Blue
Title: Blue
Fandom: Firefly
Author:
summoner_lenne9
Rating PG13
Word Count 1284
Characters: River, with many many mentions of Simon.
Warnings: Slight disturbing imagery. Crazy River is Crazy.
A/N: If I owned Firefly it would still be alive, though I do own a Jayne hat though!
River is the ship, and the ship is River. She always was, from the moment that she set foot in the star-borne vessel, and its gray walls sang of stars and guns and vagrants. (For one is birthed where they are Home, and Serenity is Home in the sea of the sky. The River of the Past had a home once, but she has long since been scattered to the wind.) But that eternal moment of Shipdom was Always, because the time before the Always is a time of Nothing. River can be in many places at once, and nowhere at all, and one of the times is the Nothing time. When she was broken and prodded and cut into, Over and Over and Over with sharp scalpels in her amygdala and voices and weapons training and Make It Stop Just Kill Me Now Please Oh God Why.
That was Nothing. The time before Nothing was something else, computably impossible- nothing can exist before Nothing. Nothing is a state of being, but there cannot be anything before Nothing.
And yet sometimes she is There as well. Sometimes she is running home and hugging her father and dancing for Simon to see, around in circles, on her toes and leaping in the air, and reading his textbook and logically stating that the Hypthundic Theory of Space Travel is fundamentally flawed because a wave of matter can only travel proportionate to the acceleration of the speed of light in that current dimension, and her dress is blue as it spins and their hands are blue and they’re Hurting Her Hurting Her Hurting Her.
But River is not just herself. Herself is not defined, herself is not a thing of substance- she was once an ice swan, beautiful and poised, but she cracked and melted and is not Together anymore. She flits and flows, and swirls. And so River is Everyone, and Everyone is River. She Hears everything. She Knew things before, but now she Knows and Hears. She’s Knows the Shepherd’s past, deep down in the corners and canvases of his mind where he keep it locked up in a cage like a bird with its wings clipped, (though it’s really very obvious and she does not understand why the rest of the crew cannot see), and that he also is made of many spinning moving parts, all twirling and trying to be held together and succeeding, for now. She Knows that Jayne betrayed them, and he is the only one who can see River clearly.
She Knows that Simon loves his sister (Simon does not know she does not exist anymore, that this glued together mess of broken pieces he still calls River is never and can never be His River), but he is not Whole. He is caught in the web of her broken pieces, and she’s ripping him to shreds. She cuts into him over and over and over with surgical precision and perhaps if she removes a section more of the Pons it will efficiently create the desired effect and soon he will be Nothing too, and he still loves her, and she cries bloody tears of blue as Serenity sings, and he longs for the Past, when everything was simpler and he did not know River was shattered. She knows that The Girl is the most promising specimen they have ever acquired, and with a few more ounces of Grey Matter removed, perhaps shutting down a few more vital Emotional Barriers she can become the weapon they need-
The voices define River. She hears everything, because River is a cat, walking through the night, slinking into the Nothingness. She is Nothing, but she is Nothing with ears. She is the ears of the ‘verse, and the ears of the Crew, and each voice becomes her, because she wants to eat strawberries and she can speak of This Land and wants to throttle Mal as very much as she wants to grab him and kiss him senseless, and she needs to finish her Rudimentary Gravitational Physics homework and they’re poking sharp needles in her eyes to test the limits of her strength, her endurance, and she’s falling to pieces and no one can hear her cry-
The voice she Hears loudest is Simon’s. River does not have enough parts left to work, but love does not heed this requirement. So she loves him more than any power in the ‘verse, and wishes he would take a bullet to her head and lay her down in the blue flowers of the Worlds they can never call Home again- she drained the heart out of anything she touched- and then he will live his life in skies of pink and fields of green with Kaylee and he can smile and not be held beneath the river gasping on oxygen, suffocating and drowning because he has no choice, because he loves her. Simon wants her to be healed, to be the River That Once Was, but that girl never existed. That girl is from Before The Nothing. She has melted away, never to return. And in her absence River needs to be everyone, absorb everyone. Serenity functions in this matter to survive as well. By herself Serenity is Nothing- an empty hull. But they come, and fill her up, and give her life. They dance around inside, with their sullen language and trysts and feuds and love, and they make Serenity Whole. When they leave her, she’s Alone and Cold and Barren. So Serenity understands River, and River understands Serenity. River is Serenity. River is the ship.
