→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedproportionedApril 26 2011, 23:22:35 UTC
[ That dip of the couch right beside you, Arthur? That would be Ariadne. Small hands close around one of his and press a cold bottle of water into it without a word. ]
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedspecificsApril 26 2011, 23:36:11 UTC
[ Before she sits, Arthur knows it's Ariadne approaching - impossible to mistake her lighter steps for Eames', unless, he supposes, the listener is a remarkable idiot, but Arthur isn't despite his awareness of the dubiousness of his decisions regarding deals and guns. Then again, it's a skewed perspective, considering all of the other areas he won't cede even marginal compromise on, areas like Dominick Cobb and other glaring blindspots that don't require him to lose his physical sight.
But it's not an issue he figures will come up, in immediate comparison to their circumstances now shared, and when Ariadne hands him the bottle of water it's not hard for him to smile a little though he guesses she probably isn't. ] Thanks. [ This much he's fine with: unscrewing the cap, lifting it to his mouth without mishap. Within reason, he supposed finger foods would also be safe, as opposed to say soup or anything where he has to use a fork/other utensils that are Sharp and could prove Troublesome. These thoughts thin out in idle modes across
( ... )
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedproportionedApril 26 2011, 23:43:22 UTC
[ It's a bemusing suggestion, one that Ariadne lets come but then just as quickly lets go again like a roadsign to an attraction she's not headed towards, at least not in this conversation. ]
I'm not planning on it, [ she tells him instead, drawing her feet up onto the couch, her legs pulled in towards her chest, knees forming a rest she can lean her temple against as she looks at Arthur, watching the glazed stare of his eyes and wondering what it must be like to be in his shoes right now. Formerly dead, newly remade, but at a price, a cost, a flaw sewn into his systems. For a man who strove to operate at such a high standard she imagines it's infuriating and equally inescapable. It makes Ariadne irritated to think about -- equal parts the stupidity of the chain of events that set this off in the first place, as well as her sudden inability to much of anything other than simply be there with Arthur (something she imagined he didn't quite welcome, but which was non-negotiable in any case). ]
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedspecificsApril 27 2011, 00:00:45 UTC
[ This time he sighs, a new acquisition of expressions but he doesn't even know what expressions he's making half of the time, the entirety of his perception either magnified to a sharpness or overly done to that of something blown out and imprecise and irritating. It's not that he dislikes Ariadne, far from it, but perhaps Arthur hasn't got as smooth of a hold on his propriety as he usually does, though whether he would accredit this to the blindness, the death, or simply being here, well, that's debatable. Arthur himself really can't say. He just glances the direction he knows is away from Ariadne, because even the gesture helps him gather and order what more present thoughts need to be, a muscle memory that jogs the mental process he's accustomed to
( ... )
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedproportionedApril 27 2011, 00:23:09 UTC
[ If Ariadne had much concern on what it was people would rather she not do, then Fischer would still be scraping the bottom of limbo, languishing away on Cobb's back porch fifty stories up the side of a skyscraper. Cobb hadn't wanted her to push (or maybe he had, he just didn't realize it yet), but that hadn't dissuaded her, her particular brand of stubbornness an odd mix of self-aggrandizing and altruistic (you're doing it wrong, I'll tell you why; so sit down, shut up and grow). Where most people stow their empathy and compassion, Ariadne's got an inability to curb questions but she's already asked Arthur all of the big ones: Are you insane? What were you thinking? You do realize trades are off the table from now on, don't you?And where Ariadne would normally cede some level of knowing-better to Arthur, she can't help but think of first meetings. That afternoon in the warehouse, five minutes on the dial with Cobb, and a colonnade built from a set of mirrors and pure inspiration. She called his ability to see things clearly
( ... )
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedspecificsApril 27 2011, 00:37:23 UTC
[ This time the noise at the back of his throat is frustrated, outright and unabashed, or perhaps better to say, uncontrolled. He sits up straighter again, leans forward, hands clasping and head bowed like he can see them, stare at the way they don't have any answers but tangle interestingly enough to pretend at it. ]
Within reason. [ A breath moves through his shoulders even though this one isn't audible the way a sigh is. How does he say: this is going to drive me crazy a lot faster if you do stay. Not all of the time.
