flame-coloured serpent coiled near your foot, too close for comfort. This is an embera, a reptile that can infect their victims with a fire-hot venom that burns the blood in your veins until the heat of it kills you if the pain doesn’t first.
Avoid getting bitten by these creatures that seem to make the tunnels their home; and if you do, there’s still a chance you can seek help if you do it quickly. The effects of the venom are slow (but still painful) and will be at its peak in a few hours.
8.0 The Countdown: Anyone that decides to explore the Scorpion’s Bend past the mines and tries to head to the desert or towards Guncross mountain may find that their long walk forward only leads them back into the other end of the town, strangely like they’ve somehow walked an entire loop. No matter the trek, this trajectory never seems to change. You might try leaving from the east, for example, only to wind up entering directly into the west side of the town.
Of course, you could try and ask around for an explanation to this bizarre occurrence, but even the most sensible of townsfolk will look at you with reactions spanning anywhere from sympathy and pity to amusement and disgust. Most will laugh and think that perhaps you should lay off the whiskey, maybe grab another black coffee. Others will simply think you’ve been out in the sun for too long or you've been chewing gravel. Either way, it might make you think; after all, that lone rider from the other night had left by the next day, hadn’t he? And what about those bandits chased out of town?
F Y I
• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.
• To submit a search request speaking to any NPCs mentioned in the log, trying to overhear conversations, or exploring any specific place during any of the prompts, please do so HERE.
• And finally, have a soundtrack for this log! ♪ ♪ ♪
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-------- TIME SKIP ------
[Just before dawn two days later, Clara will find Gleb waiting by the side of the school, swathed in shadows and with his hat tipped down to hide of his face, the black poncho flapping in the cool breeze as it blows in from the desert.]
Good morning, ma'am.
[As he steps forward, letting the light of the lantern on the side of the school find him.]
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I thought we'd have breakfast outside.
[Of course, he doesn't really have a say in the matter. She's politely telling him they're going to eat outside.]
The sunrise is absolutely beautiful, and there's still a few hours before the children start to arrive.
[She leads him toward the back of the school so they can see the open sky up above. The basket is set down and she works to lay out the blanket for them to sit on. ]
And I also thought we should establish some ground rules for how things today are gonna go.
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Cruelty is next to mortality in most humans, he finds, having watched them for far too long. The outrage isn't even there anymore, at betrayal or an assassination attempt. He bares the scars of every one he's lived through, all the failures to cull his ambition and ruin his people.
So, he sinks to the ground, perched on the blanket with his hands resting on his thighs.]
There are no rules, miss Clara. Every order, or I fail.
[Which is not an option.]
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She doesn't give him one apart from arched eyebrows as she sets out bread and butter. All of it tastes like dirt, none of it is keeping them healthy. But it's there if he wants it. She abstains, choosing to instead look up to the sky.]
I want to play a game.
[Her eyes don't look to him when she speaks, as she's too busy taking in the different colors of the slow sunrise unfolding before them.]
I ask three questions, you give me three answers. Honest answers.
[It's a way of testing him to see if he's capable of following the sort of orders she values the most. Oh, there's fun in making him do heavy lifting and silly things with the children at school. She'll delight in telling him to take her horseback riding and to dance with her to the ridiculous music that's played on the piano at the saloon. But information is what Clara always truly prizes. It's the only way she knows she can have an advantage over the powerful people here. Her newfound magic isn't competition for what others here can do, which makes her aware that information is still her greatest strength.
Even if she has no intention of asking things that are cruel or meant to make him squirm. There are some things she's curious about and sees an opening to make him answer.]
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He had seen it used as a threat or a promise, a silent wish granted or something to withhold to gain compliance.
Why Clara is offering it is still unknown, but he grabs a bun, buttering it as he watches her profile.]
Of course.
[The same sort of game that seemed to be in favor on the station - honesty and he cannot find it in him to be surprised, that she would take this chance offered so willingly to her.]
To the best of my ability, I will answer you honestly.
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Even if she wants to get him to answer some personal questions, she's not intending on doing anything to harm him.]
Alina called you General Kirigan. I thought Kirigan was your first name. But obviously it isn't. What is your real name?
[Clara feels like that's a simple enough question. It's prying but not so much that she thinks he'll find offense. Or at least she hopes he won't.
She reaches over to take one of the breads and nibbles at it, ignoring the way it tastes like dirt.]
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He pulls off a piece of the buttered roll, popping it in to his mouth, chewing slowly.]