Because when Serenity is Whole, when she is composed of so many fragmented parts that are bonded in a carelessly, incomprehensibly glued together concoction- like a child’s art craft, paying no attention to Diane’s law of Structural Reality- somehow it works. Somehow the spinning parts fit together, and they’re beautiful.
For when River is Serenity, she doesn’t need to continue to attempt to compute for Simon the illogical conclusion that his mei-mei can surface again from this broken body and splintered mind. By Hoxer’s theory of spatial reality one object in spatial time can only ever be in one location at once, one thing at a time, in any time, for all times are One. She doesn’t need to attempt to glue herself together- she can be a hull, waiting to be filled. No identity except those around her. She lost herself in those days that can no longer exist in any reality. The Alliance took that girl, that twirling spinning girl, and they shattered her with the Blue- hands and rooms and computations of the most efficient way to twist a man’s neck and shatter his spinal cord in 2.3 seconds. But now all that remains is the black, the black and the warm inside.
Hoxer’s theory states that one object can only be anywhere at once, and so the Blue cannot exist without River. For River displays every aspect of Blue. That’s what those Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng bastards intended. China doll, used by the state, wind her up and discard her when she’s broken. Rivers are blue, and without River the Blue is Nothing too. She runs through currents, breaking violently against the rocky shore, endlessly flowing towards the ocean. Eternal suffocating piercing Blue, and they want to destroy the tiny pieces scattered on the wind of River that the crew desperately hunts down. You can’t stop the wind, it will blow freely where Man cannot, and twist and twirl and never stop. But when River is gone so is the Blue. All gone, all colored drained but the black.
And when all that is left is the black, I can be whole.
Fandom: Firefly
Author:
summoner_lenne9
Rating PG13
Word Count 1284
Characters: River, with many many mentions of Simon.
Warnings: Slight disturbing imagery. Crazy River is Crazy.
A/N: If I owned Firefly it would still be alive, though I do own a Jayne hat though!
River is the ship, and the ship is River. She always was, from the moment that she set foot in the star-borne vessel, and its gray walls sang of stars and guns and vagrants. (For one is birthed where they are Home, and Serenity is Home in the sea of the sky. The River of the Past had a home once, but she has long since been scattered to the wind.) But that eternal moment of Shipdom was Always, because the time before the Always is a time of Nothing. River can be in many places at once, and nowhere at all, and one of the times is the Nothing time. When she was broken and prodded and cut into, Over and Over and Over with sharp scalpels in her amygdala and voices and weapons training and Make It Stop Just Kill Me Now Please Oh God Why.
That was Nothing. The time before Nothing was something else, computably impossible- nothing can exist before Nothing. Nothing is a state of being, but there cannot be anything before Nothing.
And yet sometimes she is There as well. Sometimes she is running home and hugging her father and dancing for Simon to see, around in circles, on her toes and leaping in the air, and reading his textbook and logically stating that the Hypthundic Theory of Space Travel is fundamentally flawed because a wave of matter can only travel proportionate to the acceleration of the speed of light in that current dimension, and her dress is blue as it spins and their hands are blue and they’re Hurting Her Hurting Her Hurting Her.
But River is not just herself. Herself is not defined, herself is not a thing of substance- she was once an ice swan, beautiful and poised, but she cracked and melted and is not Together anymore. She flits and flows, and swirls. And so River is Everyone, and Everyone is River. She Hears everything. She Knew things before, but now she Knows and Hears. She’s Knows the Shepherd’s past, deep down in the corners and canvases of his mind where he keep it locked up in a cage like a bird with its wings clipped, (though it’s really very obvious and she does not understand why the rest of the crew cannot see), and that he also is made of many spinning moving parts, all twirling and trying to be held together and succeeding, for now. She Knows that Jayne betrayed them, and he is the only one who can see River clearly.