He doesn't know, so he holds his silence this time. ]
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedproportionedApril 27 2011, 02:08:25 UTC
[ Ariadne stares at Arthur the way she stares at an optical illusion -- highly aware that there is what she sees and then there is something else besides. Cobb had resisted her attention but Cobb had also been pliant in his own way, as there was part of him buried deep inside himself that had grown complacent in his own spiraling self-destruction.
Arthur, Ariadne knows, is much more diligent. She also knows that doing something simply for the sake of doing it isn't productive and that she and Arthur are near approaching a point of diminishing returns. Still, she saves her recalicitrance for the actual moment of, rather than pre-empting it. ]
You're impaired, [ she repeats. Which is all she really thinks she needs to say that she's acting within reason. ]
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedspecificsApril 27 2011, 02:17:01 UTC
Obviously. [ He replies and doesn't mean to be unkind but his patience is a thin thing, a rangy thing even right now, though mostly for his personal frustration and closer to none at all for Ariadne simply being what she is and who she is, all of which they owe success to - and there is another truth about Arthur, that he does not forget these kinds of things. Almost, he considers it a debt for what it did for the man he's given the most to and longed to see home even as much as he did not think it possible. ] You being here all of the time? It's not as helpful as you think.
[ Unspoken is: for me. Maybe she hears it anyway. Arthur isn't sure, but he wants his point to get across and softening it with it's me not you isn't particularly his style anyway. All the same, he feels apology well in his chest, a tightness and then words on the tip of his tongue that he bites for the very same reason. Ariadne doesn't have to like his stance, but insofar as they're going to be living together, she has to know now
( ... )
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedproportionedApril 27 2011, 02:29:09 UTC
Have you considered the possibility that this isn't all about you?
[ She hasn't expressed as much to either of them, but that doesn't make the statement any less true. Being here in this place that disobeyed all the rules of reality they'd set out for themselves had set them on a course of unpredictable trajectory and unseen destination. And although Ariadne didn't feel panicked, there was only so much left for them to hold onto. Especially for Ariadne whose totem was more a meditation than an actual grounding rod to the waking world; what she'd learned on the fourth level had already taught her to question the validity of it, knowing it could be manipulated as easily as paradoxical architecture
( ... )
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedspecificsApril 27 2011, 02:37:14 UTC
[ This time the sigh is yielding though perhaps not for the reason expected, as he turns at a quarter degree toward her, not enough for eyes to meet even if he could see, but a noted acknowledgment, a half-meet. ]
I have. Several times. Lots of times. But right now, what you're saying, is you're staying here because I'm 'impaired', and what I'm telling you is this: that I know that.
[ Arthur pauses, runs a hand through his hair, lacking the usual pomade so loosely curling under his ears and some falling into blank eyes. ] If you want to stay here, for you, because you don't want to go out, because --- anything, then fine.
That's for you.
As long as it's not because of something I did to myself.
[ And that's it really. Arthur can't accept more help than is absolutely necessary, it already grates on him to need any at all, to let Eames dress him, to know that Ariadne brings him water without asking because she probably has it under her knowledge base that he wouldn't ask her in the first place. He hates it, hasn't had anyone do
( ... )
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedproportionedApril 27 2011, 02:59:30 UTC
It's both, Arthur, [ Ariadne says, her voice sharpening with frustration. She doesn't understand how men as brilliant and inspired as Arthur and Cobb are simultaneously completely thick-headed when it comes to themselves, to the acceptance of things. It makes Ariadne want to take Arthur and shake him with both hands until all the bits of himself that don't make sense, that are contrary and unhelpful and as stubborn as she is, fall out onto the floor like so much loose change. But then, Ariadne reasons with herself, some things are evolution, not revolution.
Arthur, in her opinion, is doing neither. ]
My reaction? Is a consequence of your action. This is not something you handle by yourself, this is something we all have to deal with. And maybe handholding isn't going to get us there, but then we're going to have to meet somewhere in between. Alright?
