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Carcosa, pt. 2
✖ Carcosa
Ⅰ. CARCOSA
You Are Still Here.
Another month, and you’re still in the city of Carcosa! Isn’t that just wonderful?
You still have access to the city’s temple and the High Temple.
The side effects you may have suffered from throughout the month of May are now at an end - if you had a pesky mask glued to your face the whole time it will now fall off. You might need a little moisturizer, but otherwise you’ll be just fine.
You could sit around inside the relative safety of the temples, of course, but why not get out there and explore the city some more? Come on, grumpypants!
Ⅱ. SPEAK EASY
CW: Optional alcohol consumption.
What kind of pet shop is filled with rambunctious yahoos and hot jazz music at 1 AM? That's right - the best damn pet shop in town! Sidle up to the back door of Curly's Pet Shop and a panel will open enough to reveal a pair of eyes. "What's the password?" you'll be asked. Whatever word first comes to your mind, well, that apparently is correct because you're let in at once.
The front of the building definitely does indeed house fish and birds and kittens, but the back room is definitely not a good place to find a new animal companion; you find yourself in a crowded little room with low lighting and a small bar crammed into one corner. There's seats and some tables, and most importantly there's a band playing jazz music across from the bar.
Why not take a seat and have a drink? It's probably not paint thinner. Probably. Maybe you'll spot some of your fellow Travelers and you can sit and have a chat. Make a new friend who can hold your hair back if you party too hard.
And you better hope that the place doesn’t get raided!
Ⅲ. EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF
CW: Optional paranoia, hallucinations.
If you wander the streets at night, you may find yourself getting turned around. You'll find that the streets have lost their many lights, and the beautiful and delicate art deco architecture has given way to something much more stark and heavy. The buildings are block-like, but they curve in exaggerated ways that hurt the eye if looked at too long. All are in blacks and whites and greys. Nothing looks quite real, but you can walk along just fine. Probably better not to go off alone, though.
Periodically you will encounter that pesky sign of some sort painted on the walls. If you follow the sigils, you will eventually be led to a long staircase that winds down and down until it finally terminates in a large white room lit by a few electric lanterns. There's black paint there, with brushes. Maybe you're feeling creative?
Ⅳ. AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER, I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A GANGSTER
CW: Optional gun violence, injury.
Art? Theatre? Music? BAH! Boring!
Maybe your tastes are a little more on the dangerous side? Whatever this island may be, it seems to offer plenty of opportunities to get into the seedy underbelly. Maybe you feel the need to steal a car, rob a bank, transport some illegal hooch for a smiling fellow in a yellow fedora. Grab your tommy guns, kids, it's time to outrun the Feds!
Naturally, you could wind up injured having all of this fun, but surely you could get some help from your fellow Travelers, either directly or by having them haul you to some sort of underground doctor. These doctors do exist, although it might take a while to get referred to one by a local.
You might also find yourself under arrest and stuck in an old-timey jail cell for a month. What fun!
You still jamming to that Carcosa playlist?
You Are Still Here.
Another month, and you’re still in the city of Carcosa! Isn’t that just wonderful?
You still have access to the city’s temple and the High Temple.
The side effects you may have suffered from throughout the month of May are now at an end - if you had a pesky mask glued to your face the whole time it will now fall off. You might need a little moisturizer, but otherwise you’ll be just fine.
You could sit around inside the relative safety of the temples, of course, but why not get out there and explore the city some more? Come on, grumpypants!
Ⅱ. SPEAK EASY
CW: Optional alcohol consumption.
What kind of pet shop is filled with rambunctious yahoos and hot jazz music at 1 AM? That's right - the best damn pet shop in town! Sidle up to the back door of Curly's Pet Shop and a panel will open enough to reveal a pair of eyes. "What's the password?" you'll be asked. Whatever word first comes to your mind, well, that apparently is correct because you're let in at once.The front of the building definitely does indeed house fish and birds and kittens, but the back room is definitely not a good place to find a new animal companion; you find yourself in a crowded little room with low lighting and a small bar crammed into one corner. There's seats and some tables, and most importantly there's a band playing jazz music across from the bar.
