[open] a friend in need is a friend indeed
There is so much Lily Fuchizaki needs to do. There's the whole catching up on grad school after her ward went partially insane bit, but right now, she's on her way up to see Iris in the Kashtta. That doesn't mean she won't bump into a few other people on the way. If anything, it's pretty likely considering how overly polite she can get.
Sailor ( Read more... )
Sailor ( Read more... )
It feels like a release, in an odd way-- the idea that she can just give up on the idea of what's good and what's not, that she doesn't have to carry the burden any more. You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it. She wants, so badly, to abandon it. She has worked and worked, and all has come to nothing.
It idly crosses her mind that if what makes a person good doesn't matter, then what does? But perhaps that's the point. Nothing matters. All this that lies before you is yours to deal with as you see fit.
--no. She can't believe it. She can't ever become a person who truly believes in that morality. She knows she opposes it, even as she descends into it. She just doesn't have the strength for any other choice.
It makes her bad, but maybe it's okay to be bad. Thanatos was, after all, named the Mana of Evil by those in ignorance. The two of them were always the closest. This sinking isn't good, but maybe it's okay, if it's all she can really do.
Of course, it's not too long before Lily says the magic words. Fix. Rehabilitate. Wing loss. And there's an unable to figure out in there, too, and she is not so naive as she was that she would ignore that, not any longer, not after this much pain. But still, she's intrigued. She can't help but be, even as her mind is screaming this path only ever leads to more pain.
"You can't fix them," she says, getting that out of the way first and foremost. "But you-- rehabilitate them. Help them to... to live, or something, as they are." She chews over that. As they are. Less than whole. "You... help them to cope, somehow. With being cripples. Defective." She wouldn't use the cutting, cruel words on anyone else, but she can't help but use them on herself. It's how she feels.
"It's a good idea." And you want to help me that way too, perhaps, she thinks. "But I don't think I want to live that way."
The old Iris would have reached out to Lily's tears. This Iris is locked up tight, to keep from shedding them herself.
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Because who wants to live broken? Losing everything that's the core of you? It may abate the Calling, make things hurt less, but at the same time, you are not longer what made you you. And that's just not good for the psyche.
"But no, I can't fix them. I can't make them whole again. But I can help them find fulfillment in other things. Perhaps, even after time, help them not see themselves as defective or crippled, but just as they are. Right now -- I don't think you're in a place where I can completely help you. But if you can just stick around, a bit longer, so we can see. See if I can help. Because that's all I want to do."
Heal them first, so when you break them later, it's all the better.
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She nods, softly. "I'll be here for a while," she says. "Or... well, I'll be somewhere, I guess. If I'm not here-here, then... the journals. You know."
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Lies. All of the lies, adding up, the pain twitching in her wings. They jerk, brushing up against the bed. She pulls them back in, looking upset. She should have better control than this.
"Speaking of, I brought you something." She reaches into her bag, pulling out a wrapped package. Inside is a small collection of books. She never was much of a fiction reader, but the clerk at the bookstore had been more than helpful. There's a bunch of YA fantasy and one book leaning more towards science fiction.
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"...You didn't have to," she says, unwrapping the package with shaky fingers, yet ensuring her motions are careful, not crude. It wouldn't do to rip the paper in front of the one giving you a gift. "Thank you, Lily. It... does get boring in here. It'll be nice to have something to read."
She runs her fingers over the titles on the spines: they aren't terribly revealing. She finds herself wondering if Lily's deliberately gone for books featuring winged people, or books without. There'll be something missing either way. Though that won't be the books' fault.
She sets the books down neatly at her side, a marginal light seeming to dawn in her eyes as she remembers their conversation of slightly earlier.
She picks up her canvas and turns it now to show Lily. It's a painting mostly in reds, greys and whites, not terribly well-rendered, but it doesn't seem intended to be. There's something of the feel of protest art about it, a raw scream encapsulated in paper. Amidst a burning city, crude fingures of winged men are hunted down, shot from the skies, left in the gutters in puddles of blood. One struggling figure looks disturbingly as if she's being raped. It's not the type of art one might have expected from Iris at all.
