three. voice & private & spam. glory & gore go hand in hand.

[indispensible]

If there were people who wanted to learn to dance, I know . . . other kinds.

I don't know how to cha-cha. Mark can teach that one once he wakes up. [:|]

[Also, Nathan, you don't get a choice.]

private } stark

[You probably don't get a choice either.]

What are you doing.

private } kelsier

I need to.

We should talk.

spam } marsh

[Vin is currently playing a stimulating game of 'acclimatize myself to Marsh's presence', which manifests in following him around for five-minute bursts at random times of day, whenever he emerges from his sad cocoon. She's not making a particular effort to conceal herself in any way at all. She just knows he won't do it.]

private } arya

I don't know your warden. How is she?

spam } polly

[Now Vin is playing a rousing game of 'follow Polly around to figure out her habits and possibly weaknesses'. Still not making a tremendous effort to hide her presence.]

private } morgana

I saw you in the breach. You smiled more, then. [Slightly bemused by this.]

spam } open

[She probably didn't realize the extent to which she felt trapped, before now. But while she isn't precisely happy, her step is a little lighter, especially with her wolfhound at her side.]

[She spends hours in the CES, once she catches an iteration of it with brightest skies and most sharply defined white clouds. Almost no time on the ground, though - she practices with coins, pleased not to be able to rely on metal in the deck for jumps. It's the work of precision and angles that pleases her.]

[After a few hours of this, she rests at the top of a smallish pine tree, examining its sap, while Clifford sits at the root and whines at her to get down occasionally.]

Comments

[indispensible]

[She wants to scream at him. For all of about two seconds. She draws air into her lungs, and - lets it out. A slight shake of her head, a tremble at the tips of her fingers.]

I remember you.

[Him before, when he felt too much pain, but not infinite, constant. She does remember, past the haze of broken bones and terror.]

[myironeyes]

[She could scream at him if she wanted.]

You knew me at my worst.

[This is quiet, and he doesn't mean the iron puppet he became, but the bristling, petty man dragged out of his curdled despair-peace, resentful and grim even as he willingly took up the terrible challenge.]

I want to - take care of people. You aren't mine, and you don't need it.

But I want that more than hiding or not hiding.

[indispensible]

[How dare he. How dare he - any of this. She has never been ready for Marsh in any of his forms, the resentful man or the puppet or whatever he is now.]

I'm not anyone's. Not anymore. And I don't need it.

I don't want to stay away from you anymore.

[myironeyes]

[He turns his face away, though he doesn't step back.]

I didn't mean it like that. I just.

[He was only trying to acknowledge it, how beyond him she is. It's just the caring that he wants, even if the rest of the truth about her makes that seem small and ridiculous.]

I want to do something good for someone. And - especially you.

I won't avoid you then.

[indispensible]

I know you didn't. I just . . .

[She was just saying. She doesn't feel beyond anyone. She's just Vin.]

I'm not afraid of you. I remember what you did. But I'm not afraid of you because you gave me the key in the end. Please - you've done good for me.

[myironeyes]

[If he could do it, if he could always do it, why not before? Why never before, why not when Ruin turned him on Sazed, when it was still weak, when so much more could have been saved. Why had not killing his friend not been enough? It runs through his head every time he considers those moments.

You've done good for me.

He feels like she's given him a gift almost too heavy to hold, and also a little like he's been scalded. It takes him a few moments before he can speak.]

Then I would. Prefer not to stop.

[He doesn't smile, not even close. But some of the harsher lines around his mouth ease a little.]

[indispensible]

[She sees, and she breathes out. It's something like relief, but also something that she finds very difficult to understand in its complexity. She's still afraid of Marsh, sort of. She still remembers what he did. But she remembers all of what he did, not just some.]

[What she feels for him simmers; different things come up at different times. But what he is, not what he was made, is someone who deserves her loyalty.]

Yes. Then. I'd prefer that, too.

. . . I'll go now. So you can . . .

[She doesn't know. Recover, probably. She feels like she'll need to recover.]