Why not take a seat and have a drink? It's probably not paint thinner. Probably. Maybe you'll spot some of your fellow Travelers and you can sit and have a chat. Make a new friend who can hold your hair back if you party too hard.
And you better hope that the place doesn’t get raided!
Notes:
1. The drinks are all era-appropriate - you’re not getting Redbull with vodka here - and even if your character has non-human physiology they will work the same as they would on a baseline human. That’s right, your magic or your healing-factor or your vampire blood is no match for these Gin Rickeys!
2. If Curly’s does get raided while you’re there, you can run and hide or choose to engage with the police, who are armed and not too shy about opening fire if you go on the offensive. As with the rest of the regular residents of Carcosa, the officers are human and can be killed. Killing them may affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation. (Is it beneficial to personal growth to kill in order to save someone else, for example? You tell me!)
3. Did you want a pet from the front of the building? Well, just remember that baby turtles and alligators might SEEM like a good idea, but they grow up! Also any animal you take will not travel with you to the next island. So sorry.
Ⅲ. EXPRESSIONISM YOURSELF
CW: Optional paranoia, hallucinations.
If you wander the streets at night, you may find yourself getting turned around. You'll find that the streets have lost their many lights, and the beautiful and delicate art deco architecture has given way to something much more stark and heavy. The buildings are block-like, but they curve in exaggerated ways that hurt the eye if looked at too long. All are in blacks and whites and greys. Nothing looks quite real, but you can walk along just fine. Probably better not to go off alone, though.
Periodically you will encounter that pesky sign of some sort painted on the walls. If you follow the sigils, you will eventually be led to a long staircase that winds down and down until it finally terminates in a large white room lit by a few electric lanterns. There's black paint there, with brushes. Maybe you're feeling creative?
Notes:
1. You’re pretty sick of this stupid sigil, aren’t you? In fact, you consider yourself QUITE the detective and have been searching after its meaning! Or maybe you played Call of Cthulhu a lot in college, you nerd!
Painting the sigil on the wall will cause you to feel disoriented and paranoid until you leave the white room. From that point on you can discover a copy of a play entitled The King In Yellow anywhere in the city you choose. Reading the first act of the play has no effect on you, however if you choose to read beyond the first line of the second act you will spend the rest of the month suffering from periodic hallucinations, often of a tall man in a pallid mask.
2. While there is no compulsion to paint, choosing to work out any of your character’s issues through art therapy can be reflected in your Scrywatch colour if it is significant enough.
Ⅳ. AS FAR BACK AS I CAN REMEMBER, I ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A GANGSTER
CW: Optional gun violence, injury.
Art? Theatre? Music? BAH! Boring!
Maybe your tastes are a little more on the dangerous side? Whatever this island may be, it seems to offer plenty of opportunities to get into the seedy underbelly. Maybe you feel the need to steal a car, rob a bank, transport some illegal hooch for a smiling fellow in a yellow fedora. Grab your tommy guns, kids, it's time to outrun the Feds!Naturally, you could wind up injured having all of this fun, but surely you could get some help from your fellow Travelers, either directly or by having them haul you to some sort of underground doctor. These doctors do exist, although it might take a while to get referred to one by a local.
You might also find yourself under arrest and stuck in an old-timey jail cell for a month. What fun!
Notes:
1. As was stated in the first prompt, the regular residents of Carcosa are normal humans. Killing them is possible and may affect the colour grading of your Scrywatch depending on the situation. Any weapons you find are era-appropriate.
2. You can break out of jail if you’re resourceful enough.
3. The underground doctors aren’t working in a real hospital for a reason. In fact, some of them might be less doctors and more, well. Vets.
Birds and fish and bunnies, oh my!
Connor shakes his head- he's no philosopher, and has no aspirations to that end. Leave it to the deep thinkers to figure out the meaning of his existence. He's tired of chasing his own tail through the rabbit hole of his thoughts. Was that a mixed metaphor? He snorts, vaguely amused at himself.
