OPEN - I wanna know who you are

[cruelyethuman]

CHARACTERS: The Darkling and YOU
LOCATION: Around the station during downtime
DATE: Every date until the next mission
CONTENT: Meh, Darkling doing darkling stuff- but in space!
WARNINGS: None? Morally grey stuff?



i. Returned. Infirmary

[The transition to the station is less smooth this time, and the Darkling stumbles away from the drop-point, letting go of Alina's hand as he takes an unsteady step to avoid the utter disgrace of falling flat on his face.

What's left of his clothes has been dried out from the heat of Alina's Light, but it's still torn and covered with plaster dust, sticking uncomfortably to his skin and the blood has dried out in to flaky maroon.

He walks slowly towards the infirmary, right hand clenched around his side to stop the bleeding. Once inside, he rummages through drawers and cabinets, pulling out clean gauze, water and alcohol. Needle and thread, in case he needs it, putting it all out in a neat row. Slowly, carefully, because most of his left side feels burned, skin pulled too tight and near-blistering from the Small Science that seared what was left of the poison out of him before the fall through the floor.

The Darkling peels off his shirt, trying awkwardly to reach around on his back where a piece of glass is sticking out.]

Excuse me? If you could just pull on that for me.

ii. The Sunlight room

[The days drag on the station. There's nothing to do, except fall in to his own mind and work on the block that Rhysand seems to think is possible. Unless that too is a trick, another lie to worm his way closer.

The Darkling sits under a tree with the false sun shining on his upturned face, letting it warm him in ways the blankets and the heating of this place never could. It might be a simulation or something equally mysterious that powers it, but the rays are heated against his skin and it's something else to look at other than Kovacs or the pale walls in their room.]

Move.

[And without opening his eyes, he adds a-] please.

iii. Kitchen

[Without a mission, or even a clear goal to plan for, the Darkling drifts through the station, watching the other orbers go about their business. The careless way they might interact, who talks to whom and which rooms people go in to.

There's an idleness to this that grate on his nerves. That makes his skin itch, and he heads off to the kitchen to find something to eat, now that most people seem to have had their fill, thus leaving it mostly empty.

Sliding in to a chair, he grabs the tray of food, stabbing it as if it had personally insulted him.]

iv. Training

[The sense of boredom grows with every day, his body unused to this life. Sitting for long periods of time without anything to plan for, or to do, makes him restless, and the Darkling finds himself in the training room again.

Trying to burn off excess energy by punching a bag that hangs from the ceiling. For once, the Darkling isn't covered from head to toe in black, but has opted for a white shirt and loose dark pants that might once have been pajamas, his hands covered with black leather gloves and sweat making his hair stick up.

Punch after punch, hitting the bag until he's breathless and panting, muscles aching and mind a little less loud in the quiet of the room. When the door opens, he glances over before nodding at the row of weapons.]

How are you with a sword?

v. WILDCARD

[Throw anything at me, as the Darkling is lurking around in the shadows on the station when he's not in his room. Or hit me up at ireth

Comments

[spacedisaster]

Ah, that. [ See, any other person might not have been able to get what the Darkling meant, but Peter has lived the last 3 decades traveling the galaxy. ] When I was first taken to space, I had trouble adjusting too. I couldn't tell day hours and night hours apart, and often lost track of time and forgot to sleep. But there are tools that help with that. You could use a wristwatch to keep track of the hours. Do you have those in your world?

[ It's comfy staying like this and if the Darkling isn't inclined to kick out Peter, he's happy resting against the other man and letting the fake sun warms them up. ]

I would have moved eventually, I just wanted to check if you were okay after the mission.

[cruelyethuman]

A pocket watch.

[But the time is still meaningless, when they're waiting indefinitely. There's nothing to do and no way to plan for might come next, when the missions are random and the orbs so hard to find.

The universe is infinite, or so the saying goes. The universe and the greed of men, but floating in space makes that a little harder to believe in. It might just be something told to the youth, to keep them on the narrow path already selected for them by those who think themselves better. Wiser.

His own mother was like this once.]

I will adjust, thank you for your concern.

[There's no reason to be kind, except for the fact that Vivica spoke of team work, and the Darkling is less than willing to go against her word. She knows too much, and there has yet to present a way to guarantee her silence.]

