permutates | 5th transformation . spam & open video

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5th transformation . spam & open video

[ spam ]

[ She's been working herself hard. Maybe too hard: she spends hours a day in the gym, sometimes as many as eight when she's not sleeping. She's read books on how to get in shape quickly and safely - more or less - and she's pushing herself as far as she can go. Trying to find her limits.

Today, she can also be found coming out of the CTS with Kelsier, bruised and mussed and a little bloody, and grinning ear to ear. If you're trying to impress me, it's working, he tells her, and she kisses him on the cheek and flushes bluer and makes her way to the Infirmary to make sure she's got nothing worse than bruises.

She hasn't reached her physical limits yet, but emotional is a different story. Being a child again, with that faith in Charles, has shaken her. Her conversation with Charles before that shook her. And sometimes, even when she's feeling fine - maybe when she's feeling the most fine, paradoxically - she starts crying. And sometimes she can't stop. Tucking herself into a corner of the gardens and trying to muffle the sounds of it so no one catches her at it. It's embarrassing, and she can always eventually manage to pull herself together and make it back to her room. ]

[ video ; open ]

[ Raven is blue, with red hair, not hiding. ]

What's something you've done here, for the first time? Or thought or realized, for the first time.

[ She's not sure what she's looking for. Maybe a little hope. ]

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[ It hasn't been very often that Raven has cried like this. She used to press on. No matter what, she pressed on. Survival was the most important thing first, and then when if she was angry, or if she was sad, she would be snappy and petulant - she would tell Charles. She wouldn't cry.

This doesn't even make sense! She feels fine. She's pulling away from Charles, and it feels like the right choice, most of the time. The people here don't even care that she's blue, that she's different. Or, they care, but it's survivable. She can be herself.

So why is she so sad?

When Ivy sits next to her, she tries to choke back the sobs and wipe away the tears, but it's like trying to hold sand, trying to hold water just in fingers alone.

This is when she realizes - she is thinking oddly clearly, even as her body hiccups any attempt at speech into utter incoherence, like she's watching the world through a distant, sharpening lens - that she hardly touches anyone now, and she used to touch Charles all the time. She used to hug, and hold hands, and snuggle up next to him.

This thought is what prompts her to take a gamble, to uncurl and lean her head against Ivy's shoulder. ]

[Ivy, on the other hand, is generally not very tactile. Once upon a time she couldn't reliably control when she would or wouldn't kill someone; since then, she's become more disciplined but thinking of herself as untouchable has been a source of strength for her. It allows her to maintain a sense of control. And when people slip through the toxic perimeter she's set up around herself, inevitably she gets hurt.

And yet she keeps letting it happen. Like an idiot.

She wraps an arm around Raven and draws her close, pulling her into a half-hug, and she tells herself it's the emotional aftermath of the flood working its way out of her system but it isn't. Not really.]

[ It's infinitely comforting. A flood of relief, a small and petty corner of her mind that says, quietly, someone cares. It's not long before she's down to sniffling instead of sobbing, and she can wipe away the tears with her sleeve. ]

Sorry.

It's alright. You're welcome here.

[Almost terrifyingly true, really. She keeps her arm loosely around Raven, one hand stroking a gentle rhythm through her hair.]

Do you want to talk?

I didn't mean to just start crying.

[ It's something that's been happening to her a lot here, which is frustrating. ]

I don't know.

It can help you understand what's upsetting you, if you get it out in the open.

[She realizes even as she's saying it that she's parroting more than one shrink from her earlier days at Arkham, back when she was actually upset about things and not just suffused with rage. It wasn't good advice for her, but maybe for Raven...]

But you don't have to. I'm not going anywhere.

I guess it's Charles.

[ It's said with reluctance: reluctance on her part to admit it to herself, as well as to admit it to Ivy. ]

Did something happen during the flood?

Yes.

He took care of me.

[ Which sounds so stupid, and she sniffs and covers her eyes, brushing away more leaking tears. ]

[It doesn't sound stupid. Ivy's felt like she's been done wrong by so many people, and she wouldn't take well to being looked after by any of them when she wasn't herself.

She wraps her arm around Raven's shoulders, keeping her close.]

Of course. You were a child.

[And she doesn't know enough about their history to navigate why this might be a problem in the cold light of day.]

He used to do that all the time. Even when I grew up, he did it. He always knew best.

[ And this starts her off crying again. She told Charles she felt like a pet, and it was one of the truest things she said to him. Pets are always cute when they're young. It was never them against the world, was it? And the things Raven wanted never quite seemed to count, because what she wanted was wrong. ]

[Ivy knows this is the start of a longer story, but when the fresh wave of tears starts she knows it isn't the moment to ask. She tucks Raven's head under her chin and strokes her back soothingly, waiting for her to calm enough to keep talking, or to decide that she's done and she doesn't want to say any more.

Ivy's fallen afoul of men who knew best. She's confident that Charles will never fit into the same category of man as Woodrue, but she knows well enough what it's like to feel you've been loved and then disposed of.]

I'm such a mess.

Everyone's a mess, Mystique. [She kisses the top of Raven's head lightly, thoughtlessly.] The only difference is how you use your damage.

I think it uses me more than I use it.

Take this from someone who's lived half her adult life in an asylum: if you're even aware of that, it puts you ahead of the pack.

[ A little, sad laugh, at that. ]

I didn't know that about you.

I don't know much about asylums.

There's not much to know.

[She stretches a little, briefly loosening her hold on Raven, making sure she still seems comfortable with it before replacing her hand.]

When I first became what I am, I...I did some things I'm not proud of. I was declared insane at trial. That spared me the death penalty, and jail. The asylum was how they chose to dispose of me instead.

Edited 2013-08-20 08:52 (UTC)

[ She's comfortable. She's not going anywhere. ]

I'm not sure how much better that is.

I mean, better than jail. Obviously it's better than dying.

[ What is she saying ]

Worse than jail, unfortunately. There's no sentence in a mental institution, not beyond 'until you can play nicely with the other children'. And mine in particular attracted the sort of personalities that cared more about power than they did about healing.

So they let you out when they want to.

When you are what they want you to be. [Her lip curls.] Or when you'll do what they want.

[But then she lets herself relax, and she runs her fingers through Raven's hair.]

But we're not here to talk about me.

Edited 2013-08-21 16:22 (UTC)

I don't mind talking about you.

[ Talking about herself is just depressing. ]

[She's picking up on that. But her own life isn't a cheery subject either.]

We don't have to talk about anything. I know you came here for the peace and quiet.

I came here thinking I might see you, actually.

[ A sniffle, and a little half-laugh. ] The crying was from something else, though.

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