in and of itself the assessment is untrue, he could. but it isn't in his character to guarantee something he can't see through. chuck's gaze moves to the perpetually locked door that seals them in, shuts down any hope they have of transport- and knows that there's no amount of soothsaying that'll get him to her any faster.
she's on her own. they all are. it tightens the knot in his stomach and grinds his teeth together. blots out the sights and smells and sounds. ]
[ Her voice grows a little softer now when she speaks — a subconscious detail rather than any deliberate affectation on Alayne's part. Even as frightened as she is, even as far removed from her usual circle of protectors, the thought of Isaac still comforts her. ]
Isaac kept it from me for the longest time. He'd told me of this place many times before but spared me recollections of the monsters. I think he thought it some great mercy.
[ A pause. That softness withers now, gives way to something that sounds more like resignation. ] The things in the walls — they're people.
that he doesn't say it aloud is a testament to his self control because there're a line of expletives he wouldn't mind launching into. but his armor is slick with blood and the smell clings to him and he knows, knows he wouldn't have done what he had without a damn good reason.
alayne gets quiet (perhaps the quietest he's known her to be) and chuck doesn't look down at the tangle of disjointed limbs between his feet. ]
[ She's glad he says it, if only to keep the burden from falling on herself. The thought is to terrible, the fate it promises is too awful and Alayne isn't sure which is worse — living in a world of monsters or becoming a monster herself. (She promises Master Chief that she'll be careful, that she'll do her very best to survive. But what hope did she possibly have in this place, removed from those she knew and trusted best? Courtesy had no currency here and courtesy was the only one Alayne knew how to barter.)
Quietly, quietly (if she's frightened she plays it very close to her chest; he's not the only one who's been taught how to school his expression): ] Yes.
[ he doesn't look to the communicator the same way he has always avoided looking at her face. it isn't that he fears the connection, no, never that- but that chuck has always had the luxury to choose what the connection will be. it is one thing to meet a man's eyes when you stare him down, dare him to strike you. it's another entirely when it means goodbye.
chuck decided a long time ago that he was never saying goodbye again. ]
[ It's a delicate question with an indelicate answer, one bought with blood and brutality. Die once and you become a monster, all bones and decay on your breath. Die twice and the second time will be at the hands of your friends, the ones that had sworn to protect you failed. (Or perhaps they are the ones who die. Under your hands. You swore to protect me.)
Alayne shuts her eyes and tries not to think about it. It fills her stomach with a terrible acid that threatens to eat at her insides. ]
[ it's the last thing he wants to hear. not because it's sentimental- he can work with that (had grown up with it, once) work around that. and it isn't because he wants something different- something he can wrap his mind around in terms of his own experience.
it's because the whole goddamn world they'd turned up in doesn't make any sense. and because chuck half expected the rules to be different all the way through. he inhales deep, and exhales slow. ]
[ Alayne exhales softly. Not a laugh, not even an approximation of one, but an expression nevertheless — more of that resignation seeping through. She'd been aboard the Tranquility and survived that, but only because she had banners and her brothers hoarded around her (a right pack of wolves). Here, with only Marius by her side, Marius who was as frightened as she was, it's difficult to feel steel in her spine. (She isn't ivory or porcelain; she's spun glass.) ]
There is no place to hide here. The dead live in the walls. They own the dark.
[ There's a pause and then Alayne asks: ] Does death frighten you?
[ She'd known it once already, during her time amongst the stars. The wound in her belly had bled and bled and she'd slipped into a nothingness that held her and refused to let her go. ]
[ which is an answer as much as it isn't one. chuck knows he can still feel afraid, because he's never been fearless. it tightens itself around his spine or sits- a rock, in the pit of his stomach. there are things that change in a person when they come to know their own mortality, when they come to know the limits of those they believe should have none at all.
chuck thinks about his old man and his stubbornness. the things that continue to go unsaid between them. ]
Does anyone? [ she asks quietly, though she already knows the answer is yes. There were those who would run far away from the threads of their lives if they could. (Alayne had, had shorn the warp and the weft of Sansa completely, only to bury that ruined tapestry deep in herself, where she dare not look.)