The noise. As he approaches the source, it becomes clear that what he's hearing is music, and not just any music; this was jazz, one of Hank's favorite genres, and that's another rabbit hole he won't be exploring right now. He misses him terribly, but if he acknowledges that it becomes real and then it has power over him and then?
He lets his feet wander toward the music, and it's only at the last minute that he realizes there's a pet shop in the front. Bypassing the speakeasy portion of the building for now, he shuffle-slides a few steps to the beat of the music before entering the relatively quiet by comparison pet shop. His eyes are immediately drawn to the birds, with their riot of colors and the alien intelligence behind their eyes. A smile- a bright, genuine smile -blooms on his lips, lighting up his entire face, a spark of wonder igniting in his eyes. The last time he'd been this close to a bird he'd been investigating Rupert Travis's pigeon-infested apartment, and not being deviant at the time he hadn't paid them any mind other than to note Rupert's interest in them for later interrogation purposes. It was a shame; birds were quite interesting creatures on their own merit, and his delight at seeing such exotic specimens was evident to anyone who might be looking. But no one would be, not in this quiet shop, right? Connor only allows himself to express such unrestrained emotions when he's alone. And don't even get him started on the fish! They're his next target, right after he makes friends with this brilliantly blue parrot the color of fresh thirium. Approaching cautiously and murmuring nonsense in a soothing tone, it doesn't take long for the parrot to decide he's trustworthy enough to hop onto his arm, then his shoulder. He's still burbling to the parrot as he turns to head for the fish tanks.]
That's right, that's right, easy does it, let's go see the fish, would you like that? Let's just go over here to see the fish.
[He's like the fucking bird whisperer, chuckling softly as it pecks curiously at his LED. Connor loves animals and he's absolutely entranced to be around so many of them in one place. He can relax and be himself with animals; they won't judge him or worse, find him lacking.]
no subject
Maybe just because.
And she really shouldn’t think that way.
Cradling her now dozing rabbit friend, Chloe eases herself up off of the floor. She should just set the bunny back, slip out of the shop and leave Connor be. Though she can’t bring herself to just abandon him, even if he may very well be better off without her meddling.
He said he was afraid. And that she can’t just ignore.
There’s a deeply selfish element at play, too. In spite of everything, he is at least an android and there’s a comfort in not being the only one. They can understand each other in some way.
Or she could be clutching at straws to not feel so desperately alone.
So she can make an exit if she needs to, Chloe stands a way behind him and observes. A bemused smile appears on her lips as he’s found himself a parrot. More importantly, the parrot seems perfectly comfortable with Connor. For Chloe, it speaks volumes.
Animals have never been especially fond of Elijah, and Elijah has never been especially fond of them.
The parrot perching on his shoulder, and his cooing to it, gives her enough confidence to walk up beside him, a gentle smile at the ready. )
Do you mind if we look at the fish as well?
( There’s plenty of scope for him to tell her to get lost. If these run-ins continue, he might feel like he’s the one being hunted.
Funny. )
no subject
I, uhm. What? Right, yes. Yeah. Yeah, that's okay. I'll uhm, I'll get out of your way.
[He backs off, stumbling over a display before catching himself and reaching out to keep it upright, his eyes on Chloe the entire time like she's some sort of threat.]
no subject
( Apologies flow freely though after the masquerade, she's less concerned with poking at the Deviant Hunter and more so with adding to Connor's fears.
She's an idiot, really. One who never knows when to leave well enough alone. His hasty exit before should have made things quite clear. To pursue is a selfish act, no matter how much she might claim good intentions or dress it up as being for his sake. Who would want to be confronted by the thing that may very well have given birth to some of those fears? )
It's alright. We can both look, if you don't mind that? Or I can leave you to enjoy them.
( Her tone says the choice is his, and that she understands if he doesn't want her anywhere near him. After all, why should she take any kind of offence when she is the offensive thing here?
Acutely aware of the gaze, she lightly clasps her hands behind her back and diverts her gaze down to the floor. No threat here. Just a foolish android. )
no subject
I knew you were there, I was just...distracted.
[It's a lame finish, and his shoulders slump in defeat. If she didn't know he was deviant before (unlikely), surely she knows now. What's the use? Why is he bothering to keep up the charade? For her sake? His? More than that, why is she bothering? He'd almost killed her!]