"This is... I don't know," she says, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. "It made me think of what you said, about those people. There must be-- so many, if you're working with them. I painted this. I thought I was just painting for myself, but... maybe I think I was painting because I wanted to-- to have a voice." She looks down at the painting, the fake-blood-smeared paper, the dappled watercolour smoke billowing up into the sky. "I feel like... I don't know. Maybe we could do something. With these voices. If I die, I... don't want my voice to go unheard. I want people to know what it was like. Maybe you could find a place to put these-- an exhibit--"
She shakes her head. "I don't know. And... it's not like I paint well, or anything. I just feel like... we should show people. I feel like... even if I'm not alive, I want people to keep hearing." Her eyes are intense, over the rim of the paper.
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"There are quite a few," she says. It's a lie. There aren't that many, and really, she needs to be looking at wing removal as a cure for some of the problems AoVs deal with, but Iris doesn't need to know that. There's so much Iris doesn't need to know.
"You know, even with the art, it's kind of hard for them to hear your voice when you're gone. Let's show people together."
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"It's a nice idea, but... I'm not sure what I can do," she says, mildly. "I could stand there holding these, or I could... accompany my own exhibit, I guess. But doesn't that just make me a target? Isn't that what everyone keeps telling me I shouldn't do? Be public?"
There's an edge to her voice now, just a hint of one. "If I thought for a moment that it would be safe for me to-- to build a platform in Grant Park, and shout about what happened to me until my throat was sore, until my lungs gave out... I'd do it." She shrugs a little. "I might do it anyway, if there's nothing else left. But... I don't think that's what you had in mind."
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She smiles, leaning forward. "It just takes a little bit of figuring things out. I can help you with that. In fact, we could even set up a fundraiser. To help those who have been hurt by the CLF. You could speak about what's happened to you. You can do that, without getting hurt worse.
"I promise."
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Ever since Owen had cowed her with his words, pumped cold sedative into her veins, robbed her of her ability to say no-- she's been longing to scream. To shout, to speak, to tell the world in her own words, without mitigation or censorship, how she feels. How it hurts. How it's so wrong, and how it should never be allowed to happen to anybody again.
It's the only thing, perhaps, that could enthuse her now; that, and the prospect of healing. Of course, she seems less than enthused still, her motions still sluggish, her expression still drained; but there's something in there, a twist of urgency. It's small, but Lily's a Fuchizaki. She'll pick it up easily enough.
"I... I want to," she says, and she's not sure if the stammer is from fear, or anger, or hope. "Help me. Please."
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She pauses, looking over at the painting. "I can get you a journal -- a non psychic one -- and maybe you can mull over what you'd say, when you have a chance to say it. Maybe that'll help until I can set something up for you."
She hopes it's enough. She has to keep Iris alive, hoping. For Kaden's sake, at the very lease. She could try to replace Iris, with some other girl, but then he'll still have to figure out why Iris left. Even though it's not his fault. It can't be his fault.
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She looks away, somewhat sheepish, when she says her next words. "Please... let it be soon. I know-- you've got other things, I know you're busy and stuff... I just... I can't wait forever." She smiles a wry smile in the direction of the floor. "Just... being honest. I really... I really do appreciate it, though. Thank you."
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"And it's not a problem. Anything else I can do for you, just ask, okay?" Not that she necessarily has to do it, but offers like that tend to make people trust you more. "Not even necessarily now, but you can journal or call me any time."
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A splotch of red paint is squeezed out onto the paper, bright and blobby and fresh.
"Thank you," she whispers again, hearing the awareness in Lily's I know. For a moment, she's sad to have saddened her, but... honesty, now. She will get nowhere, any more, without honesty.
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And hopefully, that will change things. But for now, she'll try to be a sympathetic shoulder, even if she doesn't particularly want to be.
Whatever works.
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Really, she just feels the sooner Lily's helping give her a space to speak, the better she'll feel. It might not change anything, but the act in potentia, simmering at the bottom of her heart, waiting for release, will only make her anxious. And she doesn't need any more anxiety right now.
She smiles her best smile, not sure whether another thank you for coming is overdoing it.
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