14 ☆ Revival
Good morning, everyone. Last night, I have found myself hatched anew in the Hall of Beginnings. It was a relief that not only can I remember what I had named myself before, but also many of the experiences I have had and people I have met in the last seven months
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A waiter came with their orders just as Hawk finished his apology explanation. With practiced ease, she put on a smile. Thank you, nice weather, no this would be all. The smile faded as soon as the waiter turned away. Slowly, she put sugar and milk into her cup. A reason not to look him squarely in the eyes.]
It really was painful, dying like that. [Stir, stir. She spoke just a tad above a whisper.] But if the reason I became a target was our connection, then I am as culpable as yourself by fostering one side of it. I don't think it's something that needs forgiveness.
[A sip, then she continued in a firmer manner.]
I guess what I'm seeking right now is some clarity. Tree-creation is one thing, but if it was true that the other selves were modeled after the real ones, does it mean you possess its destructive powers as well? And if you do, how much control do you have of it?
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That's not really in my definition of friendship--taking blame for caring for someone, that is.
[His voice was quiet, and he drew breath as if to continue, then stilled as she went on first. As he heard the whole of her question, something darkened in his gaze. Careful as he wanted to be, there was something she did not quite seem to have grasped, and he needed to set that straight. Hawk held up his head, just so she could see his face and know he spoke the truth.]
Don't think that it's a mindless beast. It was tianlóng, a heavenly being--or rather a shadow, a warped mockery of one. Cruel and murderous. Nothing heedless about its actions, though.
[He hadn't touched the tea yet, and he didn't now. His hand on the table curled closed.]
Do I share its powers? No. It killed because it could, but it did so wilfully and not on instinct. But I can take a similar shape, yes. [His expression softened, if only to twist with something akin to wry discomfort.] Suppose it's a good thing. You'd have come back to a few missing friends otherwise.
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[Heavenly being. Stellaris' eyes narrowed a little. That phrase invoked the strangely familiar words in Lyle's radio memory, 'celestial being', but the concept Hawk presented didn't feel fitting at all. Throughout history, words like heaven and celestial had been associated with human belief in the divine, but even as mankind extended their reach beyond the clouds where gods were thought to reside, the unverifiable claims remained, with adjustments over time.
Her expression then softened into one akin to regret.]
I have not suggested it to be mindless, have I? Yet if you meant to suggest reverence, I'm afraid the most I can offer is respect that that is the way of your world, just like it is a reality that a man shifts form into a dragon. My concern is safety in this place, of mine, of those around you's, perhaps even yourself in case the power was something that could [she paused ever so briefly, swallowing a lump in her throat] take over your mind. I cannot dismiss possibilities in this place, even if it makes me doubt those I care about. But then you explained, and yes, it is a good thing to know.
[She still looked at him some time after finishing, as if deliberating what to say next, but eventually she sat back. Her fingers toyed with her cup and its handle.]
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As she finished, he nodded once acknowledge her words, then let the silence settle.]
That creature and I--are not the same, Stellaris. I swear that on my life.
And as for worship, I say that's between you and your gods. [He spoke quite seriously, but there was a small glimmer in his eye at that.] That's the most anyone can expect in this place.
[Before the silence could stretch too long and awkward, he reached into the bag at his side and withdrew an object wrapped in a piece of fabric. He had picked her handgun from the snow, remembered it only after Lyle had left with her body, and by then thought it might only be a needless reminder of her. Now, he pushed the folded cloth and the gun into the middle of the table, and spoke quietly.]
This is yours. I found it, afterwards.
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[It seemed like a fair principle. It also felt rather bitter to say, after that inauspicious second birth dream.]
But gods, hm? I honestly can't recall having that sort of belief.
[Her airy vocalised pondering was interrupted by the mild surprise. She unfolded the wrap and found it indeed matched her handgun's appearance: a subcompact with black polymer frame and metallic slide. A reminder, somewhat, of her futile counter-attack, but she didn't and wouldn't regret fighting back.
Though perhaps she should get Lyle to teach her how to use a submachine.]
Thanks for keeping this safe.
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Her friends, was it? He couldn't help a twitch of regret. There was the urge to ask a question and then caution smothered it just as swiftly.]
Mm-hm. I'm glad I didn't end up just keeping it. [Suddenly feeling weary, he rose onto knees and toes, ready to rise from his sitting position.] Was there anything else? I did come to answer your questions.
[If she thought that his stirring to leave was abrupt, she might have well been right. The conversation was a weight, if one he'd shouldered willingly. So much passed unsaid in the space where he'd almost come to expect a warm, easy welcome, the gentle teasing and laughter between friends.]
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No, so if you need to excuse yourself now, it's alright. But... look, Hawk. Although this situation has more than enough known and unknown factors to make both of us uncomfortable, I hope it won't turn us into strangers afterwards.
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She was his friend.
Having rounded a corner of the table, he crouched down, closer now to her than before. Perhaps there was a way to share some of the burden. His voice gentled almost without his meaning.]
Stellaris. When you came in the door, I wanted to stand up and hold you like a friend returned. Take that as the reason for joy that it is.
I didn't. We both know why. I see someone I care for that I failed. You see the face of your killer. There's pain in both of those things.
[Cautiously, he rested his right hand, palm up, fingers open, on the table--for her to take if she wished. A part of him wanted to withdraw before she rebuked him or turned down the gesture, but he held it down.]
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The killer's face and not the killer. Trust me to know the difference, please.
[And a nagging thought formed on the back of her mind that even if he did kill her, it may be justified depending on reason and circumstances. Strange, nagging thought. She glossed over it with an addendum, accompanied with mildly amused smile.]
After all, it would be strange if I treat Lyle and his brother similarly just because they're twins, wouldn't it?
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I reckon so. They do appear very much alike, now I think on it. [Hawk didn't know either brother well, but had seen Lockon at the weapons stall enough times to remember his face.]
I could hardly do other than trust you on that, could I? And as strange as it is death doesn't cut a bond in this place, I'd still call you my friend.
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