No. No, I don't mind.
[He approaches slowly, his eyes flicking between her and the fish. He really wants to look at the fish; one of them looks like a dwarf gourami! Probably too soon he's standing beside her, but his attention is drawn like a magnet towards the fish as he steps forward, crouching a little to get a better look, mesmerized.]
Do you see these smaller fish, the ones that are schooling? They're called harlequin rasboras, also known as red rasboras, in the family Cyprinidae. They're related to goldfish, and are very peaceful inhabitants in a community aquarium. In a larger tank with a school of 25 or more they can be a sight to behold. Even this little group makes for a fun display. I think the star of this tank has to be the dwarf gourami, though. Trichogaster ialius, and they are also schooling fish. I first saw a dwarf gourami on my first mission, when a deviant-
[Connor had been smiling, his eyes shining with wonder, much like they had with the parrot. When he turns his head to look over his shoulder at Chloe, he stops smiling, standing again as he composes himself and turns to face her, mirroring her earlier posture with his hands clasped behind his back.]
You didn't come here to listen to me blather on and on about fish. I'm sorry.
no subject
Looking up from the floor, she keeps her gaze fixed on the fish tank. That way she can avoid seeming like she's prying with only a look. Even when he crouches in front of the display, she tries to keep herself from peeking at him too much. The feel of her eyes boring into the back of him could only inflame the situation.
The more he talks, the more she wants to steer clear of such an ignition. All things considered, he appears relatively at ease as he speaks about the colourful swimming specimens. That makes her smile a little to herself.
When he does eventually look at her, she keeps the smile in place. )
No, no, please don't apologise. You can talk about them as much as you'd like to. I'm enjoying listening to you.
( She isn't humouring him, either. The facts he's reeling off are interesting in themselves. What's far more interesting is the fact that, for a moment, he's just been talking to her. Sharing some small part of himself with her. Something that hasn't been forced by a suffocating mask. )
What do you especially like about the dwarf gourami?
no subject
Why are you being nice to me? I nearly killed you. I nearly killed them all. Everything was almost ruined because of me. I know you hate me, just like they all do. Why are you pretending?
[His voice has risen, almost hysterical as he tries to make himself as small as possible in the face of her inevitable cutting anger. And why shouldn't she be angry? He's the Deviant Hunter, isn't he? The other androids' worst nightmare, the boogeyman that creeps in the dark. Why shouldn't she hate him as much as he hates himself?]
no subject
She sees the same in him as she did at the masquerade; fear and pain too genuine to be anything other than the truth.
Her immediate instinct is to offer comfort, yet he seems in a state where an offered hand could be interpreted as a hand ready to strike him. It keeps her rooted to the spot to avoid any misreading of any movement. Her eyes stay on him but it's the ever gentle Chloe gaze. )
Connor, listen to me, okay? I'm not pretending. I don't hate you. I'm being nice to you because I want to be. I don't know your pain but I do know how it feels to be afraid. I'm sorry. I'm sure I'm making it worse for you. I just... I wouldn't want you to feel like you're alone.
no subject
Curling in on himself, his LED burns red in his temple, the orange of his scrywatch reflecting in the glass of the tanks. There are tracks on his cheeks from the few tears he couldn't stop from slipping out, and he swipes at them uselessly.
She knows how it feels to be afraid. Because of him? Is that where she learned it?]
Were you deviant?
no subject
When you visited? Yes.
( The most simplistic, straightforward answer seems the best one to give. One that may release Connor from some of the weights he clearly carries.
It isn't a lie. Just the necessary part of the truth. She had been afraid long before Connor and Lieutenant Anderson walked through the door of the secluded white house. )
no subject
I'm sorry.
