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ximilialog2023-03-31 11:34 pm
peasant) wrote in ximilialog2023-03-31 11:34 pmEntry tags:
peasant) wrote in ximilialog2023-03-31 11:34 pm
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vaguely, she gets the stomach-churning feeling that she's a mouse being batted around by a cat, just to see what she might do.
she dips her gaze to the edges of a book, smoothing her finger over its sharp corner to rub away a grain of dirt. the vulgarity of it, at least, doesn't cause her to so much as flinch. once you've lived among soldiers — most of them immature boys, youthful and cruel — crudeness for crudeness' sake becomes less jarring. ]
That's not what I said.
[ beneath the overhang of dark eyelashes, she gives him an inscrutable look. nearly impossible to decipher, for all that she's been so easily emotive just seconds ago. perhaps it says more of him that his immediate thoughts turn to abuse, to neglect — but alina has the grace not to comment on it. whatever he thinks of her, it strikes her as callous to try to drag whatever demons he's harboring into the light.
perhaps it's an undeserved mercy, she thinks to herself, but she won't poke and prod curious fingers at his sore spots they way he'd pressed on her bruises. ]
I'm not speaking on something so fragile and easily shattered as hope, or trust, or faith in the world. They're still kind in ways that the rest of us aren't, or have forgotten how to be.
Wounded children don't lose that ability. They just learn to become wary of who they share it with. Very few of the children here have had to learn that lesson yet.
[ she won't be the one to teach them. time, she supposes, will. heartbreak. failure. betrayal. watching those around you suffer. all the ways to lose your innocence and unfiltered compassion. maybe it says something about her, too, that she resists the compulsion to tell him he could stand to earn a tip or two about kindness from someone like finn. ]
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You think you’re not kind?
[He sounds amused and vaguely incredulous.]
You couldn’t stand to watch a complete stranger fall victim to the elements on an alien planet. A stranger who, as it turned, you don’t even like. And even after he offended you, you continued to try to help him. You only gave up after he pushed you to the limit of your patience.
[Yes, he found her patronizing and called her on it, but he’s not going to deny that she was coming from a place of kindness. He even tried to give her that credit at the time. It might have been part of what he found irritating to begin with, if he’s honest, he doesn’t know how to deal with that sort of thing.]
I don’t know what your world is like. I’m sure you’ve dealt with pain. But you’re not as hard as you think you are. Or maybe as you wish you were. You still have a good heart.
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warily, she blurts out, ] Is this some sort of joke?
[ out of anything he's said to her, it's that that twists her face up in skepticism, gawking at him as though he's suddenly sprouted a second head. possibly a third one, too, for how incredulously her eyes dart between both of his. maybe it's what qualifies as a joke to him. or, perhaps less kindly, playing with her head is what brings him amusement.
her arms tighten until the corner of a book prods her sharply in the sternum, like it's some protective barrier against him. ]
According to you, I'm not a good person. Remember?
[ good intentions don't make you a good person. of all he's said to her, that's what's stuck under her skin the most, a thorn embedded. it had felt like a slap to the face, then; it still does upon remembering it. one first impression of her, and that's what he'd taken away from it about her. ( and maybe she isn't, after all that's changed inside of her — a doubt that creeps in more and more these days, a slow-acting poison of crippling paranoia. ) ]
You've made your feelings toward me painfully clear. Let's not pretend you suddenly have a pleasant opinion of me.
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[He supposes he can see how that could be taken as a direct shot at her, but it wasn’t. It was a very general statement, aimed perhaps as much at him as anyone else. He had good intentions once. It didn’t matter a whole lot, in the end.]
I also said there was kindness in you, but maybe not everyone would notice because of the front you put on. [The haughty petulance and all that.]
In any case, I don’t think you're as clear on my feelings as you think you are.
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her lips roll together, uncertain. even so, there's a certain amount of confidence in her when she declares, ] You dislike me. You've been very plain about that.
[ she doesn't, at least, sound insulted this go around, merely matter-of-fact. if anything grates at her, it's the injustice of finding yet another person who has judged her on the basis of appearances — repulsed by what's on the surface. if it had been earned — his or ravka's mislike — perhaps it would sting less.
it has to be true, whatever the case, of his feelings. why go out of his way to tease her otherwise? why the long, considering looks like he's making another note among the many reasons she's poor company? she huffs out an exhale, peering off to the side. ]
That doesn't leave much room for misinterpretation.
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[He puts his hands in his pockets and leans against a nearby tree.]
I found your attitude a little annoying. Self-righteousness is grating to me. Call it a personal failing.
[It's the sort of thing that reeks of hypocrisy to him. But it’s also something he’s trying to work through, in his own way. Assuming the worst of people. Resenting those who try to do good when he’s felt powerless to make such attempts himself.
He's not even sure she means to come off as self-righteous, actually. He sort of doubts it at this point, if she’s really just fronting to protect herself.]
It’s possible to find someone annoying but still likable. [Or at least, it is for him.] Everyone has flaws. I have nothing against you.
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[ for all that he's called her kind, there's no warmth in her smile. it's a humorless thing, sharp around its edges, like she'd expected this from him. braced for it. even in insisting he doesn't mind her, he has to find a way to strike her at the knees to bring her down, in case she decides to feel too tall. too comfortable. ]
Not every person who wants to help thinks of themselves as some holy being on a crusade.