That is what she knew me as, for most of her life. [The Black General of the Second Army, the Grisha General. Kirigan. That is all anyone knew him as, as friends and soldiers died around him, as the world changed but not enough.
But he was no more Kirigan than he was Gleb. Or Eryk. Or a thousand other names and titles that he took for himself along the way. His lips press together, a white line in his pale face, half-hidden by the scruff of beard.]
My real name is- Aleksander. [That slight pause before speaking, eyes cutting from her face to watch the school building in the background.]
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But that's one question down and only two more to go. It's funny how three of something can feel like plenty until you're left with only two and you realize it's not nearly enough. Her eyes linger on him, watching and observing. It's obvious she's still trying to figure him out. He's a puzzle, and an addicting one at that.]
Your shadows.
[When she finally speaks again she looks away, taking the time to butter more of the bread for them both. Another piece is handed off to him before she takes hold of the other.]
I've never seen anything like them. I still remember seeing you for the first time in Gyeongje. You were tall, dark, and handsome. But so incredibly powerful. Are shadows the only powers you have? The only magic that you can use?
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[Before she even hands him the roll, suffering under the scrutiny of her big, brown eyes. He's been watched by rulers of sovereign nations with less intensity but he meets her gaze, eyebrow raised.
His Small Science wasn't a secret, it wasn't something buried deep and hidden from the view of strangers. It wasn't something he held close to his heart, the way he did his true name. The name he almost forget several times over, despite the tattoo of it on his heart. The boy he had been, the man who got married and who was said to have died on the Fold.]
I can't do magic and that is very offensive. I have Small Science, something with history and solid theory to back it. I do not make something from nothing- [except, it wasn't that farfetched, was it. To speak the words and feel merzost slither through his veins again, that bone-deep longing for the rush of pure power as he tried to create and army to keep his people safe. To feel it again, the ability to create did not lie solely in the Making at the Heart of the World.]
I can summon shadows. And I can amplify the powers of others with a touch.
[He tips his empty hand to show her the palm of his hand, the work-rough pads of his fingers and the sand ground in to the lines.]
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Her fingers trace over his hands, careful to let her touch be fleeting. ]
I wonder if it would amplify my magic.
[It's not a question, but a leading enough statement that he may feel inclined to answer. Not that it matters, because she's already formulating something they can go do after school lets out for the day.
She leaves the questions where they're at for now, saving her final question for later. They finish breakfast with idle chatter about powers and her thoughts on needing to become stronger to be a more valuable member of the team. By the time the sun has fully risen, Clara picks up and ushers him inside the schoolhouse to start their day.
He acts in various roles that day, entertaining the children some, and acting as a disciplinarian for the ones that misbehave despite her sharp warning looks. He helps some of the older children with their handwriting and reading, and she finds herself watching him without caring if he notices.
By the time the school day is over and they're left to their own devices, she has him do some heavy lifting of stacks of books and chairs. Eventually she insists he escort her out past the stables, where there's a bit of open space past the few homes that are gathered in the area. It's there that she suggests he take hold of her hand while she concentrates on her charter magic, seeing if he perhaps can amplify what she's able to cast.
With her hand outstretched she looks to him, eyebrows arched.]
Would it help if I told you that it's an order?
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What she does, and what she doesn't do. The patience and the notes of genuine joy when the children show off terrible drawings or misread simple words. If she's faking it, she's better than he thought. Much better.
The silence of the stables is a balm on fraying nerves once she drags him out of the stuffy classroom and the warm scent of horses and hay is- good. Familiar. Eyeing Clara's hand, he takes her wrist in his hand, fingers reaching around her small wrist easily.]
It might.
[He wasn't made to follow orders, which must be why this is his sacrifice, because just hearing it from her pretty pink lips, makes him want to refuse. But of course he doesn't, there is nothing more important than the mission. Than undoing his regret and make his sacrifices worth it.
Fingers locked around her, the back of her hand resting gently against his palm.]
Do you feel anything? I've heard it described as- feeling confident. A surety in your own power. A call that you have to answer.
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It could be your Small Science isn't compatible with Sabriel's charter magic.
[It's an interesting distinction for her to call it Sabriel's. It's not hers, not in the same sense that it is the young woman's. It's not a part of her the same way, even if she has a charter mark and is learning. For Clara, desperation to be useful has her spreading herself thin to try and learn too much. Her magic is unfocused and not as powerful as it could be if she dedicated herself to it.
Still, she calls upon the charter mark for fire. A small flame forms in her raised hand, going from orange to blue as she focuses on intensifying the heat. It's hard to tell if she's able to do it because of him, or because she's trying too hard to make herself seem capable.
