ximilialog | ( OPEN ) they say you grow,

[ even though it's one of the aforementioned erratic hours of the night, she'd made a pitstop to grab some snacks and a drink first - a handful of cookies and a dark bottle of whiskey - before moving to the training room to get out some of her own pent up energy. it's hard for her to keep track of time on a regular basis, so being in space does not help. 3am (4am??) seems like a perfectly logical time to work out in the training room as far as andy's concerned. ]

[ she blinks up at the blinking lights, not particularly bothered. electricity is so new in the grand scheme! ]

Are you speaking from experience or is it wishful thinking?

A little of both? I'm hoping I won't give Viveca and Commander another good reason to send me home.

[ politely, she doesn't mention that all of her thoughts qualify as wishful thinking, lately. no need to drop the weight of her tragedies onto someone else's shoulders. instead, she pivots to peer over her shoulder at andy, equal parts sheepish smile and straining grimace.

a wave of her hand cuts through the air, dispersing a plume of cloudy smoke from a burnt bulb. once her eyes refocus, they dart to the neck of andy's whiskey bottle. with a lift of her eyebrows, she hazards, ]

Does physical exercise fill you with the urge to drink? Because I'm starting to feel the same way, if that's the case.

[ andy's posture says "completely fine and unbothered" but diet says "rough night and on the brink of a possible mental breakdown." alina, her appetite, and her habitual self-projecting would know. ]

If a broken light angers them enough to send someone home, then I'd really question their point of view. [ there has to be spare light bulbs on board?? or surely viveca can just summon them in like she brings in the goodies they all often ask for too. ]

[ listen alina. sometimes anything fills you with the urge to drink. ]

I haven't actually exercised yet, but it's important to stay hydrated. [ with WATER, andy. she debates for a moment whether or not to offer to share, not because she's greedy about her bottle so much as she's not sure it's a good idea? but that would involve acknowledging her own bad habits, so: ] You want some? Unless you have a few more dummies to beat up first.

[ her tone is impressed by the damage in the room. ]

[ her eyes linger indecisively on the bottle. and then, with a roll of her shoulders that seems to announce to hell with it, she bridges the distance between herself and andy. ]

They're a poor substitute for the real thing. Terrible conversation partners, too.

[ but it's fine. she's fine. it's only a little drop of morbid humor in the proverbial cup, much as she's enjoyed imagining aleksander's face plastered across each and every practice dummy. at least they don't speak horseshit back to her, charred or not. ]

I was trying to learn something new, but it's not working so well for me.

[ and her independence rankles at the possibility of crawling to the one person on this ship who could hone it, teach her the intricacies. and so, the logical conclusion would be to continue on —

which is precisely why she's in no mood to do that when faced to a (temporary) cure for how her past few weeks have been going. she holds her hand out, politely waiting for andy to deposit the neck of the bottle there. a bad decision stacked on more bad decisions can't possibly cause more trouble for her.

not when she's already at her threshold of trouble, lately. ]

Edited 2022-08-02 23:40 (UTC)

Nothing beats a real moving target, but that's probably a little more difficult when it's magic you're using. [ she can fight a person hand to hand, but she imagines throwing light around like alina does, or any of the other magics she's seen on board, means a real opponent is harder to come by. andy is still working on fighting against magic herself. ]

New things can take a while to pick up, especially if you're not in a great mood. [ which isn't a reflection on alina so much as the whole crew getting back from that mission. andy's not sure anyone's in a good place for new, but judging by the state of the dummies, alina fits squarely in that box. ]

[ andy pops open the bottle with thoughtless ease and holds it out. ] Just don't drink it all on me.

What gave it away? [ her mouth cracks open like egg yolk, spilling out a rueful smile. ] The unfairly brutalized practice dummies?

[ humor, at least, redirects the conversation away from a topic she's still too sore to address. even the faintest step toward that subject grazes against bruises that have yet to fade. her fingers snag along the neck of the bottle to bring it to her mouth a touch too eagerly, contents sloshing like an angry sea from the turbulence.

in fairness, she doesn't drain it before andy can have a turn. but there's no overlooking the long pull she takes from it without wincing. one doesn't simply survive in ravka without developing a steel tolerance. of all the army had prepared her for, taking a bullet and taking a shot hadn't been far apart in terms of training.

she drags in an inhale once her lips pop away, messily wiping away droplets clinging to her chin. when she holds the bottle back out to andy, she confesses, half-pensive, ]

I'm not sure we have time for me to be so slow at mastering something new.

