[ I mean. No, she doesn't. But what she does understand is that he had a life before. She did not. She'd had a death waiting for her, there is nothing to long for in the past. She assumes there must be something desirable to this normalcy he speaks of. She thinks it sounds interesting, almost like a fairytale. Family. School. Is that why she dotes on him, in order to get that vicariousness? Likely. ]
(Is it better or worse, to speak on it?)
[ Because she wants to keep asking, but not if it's just painful to him. ]
[ He's not actually sure if it is better or worse. So he'll go with "it's okay to talk about" and leave it at that instead of confusing himself by trying to decide. ]
(It's this...energy field. I don't know a ton about how it actually works, but it's where my powers come from. The Xandarians figured out how to use it, and they made the Nova Corps to be like police.)
[ You know, police who can fly through space and blow shit up. All the important things. ]
[ What is this cute little fairytale he lived? Not only did he get a slice of home and normalcy, he also gets to stand up proudly for his father's dedications? That's what she thinks anyway, but that's because she doesn't understand any part of this from his perspective. It twinkles in the distance, his reality, but she doesn't reach out to touch it, not without invitation. ]
(I never knew my family, nothing to inherit beyond our surname.)
[ Vilmaine, she does not know what it means, it could questionably even truly be hers, but it was what she had always been called. She assumes someone along the way must have known who she was, who she was born of. ]
[ Every thought about his father comes with a sense of regret under it. Guilt, regret, and a weird mixture of love and anger that suggests things were complicated. Because they were.
Her response, though.
It feels like one of those things where people usually say they're sorry, but he doesn't really care for that kind of empty pity and he suspects she doesn't, either. And it's not like he can say he understands, when his family (as dysfunctional as they sometimes were) has always been the most important thing he has. ]
(What's your world like?)
[ She's asked a lot about his, but he hasn't heard all that much about hers. ]
[ She feels out the shape of his guilt and love... It's an utterly foreign texture to her. Family, and all the dissonance and strife that can come with ones unconditional love for them. It's like turning over a puzzle without any real sense of how one might solve it, interesting but ultimately baffling.
She is still distracted by it when he asks her about her own life. In a way, she doesn't want to answer. She had been enjoying simply peering into the edges of his panorama, she doesn't want to spoil it with her own, but... She also sees it relevant to be forthright. ]
(The burned world is a hard, unhappy, place. It was ravaged by the Godking's magic and what was left behind was suffering and death.)
[ Crisp but detailed, she does not want to lie but neither does she particularly wish to show him those terrible things the way she has with others. ]
[ It hardly sounds like a place worth missing. But then, Sam found himself missing a lot of things he never would've thought he'd care so much about. ]
(It was a difficult world, but it was one I understood. It was mine, sometimes I long for that feeling, of knowing, of being certain about my place in life and the future of it.)
[ Which is fair, and does not make her sound insane, okay. ]
[ He doesn't...actually think that sounds insane at all, which might say something about him. ]
(Yeah, I can get that. I mean...I wouldn't say I ever really felt like I had much control of my life, but I kinda miss knowing what to expect out of it.)
[ His problems, before superheroing, had been predictable enough. His father would be too drunk to finish cleaning bathrooms at the school. Sam would bail him out, drag him home, and take crap about it from other students the next day. His report card would probably look like shit. Maybe he'd get some more detention.
Now? Who even knows what's going to go wrong. Some things went pretty right, to be fair, but once a clone of your father tries to kill you, being normal starts to look an awful lot better. ]
[ She doesn't have any words that will help with this, but then she has always lived a life where words of consolation were meaningless. Where death was so prevalent and every day they had not time to mourn. She remembers in her youth receiving little more than a pat on the shoulder and a nudge to keep walking. Or a silent moment spent staring at atrocity, unable to look away in good conscience, before being forced to continue on with the day.
She wants to do a little better than that, for him, and they have tools beyond words for it now.
She opens up, inhibited, to give him all the strength she has to give. It is easier, to be strong for others. To reassure them everything will be alright, easier to desire their courage than to convince oneself. Her presence is pleasant, enveloping like warm water with the scent of smoke and flowers. Benevolent, sisterly, she just doesn't want to see this poor little hero wilt. ]
[ He's not sure how to describe it, beyond...nice. Comforting. Sam's not always the best at figuring out how to say something and have it come out right, and so as much as the bond of the nest is something he thinks he ought to be wary of, sometimes he can't help but find it kind of comfortable, how when he's not sure how to say something that's still okay because people will still get the idea.