In the end, the fire in her hand is sent outward in a warm burst, smothered as it lands in the sand. Even that's enough to drain her, Clara wobbling as she leans up against him for a moment of support.]
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And finds- nothing.
Sabriel herself had it, her magic singing through him with a touch. Her essence mingling with his on Braccia to rebuild and reinforce the protections around the headquarter but he feels- nothing, with Clara.
Her skin is just skin, blood-warm and alive, under his touch. In his grasp, she feels like any other human.]
It doesn't work on everyone. Here, I mean.
[Daisy, so powerful and beautiful, her hands splayed against the trembling walls and he was helpless.
He has theories, ideas of why that might be. That not everyone has the connection to the Making, despite the evidence that they should have. The power that flows through their veins just different enough, bound to something else hard enough, for his own threads to fail.
Her hand falls from his, and he takes her weight easily as she falls against him.]
I only know how it work with people like me, that it works at all with anyone from a different world is... a miracle.
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That's the thing. I'm not like you. Not like Daisy or Alina, or Kovacs. I'm not like Sabriel. I don't think I'm meant to be trying to do this at all.
[So why does she keep stubbornly trying? Why can't she just accept the fact that she's painfully, ordinarily human? The answer is standing right in front of her. Most people here are like him. Strong and powerful, able to contribute to missions in ways she can't. She's desperate to be like they are, to try and make herself better.
This is a stark reminder that at the end of the day, living dead girls don't get to be anything more than they already are.]
I wanted to be special like you all are so badly that I've lost sight of myself.
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That very human desire to be more and refusing to bow to the limitations set by the Making.
Or, Clara was like Daisy.
Unreachable.]
I can't feel everyone here.
[A soothing tone to his voice, as he chews on another piece of the buttered roll. The taste of nothing and ash on his tongue, but he swallows it down with water.
He shrugs.]
I can't even amplify all of the ones who clearly have some kind of ability. [Did Kovacs have that?] I am not without flaws, even in my Small Science. You might one of the ones that I can't- touch like that.
[She had held fire in the palm of her hand, she was something.]
How did you loose sight?
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[It's a soft and honest answer. one that makes her blush because she feels so stupid and vulnerable admitting it. But if he can let her boss him around for an entire day, then she can be a little open in return.]
I can't just be the person that takes care of everyone and makes others feel better.
[Why would the orb want to keep her around if that's what she has to offer?]
I've got to track down the orb and help obtain it this time. I've got to prove I'm capable of doing it.
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What use was the otkazat'sya, when Grisha could do better at every task? Cannon fodder for a tsar that would never be satisfied, even if the whole world bowed before him? Warm bodies?
But Clara had- magic? Not Inferni as he knew them, but still. She could call the fire and it heeded her summoning.]
Prove to whom?
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I'm not sure. Myself, maybe. Or the rest of you here, so you'll all know I'm useful in some way. Or maybe it's the orb. I can't ask it for a favor when we go back if I'm not able to be of any use to it in the long run.
[Which is probably the underlying issue to her drive to feeling like she needs to become more. She feels she has something to prove to the orb, to make herself seem appealing somehow. For the first time since they've known each other, she looks to him with a lost look in her eyes. For someone that's more clever than she lets on, it's the first time she hasn't had the answers on the tip of her tongue.]
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[They had all been picked, the hand of fate that had plucked them all from the different universes or timelines, the water that didn't simply flow in one direction but in all directions at once. The proof that the Making at the Heart of the World had threads spinning through the fabric of reality.]
The orb already knows how useful you can be, that's why it brought you here in the first place. They know everything about us- [The books or notes, that the commander had mentioned, that Viveca had talked about. The secrets that were no longer secrets to the hands that moved the pieces around on the chess board on the station.
They knew everything, every button to push, every lever to pull, to make them all dance.] And you have nothing to prove to anyone else.
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If I hadn't proven myself, would you be bothering to speak to me right now?
[Because she's doubting it. With the way he looks at her sometimes, like she's a mystery and a threat wrapped in one package, she isn't sure he wants to speak to her at all.]
I know what I'm capable of doing. I just wish I was given the chance to prove to myself I'm still able to do it, is all.
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[She was- interesting. Easy to underestimate, and pretty enough to make most stop questioning her. Or her motives.]
Perhaps not. The memory of you throwing yourself at the oncoming wave of enemies to save strangers, is not an easy one to forget.
[Neither were her too-observant questions about Alina.]
Do you want me to notice you, Clara?