[ her own face flickers with a grin. ] It's hard to call it unfair when the point is to beat the shit out of them anyway.

[ the fruits of her labor, so to speak. but they are pretty torn apart, which speaks to a combination of her powers and her mood in one. they're an easy target in that sense, and andy has definitely left a few of them decapitated in the past. ]

[ alina drinks with ease and familiarity, and andy would know. it's one area of expertise she's realized she shares with a lot of people on board. she takes the bottle back and knocks back a few large gulps without hesitation, only without a mess on her end. ]

Does what you can already do not work as needed now? [ it's not like she's spoken directly to alina about her powers, but she knows of them idly at this point, just from the way these things get around on board a tiny ship. ] I mean, it's always fun to learn new things, but is it that pressing?

Only as pressing as all matters of life and death. You've seen the missions they've sent us on.

[ for all that sarcasm runs dry, there's a marked weight to it, a gravity that suggests it isn't a humorous exaggeration. their fountain of luck has to erode and empty, eventually — but it's what waits for her in ravka that sets her mind spinning into self-destructive spirals.

if she doesn't learn to adapt, she may never outlive her role as a well-loved martyr, gone before she could save anyone — including herself. she rubs her fingers together, sticky residue of the wine clinging to their pads, as she redirects her eyes toward the burial ground of dummies she's laid to rest. ]

I've only had my power for a year. [ her face scrunches into a pinch. ] That's not true. I've had them all my life, but I didn't discover that part of myself until much later. I could use all the training I can get before we're shipped off to our next doomed world.

I have. I just didn't see what you could already do as particularly novice.

[ the missions are exhausting but andy knows she isn't coming back from them feeling the same fatigue as some of the other orbers. the decisions they make, the problems they face, they're all familiar, even when the species or reasons are new. they're tiring, and andy is already tired. ]

But I don't blame you for wanting to see them grow, in that case. [ she takes another sip or two from the bottle. ] I still think training tends to be more productive when most of your focus is on the task rather than dealing with a wandering mind. When you say mastering something new, does that mean the power itself, and not just a new move then?

[ it's kind of andy to say so, though — she supposes it's unfamiliarity, more than a charitable assessment to spare alina any sore and chapped feelings. ravka might have been impressed at the spectacle of it all, but she hasn't forgotten the rising tally of casualties on the war front, nor the souls lost on the unsea — another death, another loss, that can be attributed to her slow progress.

the edges of her smile strain like paper mache, easily crinkled. compliments, inadvertent or direct, have never been comfortable to receive — a gift too rare for her to take it at more than face value. ]

Tell them to my old teacher.

[ she says instead, wry. her finger form grabbing motions at andy's bottle for lack of anything else to occupy themselves with, not unlike a polite raccoon. ]

A little of both? Some Grisha can master their element until it becomes as sharp as a blade. They say it requires — [ here, her lips screw up into that same self-mocking smile. ] — great skill and great focus. So ... everything I'm lacking in abundance, as you can probably see.

Edited 2022-08-20 07:05 (UTC)

[ all magic is impressive to andy because before ximilia it was all fairytales. even the smallest bit of skill and ability seems big enough for her, but she knows her perspective wouldn't be the same. ]

[ as for the old teacher, it's a little joking, because she doesn't mean to make alina feel uncomfortable - ] Sure. Point me in their direction.

[ she passes over the bottle easily, thoughtlessly. it's important to nourish raccoons. ]

[ sorry alina, andy speaks russian, so when she hears grisha, in her head it simply becomes something else. ] Wait, you're one of those Gregs? Grisha? Whatever. Saint Greg and some other bullshit. [ she won't linger on it, she's just sorry for the unfortunate naming conventions of this world. ] Any skill can be practiced, inherent or otherwise. Maybe if you're worried about your focus you can work on honing that sometimes instead of the light magic itself.