She falls quiet for a while, distant noises moving through the background of her feed. The others are keeping busy, doing things that Alayne does not trust herself to do. She is, in every way possible, utterly useless at this moment. All she has to occupy herself is this: the sound of Chuck Hansen's voice in her ear. It's an unexpected and welcome comfort, though she would never dare admit it. ]
Once, there were many things. [ Hopes. Dreams. Responsibilities befitting a young lady of the North. ] But one by one, they fell away with time. Until all that remained was the desire to live.
Or perhaps not even the desire. Perhaps simply the habit of it.
[ chuck isn't the kind of man who hands out comforts. he doesn't have the right soul for it, and he sure as hell doesn't have the temperment. the men and women of the shatterdome run on pure efficiency- on what needs to be done and what has to be scrapped, sold, bartered, and melted down to do it. as one of their own for as far back as he cares to remember, chuck had taken those ideologies into himself and buried them like seeds. shining and polished dreams about the kind of man he could be, and all of the impossibles he would do in exchange for his human heart.
what he's doing here and why the hell he's doing it- aren't things he can take the time to examine. it's possible he never will. ]
All that mouth on you an' you can't think of one thing you wanna do t'marrah morning?
[ I want to see my family. But Alayne cannot say that for her family is dead and gone. I want to see my friends. But what guarantee did she have to last the night? Still, Chuck's question hadn't been what would she do, but what she wanted to do.
A breath and when Alayne speaks, her voice wavers. (A Stone does not cry, she tells herself, but those words fall upon deaf ears and fail to still a trembling heart.) Alayne's voice cracks when she speaks his name. ]
I want to see Isaac again. [ He'd protect her, he'd show her where to go and what to do. Isaac would keep her safe. ] He makes me brave.
[ the admission is heavy- though whether it's owed to the content, or the splinter of her voice over the syllables of his name, chuck isn't certain. (he doesn't want to be certain, either.)
maybe it's a kind of idolatry. maybe it's the childish belief in heroes.
if he squints, and looks just right- chuck can see the parallels. between alayne's mister clarke, and chuck's old man. it's the kind of symmetry that hits him between the notches of his ribcage and burns on the inhale. ]
People can't make you anythin' you aren't already.
That's not true. [ She doesn't think he means to lie to her, nor to pander to her (Chuck does not seem the type). Alayne dismisses it as simply a matter of perspective, the difference between his world and his life in comparison to her own. Still, when she disagrees, Alayne's voice does not seem to argue. If anything it seems gentle, like she's revealing a truth to him he hadn't known before.
(That's more true than she'd care to admit. During the course of a single conversation, he's learned more about her than most do in a lifetime — so long as he thinks to look.
But that's the thing about Chuck Hansen. Alayne doesn't expect him to look and so he feels safe. Blank, empty. Like a cup she can pour herself into with the knowledge that, when they're finished, he'll pour her out again.) ]
People have made me all manner of things I had not been before knowing them.
[ it's the closest he's come to an easy conversation in years. to something that isn't about competition or finding fault. chuck isn't rooting around for the seams in armor or seeking out old wounds. he isn't waiting for her to fall short. they aren't circling each other as wild dogs- starved for their next meal and angry for their empty bellies. ]
[ It's the closest he's come to an easy conversation in years and it's as close to frank as Alayne is capable of being without deliberateness prickling at the back of her neck or forcing her to curve every answer into a pleasing shape. When she replies it isn't premeditated. Her voice is surprisingly matter-of-fact (though there's a vulnerability there too, hidden between the words). ]
Or perhaps I am simply eager to please. [ A pause as she considers whether to explain. In the end, she does. ] To be a wanted is to have purpose, and to be needed is to be purpose.
Because it sounds nice an' pretty if ya call it eager to please, and bein' a weapon's fine as long as you've got someone on the other end that knows how t'use you. [ he's equally matter of fact, and it might be a suggestion if there wasn't so much of it that struck so close to home. it's one thing to be a good ranger, a good copilot- but chuck hasn't stood on his own half as much as he'd like to believe he has. ]
[ It's not the first time Alayne has been called that but it's something that usual comes with knowing one another well, which in turn only comes after the slow unfolding of herself. That Chuck arrives at it now so plainly would normally make her cautious, but instead of the clench of paranoia she feels something more akin to relief. ]
Cannot a weapon wield itself?