I am always fine. [And after a small silence, he opens his eyes to look at Peter leaning so close against him and closes them again, letting the false sun shine on his face. The only part of him not covered in dark materials.] And yourself? You survived.

[spacedisaster]

Hm...sort of, yes. Pockets watches are what my people would call vintage. But they look fun.

[ The universe is infinite, that much Peter had discovered himself while trying to discover it all. Infinite mysteries and infinite adventures, countless people to meet. And while all things die, that doesn't make going out there and discovering as much as you can about them any less worth it. Quite the opposite, in Peter's opinion. ]

If you are sure. [ Peter still has his eyes closed, but his eyebrows go up a fraction, disbelieving of the Darkling's last words. He has used the mantra 'I am fine' fair too many times for them to no longer have meaning. He finds them hard to believe. ]

You know you are allowed to be not fine, right? [ Peter makes a humming sound after that. Yes, he survived. He usually always does. Is the people he cares about who always end dying. After a moment, Peter opens his eyes, resting his head back and looking up at the three over them. ]

I've met Daisy during the attack at the Loretta's. She tried to kill me.

[cruelyethuman]

Fun?

[With the tone of voice that says that the Darkling does not do fun. At all. In his life, there is no place for fun, frivolities are for the less people. People without burdens to bear and without a care for the future.

His lips twitch up in a smile after a second or two.] I've never heard of it.

Who could possibly deny me that right. I know, thank you.

[Except for the hard learned lessons from his mother, and from every other moment in his life that had any meaning at all. There had been times, in the past five-hundred centuries, where he had lost hope. Lost the will to be anyone, and had traveled the world to forget who and what he was.

From the far reaches of the Wandering Isles to the freezing mountain ranges to the south, he had walked everywhere. Taken any job to stay warm in the winter and to eat, and he was fine.

He learned, just as his mother had predicted, that there was no running from who he was and what he was destined to do.

The Darkling opens his eyes, looking Peter over one more time. There's nothing missing, and he's obviously still alive.]

She must not have meant it, since you're still breathing. She is -[a lot of things. Powerful, for one. Emotional. Beautiful, in her red dress but somehow more beautiful when she was in the horrid sleep-wear provided by the family and making jokes about the gambling dens and the strange food.] Good at handling herself.

[spacedisaster]

[ Peter laughs at the reply because the man might claim not to do fun, but the dry snark can be really entertaining sometimes. ]

I could try to teach you. No promises on how it would go, though. My sort of fun involves dancing or rolling my hips in one way or another. [ He gives the Darkling a playful nudge with his elbow. Staying under the sun it's too nice and relaxing for serious conversations, and Peter is trying to keep a degree of casualness. ]

Hm, well I'm just saying that if you ever want to exercise the right to not be fine, I wouldn't judge. I've felt like that plenty of times and even if it looks uncomfortable, it does help to talk to others about it.

[ Parents can be deadly wrong sometimes, Peter had learned that both from Yondu and Ego. He would only really call one of the two a real father, though. Or rather, he would use the word 'daddy', but saying that last word out loud had sometimes gotten him funny looks. ]

I'm really hard to kill. [ As if he feels eyes on him, Peter blinks slowly and stares back at the Darkling, offering a little smile. ] And no, she wasn't in her right mind. One of the traps at the Lionetta's headquarters messed with her senses, it was a room full of weird gas. I won't hold it against her. We already talked, the poor woman felt so guilty about it when she found out about what happened. She's very strong, uh? Did you and Daisy managed to make amends?

[cruelyethuman]

I know how to waltz.

[As if that answers Peter's question about having fun. Formal dancing was taught at the Little Palace, if only because the tsar demanded that Grisha were able to present themselves according to their station. To give performances like trained animals at the whim of a bored and lazy despot.]

I think we've already talked enough about what might be on my mind, thank you very much. But if you'd like, I am very good at listening.

[The small confession about Daisy, despite how it was to fulfill his own personal goal, it had not been a lie and the advice had helped. A little.]

I suppose being hard to kill comes in handy when you're off saving the galaxy. [Most of the people on the station seemed to be hard to kill, with few or hardly any weaknesses. Tough people, handpicked by a machine to find the orbs and make them whole again.