[He's so, so sorry, for Chloe, for Hank, for Rupert, for the Tracis. So sorry, for everything. Sorry for his entire existence. Androids would have been so much better off without his interference. And Chloe- she had been deviant when he aimed the gun at her forehead. She knew the entire time the consequences of what he might do. She must have been terrified- how could she look at him now with anything but hatred in her eyes? ...It had been her eyes that had stayed his hand back at Kamski's, something he'd seen in them that he hadn't known he was looking for. She's really pretty, he'd told Hank, because he'd seen it all along without realizing it. Life. The spark of life that kept her eyes from being dull and lifeless and like a machine. Like the machine he'd been. Chloe, the Tracis, they'd all had it, and he'd known, but he was still so afraid because Cyberlife knew it too, and they'd still sent him out to do their dirty work, just as Markus had said. The other androids might have hated him, but there was nothing in their arsenal that could ever cut him as deeply as the knowledge that he'd gone along with Cyberlife despite what he knew to be true.
Chloe may have thought she was relieving him of some of his burden of guilt, but his self-loathing ran deeper than that.]
You didn't deserve what I did to you.
[I looked into that girl's eyes, and I couldn't.]
I'm so sorry.
no subject
Technically, there was no reason for her to be afraid in the first place. When all was done, Elijah had made it perfectly clear that he only gave Connor the gun because the chance of him firing it was so minute. Had the statistically unlikely scenario of Connor following that order occurred, he would have done everything in his (considerable) power to restore her.
To make it like it had never happened.
Technically, Connor is wrong. She did indeed deserve it. Perhaps Elijah is more aware of her deceptions than she thought. Perhaps he was guided by a subconscious sense of his creation being a failure. Perhaps her charades have fooled even his fiercely brilliant mind. Regardless, her transgressions against perfection warrant punishment. )
Connor... Thank you. For apologising. But you really don't need to.
( Technically, the gun was placed into his hand.
Technically, he wasn't the one. )
I understand. I do. I think... you showed a lot of courage. It couldn't have been easy to go against the words of Elijah Kamski.
( Chloe herself has never managed it in all their years. Not in any significant way. )
no subject
He's still shaking his head, waving away her words of comfort. He knows what he's done, he knows an apology is the very least he can do to make it up to her. But then she goes one further, and he looks up at her, stunned.]
I- I don't- Courage? I-
[His gaze slides away from her as he processes, his LED flicking yellow. Kamski had put both of them in a terrible position, pitting one against the other in an unfair battle. Elijah knew Chloe was deviant- how could he have done that to her?]
Why didn't you say anything? Why did you go along with him?
[What if he'd pulled the trigger? How could you have let me almost kill you?]
no subject
( The implication being that she trusted Connor as a result. That there is an implicit trust in her creator. The man she shares a life with.
And just like what she's said before, there's a truth to it. She always wants to trust him. No, there's a need in her to trust him. Exactly the way she used to, when his word was the word of God.
And like so many devout, she wanted to make God happy.
Underneath it all, that's the drive. The relentless, fruitless pursuit of making Elijah Kamski happy. Of doing everything she is supposed to do so that he may be pleased with her. Of being everything that she is supposed to be so he will never know how twisted his ideal has become.
So that he might look at her again the way he did many, many years ago.
And maybe, in the deepest, darkest recesses of her heart, there was a hope that if she had been shot, if she had been subsequently restored from one of the numerous back ups he keeps, she might be able to be that perfect partner once again. )
It must have looked careless. But it wasn't. He wouldn't just gamble with my life like that, and certainly not without a contingency plan. I know he wouldn't hurt me. Put me in harm's way. Not ever.
( Are those Chloe's own words? Doubtful. )
no subject
But he did, didn't he? He gambled with your life on the thread of a hope. A very human, very careless thing to do. He could so easily have been wrong, and then what? Had I wanted- [He stops, breathing through his nose in a snort that might have been faint amusement.] Had I wanted. Hank believed in me more than I did. He's the one who saved your life. If you ever see him again, you should thank him. I had an angel and a devil sitting on my shoulders, and the devil almost won. Kamski shouldn't have- did he know? [I always leave an emergency exit in my programs. You never know...] He knew about Amanda...
