I can't believe what you said to me, last night we were alone.
WHO: Raven and Rimmer. Closed log.
WHERE: Lake Placid house, their bedroom.
WHEN: Backdated to the night of this post.
WARNINGS: Heavy theological content and philosophy. Discussion of souls. Discussion of humanity and demons. A couple in their pyjamas in bed. Yannow, the usual.
SUMMARY: Rimmer is none too keen on the fact that Raven seems to ( Read more... )
WHERE: Lake Placid house, their bedroom.
WHEN: Backdated to the night of this post.
WARNINGS: Heavy theological content and philosophy. Discussion of souls. Discussion of humanity and demons. A couple in their pyjamas in bed. Yannow, the usual.
SUMMARY: Rimmer is none too keen on the fact that Raven seems to ( Read more... )
She tried just about anything to excuse why she didn't want to go to bed. Joseph, I'd love you watch you paint! David, we can watch a movie! Terrence, let's go out for icecream and no it doesn't matter that it's late! None of it worked, and she found herself marching up the stairs after being caught yawning. She couldn't get away with anything in this house, one of the downsides to being so close to them all.
She tossed Arnold a smile as she went to her dresser, and pulled out one of her longer nightgowns. She had various ones she wore... small silk and lace ones for obvious reasons, oversized nightshirts for long mornings with everyone downstairs, and then the long white gown that screamed 'I'm really in no mood for anything sexual, let me sleep'. The long gown went on tonight. Then she crawled up into bed and under the covers.
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But he dutifully tucked his bookmark back into his book, and yet did not put the book aside.
"Hallo," he said quietly.
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She really wasn't this cold, and she didn't feel she needed to be this cold, she just really didn't want to continue this discussion. This would ultimately undo a lot of the hard work she had pushed herself through, all that self-acceptance she had struggled for.
If he insisted the way she was born wasn't good enough, which was how she was personally hearing all of it, she would be out on that couch tonight. Simple as that.
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He wasn't thinking that it was her being not good enough. It worried him, though, that she so easily dismissed her humanity. She seemed to be focusing entirely on the negative aspects of her heritage, painting herself as a demon good for nothing more than endless wandering or eventual oblivion, and that upset him. He didn't want her beating herself up for who and what she was.
But since she was being so frigid, he'd return the favour with interest.
Arnold J. Rimmer, bastion of maturity and grace.
The tension in the bedroom ticked up by a few degrees, bringing the emotional temperature of the room to a frosty sort of late fall.
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... this too would pass, right? He'd get caught up in his book again, forget she was even there, and she'd fall asleep. Tomorrow they could have breakfast with the others, and everyone could just get over this.
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His shoulders started to slump a bit, in tempo with his face falling in disappointment as well. And he knew that she could feel every second of it, what she was doing to him. And, in his own petty way, he was glad. She was being stubborn. Another fight. Another bloody fight.
They were getting married too soon. That was the bottom line, and he knew it. They needed more time to work out their compromise points, their philosophies, their...their everythings. He loved her so much...and he kept on failing her, disappointing her, doing all these nasty things that made her roll her eyes and then go bring in another male to live under this roof. Probably so she'd have a buffet of choice when she finally did dump him.
The frigid upset started to slide in to Arctic depression, black and midnight blue and howling.
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Azar be damned...
Very slowly she allowed herself to roll over, but absolutely refused to look up at him. One, she knew she'd be able to see the pain on his features if she did... and two, she was already ashamed of how she had been acting.
Now facing him, she curled into his side. Maybe he'd take that as a silent apology? Maybe? If she was lucky?
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At the age of thirty-nine, Octavius was eligible to run for Praetor. According to flibble cloob blip beep tang marsh rammling...
The words turned to gibberish after he stared at them too hard, and he had to put the book down for a moment to rub at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. And he sighed, a deep, weary sigh of defeat.
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Her voice just barely broke over the harsh silence. His emotions were getting to be too much for her, and she had to wonder if he knew the level it affected her at. He could get his way with almost anything if he threw the proper emotions at her, the ones that would make her crack and fold to his will.
"More than anything."
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"I know you do," he whispered back. "I love you, too. Very, very much. So much that I..."
He brutally cut himself off, though, and prevented himself from finishing that sentence. Because the next words out of his mouth were going to be the opening salvo of that conversation she didn't want to have. He was a petty, immature smegger sometimes, but even he knew he had to shut his damn mouth tonight or there would be consequences.
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Very slowly she sat up, still against him, and tucked her chin onto his shoulder with a heavy sigh of her own.
"... it's okay, Arnold. Best to get it over with..."
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He automatically adjusted with her, slinking down a little lower so she wouldn't have to crane her neck to rest her chin on his shoulder. And he also rested the side of his face against hers, his temple against her forehead.
"You've made it very clear you don't want to talk about this. So we won't discuss it."
Even though he so desperately wanted to. It bothered him in some subtle and insidious ways, that she was being so adamant about this topic, that she had absolute, indelible proof of her soul, or lack thereof. Especially given his own status as a hologram. Her insistence that she wasn't like him in this area worried him, since they had so much else in common...stupid, but there it was.
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She was in no hurry to pull away, or even move closer. The way they were sitting now was just fine - being close without being all over one another. How was she going to face this without there being another argument? No matter how she tried to phrase it in her mind, it always seemed to lead to that point.
... oh well.
"... so it's okay."
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"What is this, emotional blackmail? Tonight you barely even look at me, don't say a word to me, and it's only when you can feel how depressed that makes me, that you reverse course so I don't give you a headache? Thanks, Raven. Thanks for nothing."
And then he realises how that sounds. Welp. She's got him pegged. Bitter resentment, table for one! He sighed again and shook his head.
"All right, fine. True. But you're the one who's been avoiding me all night. Why? Why aren't you willing to talk to me about this?"
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"Because... you seem to think what I believe is wrong... or... is a bad thing for me to believe." she grimaced a bit as the words came out.
"I'd like this to be something I can believe without people telling me I'm wrong."
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...Why was he the one to so loudly insist that he was less-than-human as a hologram? Because it was his own form of self-punishment, his figurative rosary beads to worry and gnaw on and count his guilts and his sins. In that one flash of insight, he got it, and the resentment melted into something considerably warmer. Something like...well, no, not pity, but fellow-feeling.
"Because everybody tells you you're always wrong about everything else, but everybody agrees that you have no soul, is that it?"
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