[ It's a personal question, but Alayne knows better than to ask it as one. ]
Dunno. Never tried. [ which is the closest to an understanding of himself that he's ever come. if it means something (anything) that this revelation is shared with alayne- a slip of a girl too easily dismissed- chuck has no desire to know.
this is the place where his reply should be assessed for its results. whether or not he had managed to soothe or comfort- but this had never been his intention, and thus, chuck finds himself free of whatever expectations would otherwise define them. ]
[ He has a way of telling her things without every truly acknowledging the fact that he's telling in the first place. Alayne finds it more than just a little familiar but unlike with her — a deliberate move on her part, an attempt to share without sharing — she wonders if Chuck even realizes that he does it at all. ]
You should. If only once. [ Advice. The last thing she's sure either of them expected to be shared between them. ] It will no doubt teach you something of yourself you did not already know.
[ there's a flicker at the edge of his mouth, or maybe it's in the fractional tilt of a brow. it isn't humor persay, but there's certainly a curiosity there. however faint the trace may be. ]
[ Alayne exhales. Should she tell him? That she has played weapon to kings and queens and, in attempting to wield herself, has done nothing but come away wounded by her own hand? Call it foolishness or inexperience, but one should not be a weapon in the matters of love. It will do nothing but leave yourself bleeding — a truth that Alayne ultimately keeps to herself. ]
You first.
[ The words are childish but her voice is a gentle dare. Or maybe it's a promise. I will if you will. ]
[ maybe he's begging out of it, god knows that's one way to look at it. but there are few windows through which chuck sees himself with absolute clarity- and this is one. he's a ranger, not an officer. chuck understands that in it's own way- that's a choice. ]
A weapon would say that, [ Alayne observes in not an unkind way. Given her constant search for purpose, it's possible she finds herself envious of such absolute clarity (not that she would ever admit it). ] A good weapon. [ It's doesn't sound particularly praiseful but it's possible she feels that way nevertheless.
There's a long silence that follows. Then: ] What of you and lose ends?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
( v : d 1 | audio )
But she'd never have expected it from him. ]
The mining deck, or so the displays all read. We're to take a lift somewhere, but none can say to where it leads.
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in and of itself the assessment is untrue, he could. but it isn't in his character to guarantee something he can't see through. chuck's gaze moves to the perpetually locked door that seals them in, shuts down any hope they have of transport- and knows that there's no amount of soothsaying that'll get him to her any faster.
she's on her own. they all are.
it tightens the knot in his stomach and grinds his teeth together. blots out the sights and smells and sounds. ]
You know what's out there, don't you.
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Isaac kept it from me for the longest time. He'd told me of this place many times before but spared me recollections of the monsters. I think he thought it some great mercy.
[ A pause. That softness withers now, gives way to something that sounds more like resignation. ] The things in the walls — they're people.
( v : d 1 | audio )
that he doesn't say it aloud is a testament to his self control because there're a line of expletives he wouldn't mind launching into. but his armor is slick with blood and the smell clings to him and he knows, knows he wouldn't have done what he had without a damn good reason.
alayne gets quiet (perhaps the quietest he's known her to be) and chuck doesn't look down at the tangle of disjointed limbs between his feet. ]
An' we'll become those things if we die here.
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Quietly, quietly (if she's frightened she plays it very close to her chest; he's not the only one who's been taught how to school his expression): ] Yes.
( v : d 1 | audio )
[ he doesn't look to the communicator the same way he has always avoided looking at her face. it isn't that he fears the connection, no, never that- but that chuck has always had the luxury to choose what the connection will be. it is one thing to meet a man's eyes when you stare him down, dare him to strike you. it's another entirely when it means goodbye.
chuck decided a long time ago that he was never saying goodbye again. ]
What happens in this place, when you die.
( v : d 1 | audio )
Alayne shuts her eyes and tries not to think about it. It fills her stomach with a terrible acid that threatens to eat at her insides. ]
I cannot rightly say.
Perhaps nothing happens. Perhaps it is an end.
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it's because the whole goddamn world they'd turned up in doesn't make any sense. and because chuck half expected the rules to be different all the way through. he inhales deep, and exhales slow. ]
You should hide.
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There is no place to hide here. The dead live in the walls. They own the dark.
[ There's a pause and then Alayne asks: ] Does death frighten you?