She Knows that Simon loves his sister (Simon does not know she does not exist anymore, that this glued together mess of broken pieces he still calls River is never and can never be His River), but he is not Whole. He is caught in the web of her broken pieces, and she’s ripping him to shreds. She cuts into him over and over and over with surgical precision and perhaps if she removes a section more of the Pons it will efficiently create the desired effect and soon he will be Nothing too, and he still loves her, and she cries bloody tears of blue as Serenity sings, and he longs for the Past, when everything was simpler and he did not know River was shattered. She knows that The Girl is the most promising specimen they have ever acquired, and with a few more ounces of Grey Matter removed, perhaps shutting down a few more vital Emotional Barriers she can become the weapon they need-
The voices define River. She hears everything, because River is a cat, walking through the night, slinking into the Nothingness. She is Nothing, but she is Nothing with ears. She is the ears of the ‘verse, and the ears of the Crew, and each voice becomes her, because she wants to eat strawberries and she can speak of This Land and wants to throttle Mal as very much as she wants to grab him and kiss him senseless, and she needs to finish her Rudimentary Gravitational Physics homework and they’re poking sharp needles in her eyes to test the limits of her strength, her endurance, and she’s falling to pieces and no one can hear her cry-
The voice she Hears loudest is Simon’s. River does not have enough parts left to work, but love does not heed this requirement. So she loves him more than any power in the ‘verse, and wishes he would take a bullet to her head and lay her down in the blue flowers of the Worlds they can never call Home again- she drained the heart out of anything she touched- and then he will live his life in skies of pink and fields of green with Kaylee and he can smile and not be held beneath the river gasping on oxygen, suffocating and drowning because he has no choice, because he loves her. Simon wants her to be healed, to be the River That Once Was, but that girl never existed. That girl is from Before The Nothing. She has melted away, never to return. And in her absence River needs to be everyone, absorb everyone. Serenity functions in this matter to survive as well. By herself Serenity is Nothing- an empty hull. But they come, and fill her up, and give her life. They dance around inside, with their sullen language and trysts and feuds and love, and they make Serenity Whole. When they leave her, she’s Alone and Cold and Barren. So Serenity understands River, and River understands Serenity. River is Serenity. River is the ship.
Because when Serenity is Whole, when she is composed of so many fragmented parts that are bonded in a carelessly, incomprehensibly glued together concoction- like a child’s art craft, paying no attention to Diane’s law of Structural Reality- somehow it works. Somehow the spinning parts fit together, and they’re beautiful.
For when River is Serenity, she doesn’t need to continue to attempt to compute for Simon the illogical conclusion that his mei-mei can surface again from this broken body and splintered mind. By Hoxer’s theory of spatial reality one object in spatial time can only ever be in one location at once, one thing at a time, in any time, for all times are One. She doesn’t need to attempt to glue herself together- she can be a hull, waiting to be filled. No identity except those around her. She lost herself in those days that can no longer exist in any reality. The Alliance took that girl, that twirling spinning girl, and they shattered her with the Blue- hands and rooms and computations of the most efficient way to twist a man’s neck and shatter his spinal cord in 2.3 seconds. But now all that remains is the black, the black and the warm inside.
Hoxer’s theory states that one object can only be anywhere at once, and so the Blue cannot exist without River. For River displays every aspect of Blue. That’s what those Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng bastards intended. China doll, used by the state, wind her up and discard her when she’s broken. Rivers are blue, and without River the Blue is Nothing too. She runs through currents, breaking violently against the rocky shore, endlessly flowing towards the ocean. Eternal suffocating piercing Blue, and they want to destroy the tiny pieces scattered on the wind of River that the crew desperately hunts down. You can’t stop the wind, it will blow freely where Man cannot, and twist and twirl and never stop. But when River is gone so is the Blue. All gone, all colored drained but the black.
And when all that is left is the black, I can be whole.