log | closed

[impossibly]

who River (impossibly) and Isley (swordofthenorth).
when some time after Isley's tears down Headquarters. following this thread.
where h-Headquarters.
format prose.
warnings will edit if any, but I doubt it.
summary Just two perfectly ordinary people taking a stroll and talking about their worlds. Nothing to see here, folks!

Comments

[swordofthenorth]

Despite a deep seeded loathing for the fragility of humans, every so often one managed to come along and intrigue Isley. River was no exception

[impossibly]

River spun around at the sound of his voice, suddenly direct instead of wandering wind-blown. A bee-line; but this was no blossom. Strange to see him all daubed with grey and silver and shadows, muted. Dangerous things should be marked by bright colours. But he was still beautiful.

The fray of his hem spoke not of ancient dead things, the sails of ghostly sea-ships. His hair was like a blade, and his eyes seemed even sharper. There was presence, here, practically a force of gravity, pulling lesser things into it's orbit. River went willingly.

"You win," River acceded, without bitterness. She turned over his words (slick and slippery.). Nice seemed inaccurate. "Not many people think so." But perhaps Isley didn't have many people to talk to. Coming to a stop quite closely, she peered into his face, trying to see to the bottom of that unrippling pool. At first glance he didn't seem like he could teem with sharks. "But you do."

[swordofthenorth]

Were his eyes bright enough for her, golden and cold like a winter's sun? Did they speak enough of the danger that lurked behind their false warmth, or act a beacon to unsuspecting creatures, warding them away?

Perhaps not.

They peered perceptively back at River, down when she approached, the distance between them cut in half, and then by a quarter. Though sharp, they were not full of malice. Though cold, they were not uninviting. "I don't often share the same opinions as others," the Abyssal confided, taking in the mop of tousled brown locks atop River's head, her robust mouth, and her intelligent round eyes.

"You understand that, don't you? There aren't many that would have come to meet me the way that you have, after all."

Not many that would have taken his promise not to eat them at face value, either.

[impossibly]

"I am quite unique," agrees River plainly. She sees no point in denying it. After all, it had almost been true well before she was shaped by government scientists. Now that she's been smashed apart and pieced back together it is even moreso. No-one has cracks like hers. No discussion needed.

But she came because he seems the unique one; beyond her, somehow. And if Isley put all of that greatness towards the vast reaches of outer space instead of games of chess, who knew what he could achieve in this back-end place.

She knows that she's just a particularly beloved chicken who is still destined to be roast dinner. But wasn't Scheherezade just a woman? "Does your planet have a moon?" she asks as conversationally as though it were a logical follow-on from introductions and not a leap back to a far earlier discussion.

[swordofthenorth]

What did River hope to accomplish by meeting with Isley

[impossibly]

Hunger. Such a natural desire, and so fickle, and when she catches a flash-glimpse of it in Isley the depth of it trembles out to her toes in P-waves. Saliva floods her mouth; she blinks, swallows, realizes he's started down the yellow brick road without her

[swordofthenorth]

Isley knew a great deal of things that were impossible to calculate, much of which he'd learned from first hand exposure. Anyone witness to the Awakened Priscilla's powers knew of that

[impossibly]

Wide-eyed, River listens to this reasoning, watches as the individual particles that once were a whole stone catch in the breeze. She feels abruptly melancholy.

The rock had done nothing more than be present when a lesson was needed. She must watch her words. To someone like Isley, who thinks of everything as having the most fleeting existence, would a person be worth any more consideration than a pebble on the roadside?

And yet, she cannot predict what he will do or say next, and therein lies his dangerous charm.

River acknowledges his words with a nod: information received, synthesized, compartmentalized. She likes to learn new things, and though his argument grows flawed on a planetary scale, it's worth considering that the expansion she had referenced earlier could be seen as time's erosion, proof of an ever-changing universe.

Instead of trying to explain this to Isley, she asks: "Then what would you like to own?"

[swordofthenorth]

His golden eyes regarded the dust dispassionately; it was traces of what it once had been, but no more than that, scattered into nothingness at the brush of a breeze. There was no hope for it of being whole now that it was destroyed.

The chalky lines were clapped off his hands before he turned his reflective gaze upon River again. Had he upset her? For the briefest of moments she seemed discontent, almost mournful for the rock.

Such a fragile thing, this girl... And yet he was not repulsed by her. Her fragility was not like that of the stone. He could crush her if he choosed to do so, but she would remain in the hearts she had touched, and in the memories of those that cared for her

this is so so late, I'm sorry

[impossibly]

Those cool fingers were butterfly light, even as they turned her, but River could not help but think of the rock again as he touched her chin, her eyes meeting his unearthly ones.

It was not that she disagreed. One cluster of atoms wasn't dissimilar to another: reality was in the mind, impossibly large, lines drawn from hands and eyes to books and screens and back again, Yggdrasil sprouting from the crown, dropping Newton's apple, or was it a plum? The value of physical objects was arbitrary.

Yet. River is not sure she owns all of herself, if she owns any. A glance away, to the side, reacting to something too bright. Pupils dilating.

"What about other people?"

She doesn't mean for her, of course she doesn't. But from her experience people tended to spend a lot of time trying to own other people. (Everyone has a match, a mate, a Doppler.)

Likewise...so don't worry about it! You don't mind backlogging still, right~?

[swordofthenorth]

"People can be owned in name alone, River." His fingers found their way from her chin to her cheek, brushing over youthful flesh with an aberrant softness. His fingertips trailed into the hair at her temple, pushing it carefully behind her ear. "For example...if I wanted you, there is nothing that you could do to prevent me from taking you. That being said, if I did that, it would not mean that I had any real claim to you, that I owned you in any way. You alone decide that. Only you have that power...that right