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

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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! )

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[She doesn't notice him until he speaks. He is just another body passing under the stars. Sometimes bodies stop beside her. Some people have grudges they might hold against her. She can't remember, in the moment between his speech and her parsing of language, whether he has the right to a grudge; whether he's the type of man to hold one in principle.]

[And then.]

[Hello, he says. Sweetheart, he says. Just words. They are words that other people might have used once, but those people are gone now. She is all alone, and her heart is bitter as bile.]

[Tears tremble in the corners of her eyes. Where did those come from? She hasn't cried all this week. Not since she saw Nathan gone. And now some man speaks to her in gentle tones and she would weep.]

[Her tears don't fall, but they threaten. Her lips go tight, and she bows her head, as if in prayer. But Vin, who has no last name here, who has never had family, doesn't pray.]

[Dean doesn't pray, either. Not the man she knows and not the one standing beside her; if he prays it's only to curse anyone that could stand by and let the things that happen, happen.

All there is, he'd once told his brother, fiercely, firmly, so he would stop his foolish hoping for some higher, benevolent power, is chaos and violence. It comes out of nowhere, and rips you to shreds. That is true, of course, and even moreso now than ever, but the irony is that Dean still has faith. He has unshakable, unbreakable faith, but nothing good to say to God.

She bows her head and he looks at her, but he already knows what he's going to do. This is not the Vin he knows, and he might pay for his stupidity before he even registers it as happening, but he already knows. She doesn't cry, but he eases closer and reaches to circle her shoulders with one arm, to offer what reassurance he can.

It's breakable and thin, but it's his. It's what he has, and he'll give it to her if she'll take it.]

[She starts, stiffens, her spine going stick-straight. There is violence in her profile - when she collapses into his arms, there is violence in her eyes. There's violence in her fists, which beat a tattoo on Dean's shoulders, but she buries her face in the crook of his neck anyway.]

[This is more than she can bear, she thinks. This is unfair. But then when has anything been fair? She is unfair, given the gift of power, the life of a bastard skaa, and the inability to keep people at her side for long. She is cruel and vindictive and childish and vile, she is the reason the Lord Ruler sought to keep them down and broken, she is a disappointment to Kelsier, the only father she ever knew.]

[But it's true, too, that this is more than she can bear. And her tears are falling, and she is crying silently, because she's afraid to cry any louder, and she always has been.]

[In the dark alleys of the city, cry loud and die. Her brother beat her for crying loud. And then other people beat her, later, when her brother went away.]

[She wonders faintly if Dean will beat her, but she's too breathless from hiding her tears to ask. So she beats him instead, hard enough to bruise, and wonders when this will stop hurting.]

[It's unfair that neither of them ever had a chance to be more than they are. That the entire world turned itself against them and forced them to fight against it tooth and nail, with only a few allies to call theirs, a few fallible, mortal allies.

So she hits him, and she cries into his neck, into his torn and dirty jacket, and later he'll bruise, but he's had worse. He's had much, much worse, and he won't begrudge her what comfort she can find in the safe circle of his arms or what anger she takes out on whatever she can reach. He doesn't blame her.

He won't beat her. He does his best to hang on, and in between the blows, he tells her the only true thing that he can.]

I gotcha.

[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?

[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?

[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.

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.

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.]

It's been said.

I know enough to make this decision.

[Dean shrugs, because both of these things are true. She can think it's a lie all she likes, but he doesn't see a reason to argue about it. Also, whatever else she's saying, she hasn't tried to back away from him yet and he doesn't make her, doesn't try himself.

Affection seems like it's hard to come by, here. He brought plenty with him to hand out to any of his people that will take it.]

I'm sorry I can't do more. I can't make those kinds of decisions.

[She pats him on the cheek. He's the kind of man who was made to be a brother, she thinks. He looks like a brother now. Not like hers, but someone's.]

[He's been punished so many times. Has Vin ever seen him smile?]

Thank you for making bad decisions for me.

I could rip your arms off and hand them to you. But I won't. I think it's because I'm too broken to be angry.

[It isn't, really, that he doesn't believe her; in fact he does. What that says about him that he's not more concerned about the very real possibility of having his arms ripped off is, of course, nothing new, but he's just not. He nods.]

It'll come back. And I mean, I hope you remember that I make horrible decisions when it does, but if you feel the need to go back for missed opportunities then, well.

I'm not likely to hold it against you for long, provided you get over it. This place sucks five kinds of ass, but it's easier together than alone.

Easier together.

[She parrots his words, still a little uncomprehending. But she believes him, that's the strange thing. Not in the same way that she believed Nathan, with her soul - but she believes Dean with her heart, and that's close enough, she thinks.]

I'll try to remember that. It doesn't always seem that way.

[It's close enough to be going on with, by Dean's estimation, and he nods; he's accustomed to letting others borrow his belief. He's accustomed to believing in them, for them, because of them.

Vin is easy. Here, demotion is almost a sign of trustworthiness, and she won't wallow for long. She won't fade away. He knows her, and he knows she won't, no matter how much she wants to, and she can borrow that for a time if she needs it.

He blows a breath out and nods.]

I know. [And he does, because together sometimes means eventually apart, too, and apart is so much worse than alone. Alone is just alone. Apart always feels like there might be something that could be done to fix it, something to be said, or something that shouldn't have been, some mistake that was made. Apart feels like someone's fault. Apart never heals.] But alone, you just... run out one day. You just stop.

Other people make it worth it. Other people are reasons not to stop.

I already stopped once.

[Even if she continued moving on the outside, she knows she was truly dead on the inside. Soul-dead. But someone managed to find a spark in her and bring her back to life. Now she moves, slow but certain, one foot in front of the other, until the day when she really knows where she's going.]

I don't ever want to do it again.

You seem to be an expert on starting up again. So I'll trust you.

Then don't.

[Dean shrugs, and it's not dismissal, not even when it sounds so simple. He knows it's not, and yet how can it be more complicated? One foot in front of the other, there are a hundred and one ways to continue, and only one way to stop. People complicate it but that's the bottom line. That's the big secret.

Dean chuckles. He's never been an expert at anything before. Nothing good, anyway, nothing to do with people instead of hunting. It makes something in his chest feel a little loose and a little desperate, but he doesn't argue. If she needs to trust him, he'll just have to deal with it.]

I'll take it, for now.

As long as I'm here, you need something from me, I'll do my best to give it. Trust that, if you have to. That much I can promise.

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

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