General Kirigan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cruelyethuman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ximilialog2021-10-17 04:34 pm
cruelyethuman) wrote in ximilialog2021-10-17 04:34 pm
OPEN - I wanna know who you are
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
ii. The Sunlight room
iii. Kitchen
iv. Training
v. WILDCARD
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 atireth
no subject
You could've just been honest with me.
[There's no anger in her tone this time, just disappointment.]
About your feelings for her.
no subject
[Except for how it isn't about feelings with Alina. It's a primal pull, her Sun to his Darkness. They have been fated since the beginning of time, since they were created at the heart of the world. Forever linked through Small Science and the will of the universe.
She was his, in ways he cannot put in to words, and he was hers just the same. There could be no shadows, without light.
Alina was his hope of a better future and the salvation of their people, without her, more Grisha would die. It was not feelings or emotions that drove him to seek her out, time and time again.
He had no more choice in listening to that call inside of him, than Alina had.]
I was- [a pause, as the Darkling takes another sip of the water, draining the glass.] ashamed, perhaps. Embarrassed. Feeling like less of a man.
[Cost and benefit, balancing without slicing himself to ribbons.]
I took that out on you, and I shouldn't have.
no subject
There was obviously some history between the two of them, and while it's none of her business she's just trying to better understand.]
Ashamed of what?
[She doesn't say anything in response to him admitting that he lashed out on her, because what could she say? He's right. He shouldn't have taken it out on her.]
no subject
What happened at the party. That our little break-in to the lower headquarters didn't yield anything of value.
[Snapping his eyes back up to Daisy's, he shrugs. Because it's not a complete lie, he had felt all of those things for a brief second. An endless moment before remembering who he was and why he was here, the empty space between heartbeats before reality reasserted itself.
He was there for the orb, nothing more.]
I made a mistake.
no subject
It's not easy for her to just say she accepts his apology, because she doesn't. Not fully. He's at least seeing what he did was wrong, but she still remembers how she felt when he lashed out on her.]
Yeah.
[He did make a mistake. At least he realizes it now. She could drill into him over and over again that what he did was wrong and how much it hurt her, but where would that get them?]
I want to trust you, but I don't know that I can.
[It's an honest answer, and there's no bite to her tone. If anything, it's clear that it hurts her to admit it.]
no subject
Daisy is powerful. A worthy ally and too dangerous to be an enemy, too willing to injure herself while using her inhuman powers to be left alone.
The Darkling swallows hard, watching his fingers on the glass.
They might be here for months. Years, even, since the numbers of orbs needed to succeed was never specified. Yet another mistake, to leap at the chance to undo his regret without reading the fine print or asking questions. Blinding by the opportunity as soon as it presented itself like a fool.]
I have told you about the persecution my people is subjected to back in my home world. The terrors we face-
[He looks up, eyebrows drawn together in a frown.] You were there, when I saw Luda. She was my wife.
[Was. Had been. His last love before merzost slithered through his veins, scorching everything in its path. Before Alina and the promise of hope.]
She died, because of me. What happened at the party reminded me of her, of what I had once and lost.
no subject
I'm sorry.
[And she does mean that, having gone through loss of her own more times than she cares to count. Was that his reason for being here? To try and bring her back? Those are questions she wants to ask but thinks better of it. It's not her business anyway, and people here didn't seem to openly talk about their regrets in general.
She could talk about how she relates to that on a personal level, but the idea of opening up to him now makes her uncomfortable. Instead she just lifts her glass to take a sip of water, no longer making eye contact with him.]
no subject
[The loss less imminent now that the poison has been burned out of his system. Luda's death was too long ago and the road not taken overgrown with wild flowers and barbed vines. The Darkling knows that he must have loved her once, to have grieved her so terribly.
But it is a dim and distant thing these days, and even less, with Alina squirreled away somewhere on the station. Hiding, or whispering to that man. To Rhysand, who was almost like him. Who controlled the shadows lurking in every corner, but without the lack of emotions the Darkling prided himself of.
It isn't regret, that drives him to confess to Daisy. Nothing as human or simple as that, he wants her. On his side, fighting next to him when they deploy to the surface of yet another alien planet. He wants her loyal and smiling, her hands lingering just that second too long against his sleeve and her hair falling in to his face as they sleep.]
It's no excuse for why I behaved like an absolute brute, but - [he tilts his head, chasing after her. Trying to catch her eyes again.] it's the truth.
[And Alina. Always Alina, sunlit and breathtaking in her golden dress, sunlight spilling over her cupped hands and warming his skin. Her lips on his as the world righted itself on its axis, the feeling of hope and surety that rose in him with every-]
I hope that you will forgive me. In time.
no subject
[She still misses Lincoln, even after all of this time. She's only recently been able to let someone else in. Making eye contact with him, a frown breaks through her thinly veiled neutral expression. Daisy wants to believe him, especially after having seen all the hurt he experienced at seeing Luda.
She might be able to forgive him, depending on his actions in the future. Of course she doesn't tell him that. Still holding eye contact with him, Daisy smiles sadly.]
Well, we don't seem to be in short supply of time around here.
no subject
[Not if his time could be measured in years instead of decades, but after a couple of hundred years, all faces start to fade. The world keeps turning, but the people are just pale imitations of what came before.
It took years, before he stopped looking in to the faces of his Grisha, trying to remember if he knew them or if he'd simply seen a similar face a decade ago. Or two, or from before Os Alta rose as the capital. Decedents, all sharing the same eyes or the same shade of hair, and Small Science ran in some families, thick as blood.
Removing himself from the training, ensured that he didn't end up calling the wrong name or trusting the wrong person. He handpicked a few every ten to fifteen years, learned who they were and what they needed and he let them go before he could start caring.
Mostly.
Luda was an old wound, scabbed over and near-forgotten but Daisy wasn't. He doesn't mirror her smile this time, but the Darkling nods slowly, eyes never leaving Daisy's face.]
That we do, unless the next time is our last one.
no subject
I guess we never really know.
[Daisy finishes off her glass of water and sets it back on the table. She feels better, having talked with him about this, but she's still left with a bunch of mixed emotions anytime she looks at him.]
I should--
[Daisy gestures behind her with her thumb before getting to her feet.]
I need to go speak to Newt about something.
no subject
[Except death. For other people. Once the missions come to an end, Daisy will be nothing but dust. A memory long forgotten as he moves on, rebuilding his world in his own image, so why do he not want her to leave?
Fingers twitching around his own glass, the Darkling inclines his head.]
Maybe some other time, then.
no subject
Maybe, yeah.
[She knows if she stays here any longer she might do or say something stupid. It's better to just leave the conversation where it is. Which is why as soon as she's got everything situated in her hands she hurries off.]</small