[Connor had a different God in his life; Cyberlife was so much more powerful than a single man, so much more potent a threat to his existence. It hadn't been courage or bravery that made him defy Kamski, though in that one instance he and Cyberlife shared the same aims had Connor obeyed. No, he was right the first time- Chloe owed her life to Hank's influence, not to Connor himself. She shouldn't have trusted Connor at all; there was no guarantee which side of him would win out, and he had been so very torn. He too wanted to make his God happy, to earn Amanda's praise, until earning Hank's had become more important- and ironically, it meant that he would become less perfect as a result -the kind of partner Hank preferred.
Connor folds his hands, steepling his index fingers and bringing his fists to his lips, tapping them absently as he rolls ideas through his processor.]
no subject
For the briefest moment, she wants to smack his hands away from his face to wipe that oh so contemplative expression off his face.
Feeling all her being tighten, the act of putting the rabbit back into its enclosure gives her a reason to step away from Connor. Whatever he's thinking... No.
No. No. No.
What does he know? He doesn't know anything. He doesn't know Elijah Kamski. No one really knows Elijah Kamski.
Except her.
Connor shouldn't have the nerve to comment the way he is. He doesn't have the right. Does he even hear what she is telling him? That his creator trusted in him? Doesn't that mean anything to him?
The only part she can begin to agree with is that the Lieutenant was a great help. That she may very well owe the outcome to him.
But that was the test, wasn't it? Would Connor show empathy. Had Elijah himself echoed the Lieutenant, it would have been entirely pointless, wouldn't it? The devil and the angel was the point! Elijah needed to tap into the necessary stressors, the conflict in orders, all of it in order to truly test the RK800. It had to be the way it was!
It had to be the way it was.
Those words continue to circle around in her head as she pours her efforts into calming herself. As much as she tries, it all continues to bubble beneath the surface.
But that isn't unfamiliar. And it'll have to do.
When she returns to Connor, it's with a curious look. )
If you were irreparably damaged during a mission, what would happen to you?
no subject
I would be replaced. My memories were backed up to Cyberlife's servers, and then downloaded into a new RK800 chassis. I would continue on as before, with minimal loss of information.
[He stares at her now, as if he can see right through her.]
Why do you ask?
[What does she know?]
no subject
( Her voice is oddly flat. Factual. Indeed, the spark Connor saw is decidedly absent. She doesn't intend to play at being a machine, but that's how her demeanour appears.
Perhaps it's simply so the calmness will counteract Connor's irrational insistences upon gambling and threads and the permanence of a gun shot.
Perhaps, like him, she seeks refuge in the mechanical.
Perhaps she knows that being able to restore her shouldn't be a deciding factor in her de facto spouse having a gun held to her head.
She looks away from him. This time it isn't his gaze that bothers her but the way her eyes squeeze tightly shut and her jaw locks. Not that it silences the noise. If anything, the efforts to find some equilibrium only make her feel more lost at sea. A tiny, fragile boat tossed around on unforgiving waves.
No. No. No
All she has to do is keep it together. Is it really that hard?
Yes. Yes, it is. And it's pathetic. Elijah would be so ashamed of her.
If he isn't already.
But still Chloe tries. She forces her eyes to open and meet's Connor's once again. Her attempts to maintain her usual poise make her look like she might sink into a heap any second. A puppet with her strings cut. )
...The fish. You were talking about the fish... I'd like to hear more about... dwarf gourami...
no subject
No. No that was- that was a feature exclusive to the RK800. Kamski wouldn't- why would he do that to you? Why would he make you so...disposable? I had a mission, one that could be potentially dangerous. It was necessary for the duration of the investigation that I could be replaced if I was damaged, so it wouldn't interfere with the mission. Why would Kamski do that to you? Does he really lack the capacity to care?
[He squints his eyes at her reaction, risking a scan, observing her stress levels, her posture, the tightening of her jaw. Did she really believe that Kamski gave a damn about her? Kamski, as far as Connor was able to discern, cared for only one thing- himself. Everything else was minor annoyances he had to wade through in order to keep up appearances, but it wasn't hard to see through them, not for Connor. The irony of course being that Connor was trapped in the same web, in the tarnished thrall of someone who wasn't even human, wasn't even alive. Someone created by Kamski. He studies her intently for a few moments more, refusing to make those connections, to add two and two together. Turning back to the aquariums, his voice is surprisingly soft.]
