OMP Mun Prompt # 12
MUN PROMPT: How's your muse's mental health? Do they see a therapist? Should they? What kind of mental conditions do they have? Do they hear voices, have hallucinations or think they are gods? Are they completely bonkers or just mildly annoying? Lay down on Dr. Mod's couch and tell us all about the mental health of your muse (and maybe how it affects your mental health, too).
Alec. Alec is . . . intrinsically damaged. There is something deep down in the core of him that is broken. And it's so pervasive to him, to his personality, to his soul, to everything about him, that it's often hard to see at all. Because all you see is Alec, as you've always known him.
He's one of those people that always wears a smile. It's not that he's pasting it on. It really is genuine, because he doesn't know any other way to be. He's learned to live with the cracks, breaks, and damage, because that's all he's made up of. He was nearly born that way.
He's pretty sure the first one happened moments after his birth, when they took his brother away from him. Clone or twin, either way they spent nine months together; they should have stayed together. They weren't made to be alone. If they had, maybe things would have gone better. Maybe they would have jumped the wire together and Ben would have been all right out in the world, because he wasn't alone. Maybe Alec wouldn't have latched onto Rachel the way he did when he met her.
Not that he regrets it; he loved her, loves her still, but something else was broken when he met her, and then shattered when she was taken from him. She was a double whammy. He fell in love with her, and it turned so much of what Manticore taught, told him, into a lie. Broken the very foundation he had lived on for his entire life. It was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. At least, the worst thing that he could put a finger on. And then she'd started to heal the damage. A little bit here, smoothing over a crack there. There were still gaping wounds, but healing had begun, and the new form of him wasn't like the old. He felt better. He felt at all. On a deep level. He felt like maybe he had a soul.
Then they took her away, and everything that she had repaired was shattered, but still there. So now he had feelings, a heart and soul, and those were hauled in to Manticore for reconditioning. So he did the only sane thing he could do. He let it all callus over, let it grow hard. As close to where he had been before as he could get. He was already broken twelve ways from Sunday, what would one more matter?
Then Manticore went down. And his world was taken out from under him again. No purpose, no safety. No quiet eight by twelve cell at night that was so boring it was restful. No one telling him what was right and what was wrong. Even if he knew they were full of shit, he could still use it. He'd made choices for himself and all it did was hurt. Sometimes in the night, he'd dream of Rachel or a face just like his own that sometimes he hated and sometimes he loved, or the open sky and no fence, and he could feel the broken pieces that made up his whole shift and grind together. The edges sanding down and smoothing out so they didn't cut so badly. They would never fit together again. The grooves, niches, and joints that would have formed a seamless whole with the right kind of glue had worn away over time. He had never known differently though; he had always been broken, so he knew how to settle for the immediate cessation of pain.
Manticore tore itself apart and he was out on his own. He would learn to deal with having to make his own choices. Eventually the broken pieces would jostle and arrange themselves in a way he could live with. His feelings were callused over enough that he didn't give a fuck about much of anyone else.
Except in the end that wasn't true. The other escapees were all discovering that they had souls and minds of their own. And they were all damaged, but not like him. He had extra torture. He knew that. It wasn't self pity; it was fact. No one else had been in Psy-Ops as many times and not been put down for parts. There were some people that broke his record, but he didn't know them yet.
It took some time, but the pieces of himself shifted again and everything that was good started to sift to the surface. Colliding with all the training he'd ever gotten about being a leader. And he had had a good amount of training. Lydecker had always believed that he was one of the best, even if he was damaged. He found himself at the front of Terminal City. He had been drifting towards some sort of leadership role for a while. He knew he had the ability to command, to get people moving, to get things done. But when it all fell into place for him, it had nothing to do with him being in control.
He was being held at gun point. By Mole, but still. It all snapped into place over Gem, who was having a baby. Right then and there. And all of the broken, sliding, grinding pieces that made up Alec told him one thing. That baby was not going to break. That baby was going to be born with a body and soul, undamaged. That baby was going to have a mother that loved it, and people to look after it. No one was going to hold it under water until it drowned, just to see if it could hold its breath for seven minutes. No one was going to shoot it, burn it, break its bones, damage its organs, or any other number of vile things just to see if it could heal or chart how long it would take. No one was going to tell it to kill someone to protect a stupid secret. No one was going to give it a gun instead of a stuffed toy. No one was going to hurt that baby the way he had been hurt. The way they all had.
If he had to stand between Gem and the rest of the world to see that happen, then that was what he would do. He would stand between every transgenic and the world because some of them were just children still. And there were more babies on the way. They had the right to make even more babies if they wanted. No one had the right to hurt them or break them anymore. He'd already been hurt, so he could take whatever the world wanted to dish out.
Alec didn't think about any of this. He doesn't do or really understand self analysis. He's a creature of instinct. He doesn't really know that his soul is shattered and worn. He just knows what makes him feel better. But eventually, someone is going to have to help from the outside. Because he is broken, and without help, something is going to slide out of place because it has no anchor. Eventually something will grind away into nothing. Then not only will he be damaged, but something will be missing too. And that he does know. He just doesn't know what to do about it.