It could be worse. They could all lean to the side of being a very fragile and easily killed piece of bait, like the pretty young woman.] I'm- familiar with the room in question. And the room after that. For all their shortcomings, they did make very inventive traps.

We have talked.

[spacedisaster]

Fancy, but now what I had in mind. I do know how to slow dance, but I never tried the Waltz, what if you teach me how to dance it and I show you what disco is about?

[ Peter would pay actual money to see the Darkling disco dancing, no lie. Maybe just introducing him to some good songs would be enough of a cultural shock and not a bad start. ]

Duly noted, thank you. I can't think of anything important to share about myself, if something comes up, I'll tell you. You seem good at keeping secrets. [ He's rather relaxed right now, and while Peter has a list of issues longer than his arm, those can wait for another day. ]

It does. You don't know how many bad people we manage to piss off on the regular. Comes with the territory. [ There's casualness in Peter's tone, and he doesn't sound at all worried. He's used to being a wanted man, for good or bad reasons ]

That they did. I couldn't get past the laser grid, not without getting cut in half, so I was looking for a way around that particular floor, went back on my steps, and I met Daisy. The rest is history...[ Peter is silent for a moment, shifting to have a better look at the man's face, looking more curious and concerned. ] Did it go well?

[cruelyethuman]

What is disco?

[A slow shrug that brushes their shoulders together, sitting as close as they do under the tree.]

I can teach you how to waltz. I can even teach you how to lead.

[The only place on the station that doesn't feel entirely alien, the sunlight room. The sun on his face and hands, the warmth of it seeping through his dark clothes.

Secrets, and holding confidence, when secrets were worth more than gold. at least that's the way in Ravka, and the Darkling suspects that this aspect of human nature is a constant.]

I am, yes. How do you decide if the person you piss off is a bad person or not. Because they are not the one paying you, or how does that work. From a practical point of view.

[When morality is painted in all gray, trying to find out who might be the worse choice becomes harder.

What Peter sees might be the Darkling, head tilted back against the trunk of the tree with his eyes closed. A pinched line between his eyebrows and the thin line of his mouth.]

We talked. Briefly. She seemed- fine.

[spacedisaster]

Only just about the most upbeat genre of music you can imagine. It's a bit outdated now, I've been told, but some songs are just pure masterpieces. I need to play for you the song 'September' from a band called Earth wind and fire, it's fantastic.

[ A lot of people have Opinions™ about disco music, some not very good ones, but 'September ' is one of the greatest songs of all time, and only those with bad taste don't like it. Peter has faith that it would be a good introduction to disco for the Darkling. ]

Ey, I do know how to lead...most of the time. But sure, that sounds good. First the butter churning, and then the dancing. If we met a third not!date, I might have to give you a kiss. [ Peter's teasing, of course, his tone light and cheerful, but he figures that the Darkling will get it. ]

We're not mercenaries, we don't take any jobs just because we get paid for them. We're trying to leave the Galaxy better than we first found it. We do like to get paid every now and then, because we need to eat and maintain our ship in good condition, but he wouldn't turn our backs on someone who needs help just because there's nothing in it for us.

[ They might not be perfect, in fact, a lot of people often question the Guardians' sanity as a whole, but they do have more. they all have suffered at the hand of crueler people or were abused in some way, and they don't want that to happen to others. ]

The Guardians answer to distress calls, help protect important places or people from monsters, and we occasionally deal with assassins and slavers. My.../There's a very brief pause, as if Peter is trying to decide if the words are right before he decides it is.../ my adoptive dad used to be a child slave, and he had no love for those who traded people like they were nothing but valuable cargo. [ Yondu still stole children out of the fake belief that he was returning them to their parent, Ego; and when he figured the truth he kept Peter, but that's a too complicated subject of conversation for today. ] I also want to point out that both Nebula and Gamora are very good at investigating people and finding out their real intentions, and that another of my teammates, Mantis, is an empath. She needs to touch people for her powers to work, but she can tell when someone's being dishonest.

Peter looks at the Darkling with concern showing on his face, even if the other man isn't looking.

She seemed fine but are you happy about your current situation with her?