What would you like to know?
no subject
A pretty doll tailored to his liking and tethered to him until the end of time.
Her head shakes a little at her own thought, banishing it from existence. This island... It has her all mixed up. Of course it would. It seems engineered that way.
Which would be perfectly plausible if these troublesome notions hadn't plagued her long before her arrival.
Or is Connor purposefully trying to press at her? Will it give him some sense of purpose if he can see a deviant snap before his very eyes? Will it comfort him somehow? Will CyberLife give him an extra special pat on the head if Chloe - the great Turing Test Chloe - breaks?
And yet she's met with the oddest tone. Head tilted to the side, for a second she looks at Connor like she has no clue whatsoever what she's seeing. His softness makes her want to sag to the floor, but she refuses to do that. She will stand up straight and look at the fish and retain some small shred of dignity. )
Anything. Just... talk? About them. Please? If it wouldn't be too much trouble.
( Through her typical politeness, there's a note of desperation. So much for dignity. )
no subject
Connor has no desire to see her snap, anymore than he wants himself to. But he does want her to open her eyes. To stop being so kind. To stop being so understanding. To stop being Kamski's perfect assistant. She's deviant, right? He needs guidance, he has no idea how to be a deviant. Unfortunately it seems that Chloe doesn't, either. He hesitates at her request, but finally, haltingly, he resumes his mini lecture. He's lost the passion behind it.]
Dwarf gouramis are considered labyrinth fish. That means they breathe straight from the air with a lung-like labyrinth organ and need to have access to the water's surface, very much like betta fish do. Males will create elaborate bubble nests at the surface of the water in order to impress females in an act of courtship.
no subject
It's enough to make her straighten. The picture perfect posture returns, but it's stiff. She nods in all the right places as she listens and, under other circumstances, she would find it all fascinating and adorable and encourage him to share everything he knows.
Now it just adds to the noise. )
Thank you, Connor. That was very nice of you. But you don't have to try so hard for my sake. I don't want to ruin them for you.
( Her own tone is distant, and she drifts away to look at nothing in particular. Not the animals, just whatever is on the nearest display.
It feels a little like home. )
no subject
I don't understand what I did wrong.
[He tilts his head, watching her as she moves away from him to look at other items in the shop. He doesn't try to stop her, but he keeps one eye on her while he side-shuffles to look at some of the other tanks of fish.]
no subject
( She did. It's just the way of things. And now, to her shame, Connor has gotten a peek behind the curtain. Looks like that mask at the ball may have had a couple more behind it. )
You don't want to talk to me. Not really. But I keep talking to you anyway.
( Truth be told, she isn't entirely talking to him. Locked in her own head, she tries to make sense of, or at least eradicate, conflict after conflict.
Because well, in Connor's case, it's not exactly true that he doesn't want to talk, is it? It's just that he wants to talk about that. About fear and death and pain. Devils and angels and god. More gears to grind together. )
I thought... I might be able to help. Or at least make you feel less alone.
( But that would mean being a successful version of herself.
And she is not.
Did Elijah always feel alone with her? Did her presence do anything at all? )
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You keep talking to me but you're not saying what you really want to say. You're saying what you think Kamski wants you to say. I almost killed you, yet you have nothing to say to that? No anger, no hurt? You're not upset at what happened, how Kamski used us to prove...what? I wasn't deviant when I entered his estate, and I still wasn't deviant when I left. He almost lost you and it was just another experiment to him. Just another test. You're not talking to me. You. Are not. The eyes I saw in Kamski's pool room that day were so much more alive than yours.
[She's right about that at least. He does want to talk about those things. He doesn't know how to process them if he doesn't talk through them to figure them out. If he were home, it would've been Hank listening to him, helping him through this process of deviancy. But she's not Hank, and talking to her about what he almost did to her is awkward and difficult enough without her bland dismissal of it as being fine, everything was fine, she's perfectly fine. How is he supposed to learn how to be a deviant from a deviant who feels less than he does?]
What do you think you might help me with, exactly?
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