Alec. Alec is . . . intrinsically damaged. There is something deep down in the core of him that is broken. And it's so pervasive to him, to his personality, to his soul, to everything about him, that it's often hard to see at all. Because all you see is Alec, as you've always known him.
He's one of those people that always wears a smile. It's not that he's pasting it on. It really is genuine, because he doesn't know any other way to be. He's learned to live with the cracks, breaks, and damage, because that's all he's made up of. He was nearly born that way.
He's pretty sure the first one happened moments after his birth, when they took his brother away from him. Clone or twin, either way they spent nine months together; they should have stayed together. They weren't made to be alone. If they had, maybe things would have gone better. Maybe they would have jumped the wire together and Ben would have been all right out in the world, because he wasn't alone. Maybe Alec wouldn't have latched onto Rachel the way he did when he met her.
Not that he regrets it; he loved her, loves her still, but something else was broken when he met her, and then shattered when she was taken from him. She was a double whammy. He fell in love with her, and it turned so much of what Manticore taught, told him, into a lie. Broken the very foundation he had lived on for his entire life. It was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. At least, the worst thing that he could put a finger on. And then she'd started to heal the damage. A little bit here, smoothing over a crack there. There were still gaping wounds, but healing had begun, and the new form of him wasn't like the old. He felt better. He felt at all. On a deep level. He felt like maybe he had a soul.
Then they took her away, and everything that she had repaired was shattered, but still there. So now he had feelings, a heart and soul, and those were hauled in to Manticore for reconditioning. So he did the only sane thing he could do. He let it all callus over, let it grow hard. As close to where he had been before as he could get. He was already broken twelve ways from Sunday, what would one more matter?
Then Manticore went down. And his world was taken out from under him again. No purpose, no safety. No quiet eight by twelve cell at night that was so boring it was restful. No one telling him what was right and what was wrong. Even if he knew they were full of shit, he could still use it. He'd made choices for himself and all it did was hurt. Sometimes in the night, he'd dream of Rachel or a face just like his own that sometimes he hated and sometimes he loved, or the open sky and no fence, and he could feel the broken pieces that made up his whole shift and grind together. The edges sanding down and smoothing out so they didn't cut so badly. They would never fit together again. The grooves, niches, and joints that would have formed a seamless whole with the right kind of glue had worn away over time. He had never known differently though; he had always been broken, so he knew how to settle for the immediate cessation of pain.
Manticore tore itself apart and he was out on his own. He would learn to deal with having to make his own choices. Eventually the broken pieces would jostle and arrange themselves in a way he could live with. His feelings were callused over enough that he didn't give a fuck about much of anyone else.
Except in the end that wasn't true. The other escapees were all discovering that they had souls and minds of their own. And they were all damaged, but not like him. He had extra torture. He knew that. It wasn't self pity; it was fact. No one else had been in Psy-Ops as many times and not been put down for parts. There were some people that broke his record, but he didn't know them yet.
It took some time, but the pieces of himself shifted again and everything that was good started to sift to the surface. Colliding with all the training he'd ever gotten about being a leader. And he had had a good amount of training. Lydecker had always believed that he was one of the best, even if he was damaged. He found himself at the front of Terminal City. He had been drifting towards some sort of leadership role for a while. He knew he had the ability to command, to get people moving, to get things done. But when it all fell into place for him, it had nothing to do with him being in control.
He was being held at gun point. By Mole, but still. It all snapped into place over Gem, who was having a baby. Right then and there. And all of the broken, sliding, grinding pieces that made up Alec told him one thing. That baby was not going to break. That baby was going to be born with a body and soul, undamaged. That baby was going to have a mother that loved it, and people to look after it. No one was going to hold it under water until it drowned, just to see if it could hold its breath for seven minutes. No one was going to shoot it, burn it, break its bones, damage its organs, or any other number of vile things just to see if it could heal or chart how long it would take. No one was going to tell it to kill someone to protect a stupid secret. No one was going to give it a gun instead of a stuffed toy. No one was going to hurt that baby the way he had been hurt. The way they all had.
If he had to stand between Gem and the rest of the world to see that happen, then that was what he would do. He would stand between every transgenic and the world because some of them were just children still. And there were more babies on the way. They had the right to make even more babies if they wanted. No one had the right to hurt them or break them anymore. He'd already been hurt, so he could take whatever the world wanted to dish out.
Alec didn't think about any of this. He doesn't do or really understand self analysis. He's a creature of instinct. He doesn't really know that his soul is shattered and worn. He just knows what makes him feel better. But eventually, someone is going to have to help from the outside. Because he is broken, and without help, something is going to slide out of place because it has no anchor. Eventually something will grind away into nothing. Then not only will he be damaged, but something will be missing too. And that he does know. He just doesn't know what to do about it.