And it's nice to be on the receiving end of reassurance, when he's spent so much time trying to keep it together for his family. Be the rock for his sister. ]
(Thanks.)
[ For...for whatever that was. He figures she'll get it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
headinjuries) wrote2016-06-05 01:14 pm
no subject
no subject
...lately, more yes. )
no subject
[ I mean. No, she doesn't. But what she does understand is that he had a life before. She did not. She'd had a death waiting for her, there is nothing to long for in the past. She assumes there must be something desirable to this normalcy he speaks of. She thinks it sounds interesting, almost like a fairytale. Family. School. Is that why she dotes on him, in order to get that vicariousness? Likely. ]
( Is it better or worse, to speak on it? )
[ Because she wants to keep asking, but not if it's just painful to him. ]
no subject
[ He's not actually sure if it is better or worse. So he'll go with "it's okay to talk about" and leave it at that instead of confusing himself by trying to decide. ]
no subject
( What is the Nova Force? )
no subject
[ You know, police who can fly through space and blow shit up. All the important things. ]
no subject
[ Kind of, Ilde, kind of. ]
( How is it that it came to you? Was it suited to you, like the symbiote? )
[ Popular with the aliens, huh. What a special kid. ]
no subject
[ That part always seemed to get left out of his dad's endless war stories. Or had he only told that one after Sam stopped listening to them?
...no, he needs to not go there. He has enough regrets about his relationship with his father. ]
( He went missing, so I...took over. )
no subject
[ What is this cute little fairytale he lived? Not only did he get a slice of home and normalcy, he also gets to stand up proudly for his father's dedications? That's what she thinks anyway, but that's because she doesn't understand any part of this from his perspective. It twinkles in the distance, his reality, but she doesn't reach out to touch it, not without invitation. ]
( I never knew my family, nothing to inherit beyond our surname. )
[ Vilmaine, she does not know what it means, it could questionably even truly be hers, but it was what she had always been called. She assumes someone along the way must have known who she was, who she was born of. ]
no subject
Her response, though.
It feels like one of those things where people usually say they're sorry, but he doesn't really care for that kind of empty pity and he suspects she doesn't, either. And it's not like he can say he understands, when his family (as dysfunctional as they sometimes were) has always been the most important thing he has. ]
( What's your world like? )
[ She's asked a lot about his, but he hasn't heard all that much about hers. ]
no subject
She is still distracted by it when he asks her about her own life. In a way, she doesn't want to answer. She had been enjoying simply peering into the edges of his panorama, she doesn't want to spoil it with her own, but... She also sees it relevant to be forthright. ]
( The burned world is a hard, unhappy, place. It was ravaged by the Godking's magic and what was left behind was suffering and death. )
[ Crisp but detailed, she does not want to lie but neither does she particularly wish to show him those terrible things the way she has with others. ]
no subject
[ It hardly sounds like a place worth missing. But then, Sam found himself missing a lot of things he never would've thought he'd care so much about. ]
no subject
[ Which is fair, and does not make her sound insane, okay. ]
no subject
( Yeah, I can get that. I mean...I wouldn't say I ever really felt like I had much control of my life, but I kinda miss knowing what to expect out of it. )
[ His problems, before superheroing, had been predictable enough. His father would be too drunk to finish cleaning bathrooms at the school. Sam would bail him out, drag him home, and take crap about it from other students the next day. His report card would probably look like shit. Maybe he'd get some more detention.
Now? Who even knows what's going to go wrong. Some things went pretty right, to be fair, but once a clone of your father tries to kill you, being normal starts to look an awful lot better. ]
no subject
[ She's trying to be reassuring, although how long it will take to become numb to all this is another question. ]
no subject
[ He doesn't double-take when he wakes up and remembers he's on a planet he'd never heard of, anymore. That's some kind of progress. ]
no subject
She wants to do a little better than that, for him, and they have tools beyond words for it now.
She opens up, inhibited, to give him all the strength she has to give. It is easier, to be strong for others. To reassure them everything will be alright, easier to desire their courage than to convince oneself. Her presence is pleasant, enveloping like warm water with the scent of smoke and flowers. Benevolent, sisterly, she just doesn't want to see this poor little hero wilt. ]
no subject
And it's nice to be on the receiving end of reassurance, when he's spent so much time trying to keep it together for his family. Be the rock for his sister. ]
( Thanks. )
[ For...for whatever that was. He figures she'll get it. ]
no subject
[ And she is more than happy to provide whenever needed. ]