[ she doesn't have to analyze where andy could have possibly heard of their kind. of course the darkling would be espousing grisha politics whenever and wherever he pleases — to curry pity, no doubt. a villain in sheep's skin, pretending they're all vulnerable lambs in need of a savior to shepherd them along to safety and greatness.

a sour-lemon frown puckers alina's mouth; the long gulp she draws from the bottle hardly washes the bitter burn away. ]

I'm one of those, [ she says, flatly, with no intention of hiding how unfond she is of that way of addressing grisha. she's been one of those to too many people throughout her life, even if andy skims over it without the same vitriol spouted alina's direction. ] Grisha. Calling us "those" is a bit rude. We're already different enough.

[ filtered speech, thy name is not alina. still, she hands the bottle back over without fuss or any further remarks on the subject. ]

How does someone train their focus separately? [ with a squint, she wryly hazards, ] Writing lines until your fingers cramp?

[ don't worry alina, she honestly forgot like 90% of what he told her, minus the way her brain can't stop translating the word. the entire conversation was 90% andy doing shots and wondering why this weird man wouldn't stop talking to her. ]

[ but - she hadn't meant to be insulting. it just caught her again by surprise, hearing an entire magic system named after a man named greg. alina's bluntness is even a little welcome. ]

Sorry. I'll remember that for the future. [ it's a genuine apology. ] I promise I don't think the magic's that weird. The word translates off in my head and I'm an asshole about anything faintly religious.

[ you know, she offered the advice, but it's not like andy's needed to train much by the way in her own focus in a long time. nicky would probably be the better guide here. ] Writing lines is bullshit. I guess it's more like... figuring out a good way to keep your mind on task. If you're too distracted, maybe grab a snack and do something else for a few minutes.

[ the easy concession is — unexpected hardly embodies all of alina's (pleasant) surprise. any other soul in ravka would have punished her for having a tongue as blunt and bold as a hammer, before they'd known her to be the sun summoner. but andy smooths over it so graciously that any ill-feelings fermenting inside of alina dissipate, forgotten and forgiven. ]

Faith was invented by men in power so they could stay in power. I understand — you could say I'm well-versed in the subject.

[ words of wisdom from a canonized saint. that status itself is only evidence of the extension of influence it is — hope to keep hungry hearts desperate enough to believe, and fear of persecution and devastation to keep them obedient. the corners of her mouth tip, like she's withholding an inside joke meant for an audience of one. ]

At that rate, I think I'll be getting festively plump before I'll gain focus. [ — which isn't necessarily an unappealing thought, if the alternative is drowning her frustrations in the ximilia's pantry. still, she blows out a breath, slicing through the wryness. ] It sounds a lot like hoping it'll come to me on its own eventually.

[ good news, even if andy did know what being the sun summoner entailed - or what it even was - she would still welcome the lack of manners. ]

[ the comment about faith makes her snort, then she swallows back a few large sips, the whiskey pouring smoothly down her throat. ] At least you figured that part out early. Direct involvement really kills the faith.

[ she's been worshipped as a god and put on the executioner's holy block, so she's run the gamut of religious experiences. they all suck in the end, and she too sounds like she's speaking from that aforementioned subject expertise. ]

[ she tilts the bottle towards alina like a pseudo-toast. ] That's the spirit. I'd give you a cookie but this is barely enough for me. [ she's already eaten half her stock. she nibbles one of them with a small frown. ] It comes with a lot of practice, which is probably annoying to hear. But the better you are at something, the less you think about how you might do it wrong. You just... do it. The practice itself comes easier on a full stomach.

I don't know. All of that pressure makes me want to spill last night's dinner all over my shoes.

[ you know. the ones she isn't wearing, wriggling her toes into the padded floor. but the sentiment persists — not once has her stomach felt settled, forever rattled by a nauseating cocktail of shame and guilt. maybe that queasiness is just the temptation her insides have to spill out, every organ desperate to escape the responsibility of keeping alina starkov alive.

it's delivered good-humoredly, at least. breezy enough that she doesn't seem so swept away by her responsibility, despite how misleading such an impression truly is. ]

It is annoying to hear. [ but sullenness aside — ] So that's all? Practice makes perfect? I'd think being certain I'm not going to get it wrong is begging for the universe to prove me wrong.

