twelve [written/action] | Saturday at a less silly time

[imatreenow]

[It isn't easy, having your eyes pried open and forced to look at a truth you never wanted to see. A few days have passed since Martel looked straight at him and explained that what he had done was wrong, and each minute since then as crawled by slowly, weighed down with tension. Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong... The word echoes off the walls of

Comments

[Written]

[whats_a_sneeze]

[Oh what a coincidence that she replies to this very thing. But she's getting rather fidgety, today; this means lots of talking. :|]

I'm not sure what the situation in my world is... nor what races may live there...

[Hmmm, she leans her pen to her chin for a moment. Tap, tap.]

Though I'd like to think people are good to each other.

[Written] 1/2

[imatreenow]

[His hand hesitates over the page. Of all people... She's the reason for those preposterous doubts; the person whose face and voice haven't left him alone for months. He almost doesn't reply, not knowing what to expect with her. Not wanting to risk treading back to everything he felt that morning...]

[Written]

[imatreenow]

[No, there can be no doubts. Everything needs to be set straight, including this.]

What would make you think that?

Re: [Written]

[whats_a_sneeze]

Well. People are their happiest when they see each other as equals, aren't they? If I were them and I hated someone based on what they were born as, I imagine I would be a bitter and unhappy person.

[Written]

[imatreenow]

People have never seen each other as equals. One group will find any excuse to look down on others and treat them as little more than animals.

Are you saying that you consider the feelings of the persecutors before the feelings of the persecuted?

Re: [Written]

[whats_a_sneeze]

[A pause, as she reads that last line.]

I consider both sides, but the feelings of those they've hurt will always come first; there's no excuse for being cruel toward someone because of what they were born as.

...

I've thought about it often, lately. The feeling of being looked down on, or that feeling of loneliness...

[Written]

[imatreenow]

[His initial thought is to write it off as hypocrisy; a part of him falters. His response almost gets lost somewhere in that gap.]

There is no reason other than fear. People pick apart the differences they see in others and grow insecure; they respond to the fear with hatred and oppression.

[He stares at that last part for longer than necessary. Briefly, his mind draws up a memory of gentleness. The imprint of a feeling that maybe she could understand loneliness... He shakes his head abruptly. Slowly, with half of him warning that he will regret it, he pens:] Elaborate further.

Re: [Written]

[whats_a_sneeze]

I

[It remains that way, for a beat or two. Or three.]

... have a disability. The books say that's what you can call it, anyway. I have something in my head that eats my memories to survive. Because of this... I forget things, sometimes the most basic of things.

[You remember, Mithos. The forgetting.]

I can read it on their faces a lot. There's this pity, or this look of horror... that I'm not normal anymore. I don't think they mean to, but they start treating me like I...

[She shakes her head. She's not sure if she could continue. These things, she's never admitted out loud, and she suddenly wishes she had a way of masking it from the public.]

I've thought about it often. Feeling alone in who you are, or feeling like everyone judges your capabilities based on one thing, and not just you.

[Written]

[imatreenow]

[Yes, he remembers... He remembers worrying about her and wanting to make her happy, above everything else. The memories are from a different life, but they're still his and he can't shake them no matter how hard he tries. He doesn't know with what to respond. The strange similarities leap out at him, and they're all he can see. He's felt the same way, many times...alone, ignored, looked down on, judged for being what he was born as. The circumstances are very different, but...

...No, he has to stay on track. He has to get back to where he can predict the outcome of the conversation. He can't go back there...back to where logic is frozen and suspended in the air. Except he still doesn't know what to write.]

Those who are seen as different did not have any choice in what they are or what their circumstances are, yet people look down on them for that very reason. [He pauses. The words sound far too much like sympathy and it unsettles him.]

Yet you have sympathy for the people who judge others based on something they did not choose.

[Written]

[whats_a_sneeze]

[She squares her shoulders, an aching smile across her features.]

That's just who I am. I don't... want to hate anybody. Even if they've looked down on me for my disability... or for being a human being.

I don't want to turn into them.

[Written] 1/2

[imatreenow]

[...He can't figure it out. There's some part of him that's stupid enough (lonely enough, desperate enough) to want to believe the words on the page, clinging to false memories of kindness. But he fights against it. He has to hate her; enough of his world has been turned upside-down and twisted inside-out these past few days. Something has to remain normal... He can't handle all of this.]

[Written]

[imatreenow]

[He sees something to latch onto, though.]

Humans are well-known across many worlds for spawning hatred and subjugating other groups for insubstantial reasons. Does it not make sense for others to cast them under heavy scrutiny?

Re: [Written]

[whats_a_sneeze]

[She hesitates.]

... I wouldn't really know. I don't remember very many people outside of Luceti... The only person I can remember is my son.

[She grips her pen, a shadow of distress flickering across her eyes.]

He is my only family that I know, I suppose.

[Her mother and father or anyone else in her family... she's not sure who they are anymore. She wasn't even sure if they ever came to see her, after she'd began losing her memories.]

I've spent most of my time with people here, in Luceti.

[Written]

[imatreenow]

[He doesn't know why, but something pangs inside him. Sadness? His grip on his pen tightens. He doesn't care about the problems of some human. Why should it matter to him? His left hand clenches, then unclenches. For a brief moment, a glimpse of blonde hair can be seen through the gap between fingers, perhaps a troubled blue eye, then the image darkens again.]

What of the people here? I would assume that you spend your time in the company of other humans. [All right, he's getting there, he's getting back on track. He needs to find what he expects.]

Re: [Written] 1/2

[whats_a_sneeze]

[She sees it-

and suddenly, a lot of things make all the sense in the world.

Do you expect her to forget that face?]

Re: [Written]

[whats_a_sneeze]

[A very soft smile crosses her lips, as she stares down at her own words.]

Not all of them are humans, no. I spend time with whoever doesn't mind mine.

[She laughs-silent reel of images.]

I imagine I must be pretty strange to most of them. Doing things like hiding from the rain and forgetting something they told me just yesterday.