[ whatever ravka thinks of her, she's never believed in the portrait they've had of her. sankta alina, their great savior, come to purge ravka of the black heretic's sins. the saints, as she had known them, were only ever a disappointment. not someone to idolize, but someone to blame when no divine intervention came to save the ruins of her childhood. ]
It's like you purposefully want to find fault in the people around you, so you can reassure yourself no one is ever truly too good of a person.
It's a bit unfair, don't you think? Deliberately testing the limits of someone's patience, just to judge them by their worst moments? Is it easier for you to accept someone else's kindness once you've picked apart all their flaws, or do you just want to prove you're justified in being jaded?
[ she's seen the same in kirigan, of course. the same justifications. the world is cruel, so he has to be equally cruel. otkazat'sya had tried to persecute them, so the only solution would be to slaughter them in return. chishiya doesn't strike as being so maniacally ambitious — or ambitious at all, really — but there's something to be said of soothing yourself, justifying yourself, by looking for the worst in others. ]
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[It's a simple, short statement of agreement. He understands what he is now, after everything that happened in Borderland. He doesn’t see himself as tragic or sad. He's not inclined to get defensive about it or make excuses. It is what it is.]
I’ve seen the worst in people, so I assumed the worst. I’ve told myself humans are inherently selfish, that they’ll only look out for themselves and their interests and condemn everyone else to suffering and death. Even the ones who claim to be good and righteous. So what’s the point? Why bother to try so hard?
[He sighs.]
But I’ve also seen the opposite now. It’s the only reason I’m alive.
[Well, that and some truly obscene luck.]
But, having said that, I was never judging you. At least, not from any sort of moral standpoint. I just wasn’t inclined to sugar coat how I perceived your attitude. And I wasn’t actively trying to push you to the limits of your patience, either. It just kind of happened because…well, I guess I liked arguing with you.
[More than she liked arguing with him, unfortunately. But he doesn’t really blame her. There’s a reason he didn’t follow her when she decided to leave.]
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if nothing else, it might have been satisfying to irritate him.
she smothers out the tiny spark of surprise in her eyes, after a flash of a moment. in the silence that follows, there's nothing critical that warps her expression — only the quiet thoughtfulness of someone who lets it sit in the air, as though his confession deserves space to breathe and time to process.
finally, ] If humanity were so predictably one or the other, our lives would be less complicated.
[ but that's the crux of the issue, isn't it? she'd admired kirigan, at one point, with the same respect zoya and genya had offered him. believed in his crusade for grisha like the rest of his lost ducklings. propped him on the same pedestal ravka had elevated her to. and though he'd been a monster — she still has to live with the complexity of knowing she had loved him, once, when all she had seen was the humanity in the cracks of his cruelty.
revolting as that feels, most days, knowing he had inherently changed her for better and for worse. she resituates the books in her arms, jostling them into a more comfortable position. from her scrutinizing look, it's difficult to discern whether she's accepted his explanation for what it is. after a lingering moment of chewing the inside of her cheek, though, she seems mildly placated. it's a better result, really, than any severe doubling down she might have anticipated from him.
faintly, the edges of her mouth twitch. ]
If this is an apology, I only accept them in the form of chocolate or groveling.
[ which is a way to say — some bickering with him is pleasant enough, when she means to brattishly provoke it. like now, for instance. ]
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He hums in something like agreement.]
Maybe so.
[But then he raises his eyebrows at her…peace offering? Seems a little like an offer of truce. He glances at her, amused.]
Ah, well, I’ve never been any good at groveling.
[Or apologies in general, actually. Which probably won’t surprise her. Look, at least he knows his faults.]
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[ she does not, in fact, look or sound any shade of shocked. that sounds on par with her impression of him. if the ground they were treading didn't feel so fragile, if she was confident her boldness wouldn't lend itself to another accusation on his part — she might voice the thought swirling in her head. namely — he'd probably fuss about the inconvenience of investing effort into kneeling.
truly, she might have expired from actual shock if he had acquiesced to her uncommitted and ridiculous demand.
her head tips, faux-concerned, before she expels an airy breath. it rings suspiciously too close to amusement, which is to say: considering it an olive branch extended, for now, is a fair assertation to make on his part. ]
I can fetch a pillow for them, if it helps.
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A pillow won’t help much, if my joints don’t work.
[Although, perhaps ironically, he’s here to find a place to do some stretching and yoga, actually. Or was, before she distracted him.]
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[ a flick of her eyes skims his knees, flitting back to his face. her eyebrows lift, almost expectant. or what would be expectant, if she were solemnly committed to the idea. breezily, she continues, ]
That's alright. But I'll have to postpone my forgiveness until my conditions are met.
[ surely he doesn't care for her absolution at all. that he's even extended an explanation to her is more than she might have expected, after his seeming apathy; more than some others have bothered to give her, in fact. there's no need to press for more than the truth. if there were any doubt she wouldn't hold him to some sort of contrition, she taps a drumming rhythm on the back of a book's binding, and then moves to skirt past him.
there's still a spot in the sunlight and a questionably written book calling her name, after all. ( more than that, there's no need to scurry back to her room and pretend she's not going to read, now, just to save face. ) ]