indispensible | nine. audio & spam. i've walked around broken.

spam } barge, day 1

[Vin wonders if Alpha is gone as a judgment on her. Maybe. She deserves to be judged. She knows this, because she feels as though a part of her heart has been carved out and left on the other side of the door.]

[Nathan is gone. She goes through her days avoiding the people she has harmed, her eyes glued to some imaginary horizon. There are no horizons here. No sun. Hardly any air to speak of.]

[Everything is dying. It reminds her of home. Except for the stars, which she stares at for too long on the deck, until they leave bright spots on her vision.]

public } voice, day 1

[She sounds contemplative, if a little flat. She isn't sure what she wants out of this; then again, she isn't sure what she wants out of anything, right now.

Wouldn't it be easier if we let the ship die?

It would be better. None of you would have to fight anymore. You can't possibly want to anymore.

private } marsh

Is it . . . very bad? Today?

[By it, she means everything. The weight of existence in this place, at this time.]

spam } port, remainder

[It's tempting to trail after people like Ned. But she doesn't. Breathing free air - free-ish, free enough - inspires her in a way she didn't think she could be inspired anymore, and she strikes off on her own into the settlement. Does not think she's pursued; doesn't listen too carefully. There's a large part of her that still doesn't care.]

[But she listens to the people around her talk of invasion, of medicines she doesn't understand, of technology she can't comprehend - and of weapons.]

[On the second day, she trades several hours of menial labor for a weapon, a small, short-bladed knife. Metal - not what she wanted, but the best she can get. And after she puts it in her back pocket, she walks around differently. With a touch of purpose, instantly noticeable, along with the unsteady and distant half-smile flitting across her lips.]

[Maybe she wants revenge, for the people she's hurt and for Nathan, too. Maybe she is simply pleased to finally be moving.]

( ooc; vin is affected for the desperate to deliver plot! )

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

You still sound like you have a terrible attitude.

It's a flimsy story.

[Not for long, she thinks distantly, her blows lightening slowly, so slowly. You won't have me for long. You'll go like everyone else. Leave me all alone. Just go now.]

[But she isn't brave enough to ask him to go out loud. Not strong enough to let go this temporary comfort for as long as it lasts. Selfishly, weakly, she takes advantage.]

[And eventually the blows stop raining down on Dean's shoulders and back. Her fists settle tight over his spine - a way to reassure her that if he chooses to hurt her, she can snap him in half in a moment.]

[But she doesn't doubt him as much as she should.]

Why?

What's wrong?

[She squeezes Arya's hand, a squeeze as tight as her smile. Where should she begin?]

Have you ever had a friend who was so close he was like a part of your heart?

[Arya tightens her hand in return. She wishes Vin didn't have to ask that question. But this isn't the Vin who reunited her with Nymeria. So she nods, her face still water.]

Like pack.

They say I'm dead already.

[No, not for long, and this is a truth that has more layers than she even means for it to. He won't be here for much longer.

But he is here now and the one lesson he cannot learn, the one he tried to learn and failed utterly at, the one that hurts him the most but that he still welcomes with fervor each and every time is this: what comfort he can give, what comfort he can get, no matter how shortlived and no matter the consequence, is better than no comfort at all.

He props her up when she goes still, and if he has been bold enough to wrap her up in an embrace in the first place, he does not do her the disservice of smoothing her hair back like he would have Cass, or Steph, or Buffy, or Felix, or even Sam or Ned. He just holds them both up and he gives her a chance to speak.]

Why not?

If I ever have a good attitude, that's how you know you're really fucked, Vincesca.

[Her brow furrows at the analogy. Like pack. Like animals. She nods.]

Exactly like pack.

When they're torn away. When your pack dies, and you're alone. You could carve out your heart and leave it behind just as easily.

There's dead and then there's dead.

[She isn't used to being held up. It used to be that she held herself up, and before that, she was pushed down. Dean is really nothing like Elend, in the same way that he's nothing like Zane, but being near him makes her regret the choice she made. After all, it was only with Elend that she could be completely vulnerable and be supported.]

[But he smoothed her hair back, and she never hit him, because he was so fragile compared to her. A tall man, but he seemed so small in her arms.]

[Dean does not seem small when he asks her why not. He seems as tall and broad as a koloss, kind in opposite measures to koloss cruelty. She doesn't understand him.]

You hardly know me. And I'm not kind.

So you don't want me to kill people?

I know enough.

[But Dean, oblivious to the comparison, shakes his head. He is not kind. He can be kind, but he is not a kind man, not a careful man, not a strong man.

But he can be. For other people, he can be, and they don't have to understand it. Don't have to understand him. Sometimes, that's how the language he speaks in silence knows that he is most needed.]

You don't have to be. I make my own decisions.

Why did you ask me?

[This is, by dint of will, not bitter. But he truly does not understand.]

Which would you choose?

You make stupid decisions.

[It's not fond, but it's not scolding, either, not quite. She supposes she might have to respect him, if he keeps acting like this, and is shocked. She doesn't remember when the last time was that she respected someone.]

And you don't know enough. I think that's a lie. Nobody can ever know enough.

[That's what Elend thought, anyway.]

Don't I owe you concern?

[Very bitter.]

As dead as possible.

I've done things I want to stop thinking about.

Not unless they're trying to kill you. In which case, I'll take care of that shit.

I can take care of myself.

[She sounds so peevish and doesn't understand why. Isn't he supposed to be her enemy?]

Sure you can. But I don't care if you can or not.

You're family, dipshit.

I--

What?

Look, as far as I'm concerned? You're the only person on this piece of shit Barge that matters. I couldn't give a damn less what happens to anybody else.

But.

But you said family.

What about it?

I don't have any family. They're all gone.

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