[ She'd known it once already, during her time amongst the stars. The wound in her belly had bled and bled and she'd slipped into a nothingness that held her and refused to let her go. ]
( v : d 1 | audio )
[ which is an answer as much as it isn't one. chuck knows he can still feel afraid, because he's never been fearless. it tightens itself around his spine or sits- a rock, in the pit of his stomach. there are things that change in a person when they come to know their own mortality, when they come to know the limits of those they believe should have none at all.
chuck thinks about his old man and his stubbornness. the things that continue to go unsaid between them. ]
There somethin' you wanna finish?
( v : d 1 | audio )
She falls quiet for a while, distant noises moving through the background of her feed. The others are keeping busy, doing things that Alayne does not trust herself to do. She is, in every way possible, utterly useless at this moment. All she has to occupy herself is this: the sound of Chuck Hansen's voice in her ear. It's an unexpected and welcome comfort, though she would never dare admit it. ]
Once, there were many things. [ Hopes. Dreams. Responsibilities befitting a young lady of the North. ] But one by one, they fell away with time. Until all that remained was the desire to live.
Or perhaps not even the desire. Perhaps simply the habit of it.
( v : d 1 | audio )
what he's doing here and why the hell he's doing it- aren't things he can take the time to examine. it's possible he never will. ]
All that mouth on you an' you can't think of one thing you wanna do t'marrah morning?
( v : d 1 | audio )
A breath and when Alayne speaks, her voice wavers. (A Stone does not cry, she tells herself, but those words fall upon deaf ears and fail to still a trembling heart.) Alayne's voice cracks when she speaks his name. ]
I want to see Isaac again. [ He'd protect her, he'd show her where to go and what to do. Isaac would keep her safe. ] He makes me brave.
( v : d 1 | audio )
maybe it's a kind of idolatry. maybe it's the childish belief in heroes.
if he squints, and looks just right- chuck can see the parallels. between alayne's mister clarke, and chuck's old man. it's the kind of symmetry that hits him between the notches of his ribcage and burns on the inhale. ]
People can't make you anythin' you aren't already.
( v : d 1 | audio )
(That's more true than she'd care to admit. During the course of a single conversation, he's learned more about her than most do in a lifetime — so long as he thinks to look.
But that's the thing about Chuck Hansen. Alayne doesn't expect him to look and so he feels safe. Blank, empty. Like a cup she can pour herself into with the knowledge that, when they're finished, he'll pour her out again.) ]
People have made me all manner of things I had not been before knowing them.
( v : d 1 | audio )
[ it's the closest he's come to an easy conversation in years. to something that isn't about competition or finding fault. chuck isn't rooting around for the seams in armor or seeking out old wounds. he isn't waiting for her to fall short. they aren't circling each other as wild dogs- starved for their next meal and angry for their empty bellies. ]
( v : d 1 | audio )
Or perhaps I am simply eager to please. [ A pause as she considers whether to explain. In the end, she does. ] To be a wanted is to have purpose, and to be needed is to be purpose.
( v : d 1 | audio )
Because it sounds nice an' pretty if ya call it eager to please, and bein' a weapon's fine as long as you've got someone on the other end that knows how t'use you. [ he's equally matter of fact, and it might be a suggestion if there wasn't so much of it that struck so close to home. it's one thing to be a good ranger, a good copilot- but chuck hasn't stood on his own half as much as he'd like to believe he has. ]
( v : d 1 | audio )
Cannot a weapon wield itself?
[ It's a personal question, but Alayne knows better than to ask it as one. ]
( v : d 1 | audio )
this is the place where his reply should be assessed for its results. whether or not he had managed to soothe or comfort- but this had never been his intention, and thus, chuck finds himself free of whatever expectations would otherwise define them. ]
( v : d 1 | audio )
You should. If only once. [ Advice. The last thing she's sure either of them expected to be shared between them. ] It will no doubt teach you something of yourself you did not already know.
( v : d 1 | audio )
Gonna take your own advice there?
( v : d 1 | audio )
You first.
[ The words are childish but her voice is a gentle dare. Or maybe it's a promise. I will if you will. ]
( v : d 1 | audio )
[ maybe he's begging out of it, god knows that's one way to look at it. but there are few windows through which chuck sees himself with absolute clarity- and this is one. he's a ranger, not an officer. chuck understands that in it's own way- that's a choice. ]
( v : d 1 | audio )
There's a long silence that follows. Then: ] What of you and lose ends?
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