In that case, I'd suggest a nap first. Sleep off the nausea and food coma. [ she can roll with the joke easily, but also naps are great so it works out. she's really showing her priorities here. ]

[ andy lifts the bottle again, drinking enough to drain it about halfway, though it's not entirely her doing, so she takes another sip or two for good measure. ]

[ then she shrugs, very helpfully. ] That's how it works for most weaponry, but I don't have any magic so I can't guarantee it's not different. I know what I can do and I know I can do it well because I've done it a thousand times. The movements might not always be without mistakes, but it becomes instinctive over time. Getting it wrong once in a while isn't the end of the world.

[ she also has the advantage of her healing and the centuries it brings with it, but it still came with practice and lots of learning. she hums, a little thoughtfully, as she takes another sip. ]

What's your favorite part about using it?

Favorite part?

[ she balks in the face of that question and the uncomfortable examination it provokes. the attention, she might've once said — ravka's treasure plucked from the dirt they had once beaten her into, and polished into a shining diamond. the love that had been offered, before she'd realized it was born from something selfish and carnivorous, in a country that would pick her bones clean just to profit.

discomfort knits her brows together, tugs the corners of her mouth down into a pensive frown. ]

I don't know. [ if this were an exam, alina knows her answer shouldn't be the inherent intoxication of having power at all. stalling, she diverts her stare to her fingernails, peeling old smudges of paint from their sides. ] I spent a long time repressing it, and I paid the consequences for it.

Nothing felt right, for most of my life. Even food tasted differently. [ helplessly, she grasps for an injection of ill-timed humor. ] I suppose I like that dessert doesn't taste like ashes anymore. But I haven't found much more of a silver lining to being what I am.

[ her mouth flickers with a grin, however ill-timed. ] A small nice thing is still a nice thing, especially when it comes to food. [ she can hear joe's voice in her head, teasing and proud of her for being so vaguely optimistic, even against what's clearly a joke. ]

[ she sloshes the bottle around, then takes another sip. ]

My favorite weapon is my axe. What I can do with it isn't pretty or nice or often even good - but my favorite part is how it feels in my hand anyway. It's familiar and it's steady and it's mine. [ being alive as long as she has... it's miserable. she's tired of it. her axe has gone through as many transformations as andy has, and sometimes she doesn't want for either of them to become chameleons again. ]

[ but - joe, nicky, booker, they always seem to grow around her anyway too. ]

If you can't find your silver lining alone, there's no reason someone can't help you. And I'm not saying me. Sometimes there are no good parts to what life throws at you and it's easier to make our own instead. You said it yourself all of this is new to you. I'll let you take a raincheck on the answer to your favorite, if you want. You don't even have to tell me, if you ever find one.

[ she drinks again, the bottle now half empty. ] But you should consider looking for one. Even if it's just liking the way your hands glow.

[ i like that it's mine. it rests on the bridge of her tongue, never quite bold enough to take the leap. because it's as equally the truth as it is a lie — the desire to claim it, the urge to be rid of it. the impulse to see this responsibility carried by a pair of hands other than her own, and the refusal to let go of it.

she casts her gaze down at her hands, flowering open to stare at their callouses and ridges. one day, she might find the glow to be comforting, rather than blinding; one day, it might warm her instead of burn. but that day isn't today, and she's certain andy can read that as plainly as a bright blue sky. ]

It's not the worst assignment I've ever been given. I'll think about it.

[ her eyes find andy's, lips puppeting up in what's only a half-convincing smile. the face of a woman feigning optimism to avoid raining on someone else's day. a flickering plume of smoke catches her eye from the corners, puffing out from a mannequin's tarnished corpse. ]

But I doubt I'll find it here. [ in this room, surrounded by her own failures. as for the ximilia — the sad truth is that she's come closer to the possibility here than ravka would allow. there's no good part of her power within ravka's boundaries when every part of it feels like a death sentence. martyrdom tastes as bitter in her mouth as being under the darkling's thumb. her smile quirks higher, a warmth that doesn't find her eyes. ] It's yours now. I've done enough damage for the day.

[ without waiting for an answer, alina slinks out the door, leaving andy with the sprawling massacre of mannequins she'd left in her wake. ]

( OPEN ) they say you grow,

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