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedspecificsApril 27 2011, 03:28:56 UTC
[ His brows lift. It's not that he doesn't expect this on some level, having witnessed Ariadne's stubbornness before, though Arthur peripherally surmises how little she would like to hear how sometimes she reminds him of Dom - before things were bad of course, but approaching it even if Arthur hadn't known it at the time. An unyielding force, an immovable object; take your pick, and it had been fine because it had worked, it had worked until it hadn't. Because the types of immovability are different, Arthur doesn't have trouble keeping the two separate; Dom was made even more impossible by his grief but Ariadne doesn't have that kind of baggage. It's a little easier to talk to her if only in that she does talk to him even if they're technically arguing.
He realizes, with the soft kind of near-regret of someone also too stubborn, that he doesn't like it. But he can't help what he thinks, at least not right now, thinks: I'm not asking you to stay. This isn't just about reaction; I've seen plenty of people pick up and leave when someone
( ... )
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedproportionedApril 27 2011, 04:13:44 UTC
[ To liken Ariadne to a bull in a chinashop is a natural reaction (an inevitability in fact, if ever someone's seen her in action). But this comparison isn't completely accurate in that said bulls never stop to reconsider their rampage, never entertain the possibility that all that bucking and ramming of heads starts to be counterproductive somewhere along the line. No, they either tire out, leave of their own volition, or have to be drug out forcibly by the horns. And Ariadne's not above collateral damage but that's mostly on the pretense that something else (something better) is built in its place.
Arthur's frankness is equal parts unsurprising and completely startling, so much so that all that follows at first is a stunned sort of silence as Ariadne stares at him, going so far as to lean closer to peer at Arthur's face, his unseeing eyes. As if somehow comprehension as to what is going on in there will come with enough hours of study and unwanted attention. It had worked with Cobb -- frighteningly easy to recognize, in fact
( ... )
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedspecificsApril 27 2011, 04:38:59 UTC
[ He does not quite flinch at the supposed compromise, though there may be the hint of it, if not for the reasons one might imagine. ]
I have acknowledged that.
[ But then, he figures their definitions of help might be different so he clarifies, again reassuming a controlled, careful tone. ] Clothing, food, all of that. I've already acknowledged.
[ A frown gets stifled, and his expression too he keeps to neutrality now, deciding this is the better rictus to maintain. Often enough in the past if Arthur pretended at composure then he could deceive even himself, until it became a habit, and then eventually, like a lot of habits, became the reality - unintentional and yet authentic in a way that made him foreign to anyone who might have known him.
Except no one really did so it didn't matter. Well, Eames did.
But Arthur had shut him out, which also seemed a necessity at the time.
He seems to be quite apt at closing doors. ]
Other than that, I don't want extra help. [ Instead of defensive or annoyed or exasperated as he's been,
( ... )
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedproportionedApril 27 2011, 13:17:39 UTC
[ Ariadne likes to think she knows the difference between lying to someone else and lying to one's self. Cobb's problem had been obvious because it had clearly been both, the deception almost baldfaced to Ariadne once Mal revealed herself in his hand. Arthur, however, Arthur's different; a little more insipid, perhaps, because it seems what's happening is so far down below the surface that Ariadne can't quite make the shape of it, the size. And maybe Arthur can't too. So less like icebergs concealing the full weight of the problem (that was Cobb, Cobb to a tee, right there) and more like undertow swirling beneath calm seas -- invisible until it's far too late and then you're gone, already pulled away below the surface of it. ]
You say you've already acknowledged it. And I keep saying compromise. Which means-- [ Apply some lateral thinking here, Arthur. ] --I think your definitions here are a little skewed.
→ ✘ i was a blindfold, never complainedspecificsApril 27 2011, 14:47:35 UTC
[ Hunched forward again as he is, Arthur raises his left hand to press index and center fingertips to just between his eyes, his brow quirked. ]
I think this is a compromise. I'm already letting both of you help me with different things. [ He pauses, willing some of the tension out of his shoulders, breathing it out like the adjustment of a posture. ] And, technically, everyone's definition is skewed. [ This addition is mild, wry even, a smile not quite grim but not too pleasant either sneaking its way into his expression, sightless eyes still bowed on his hands, or thereabouts. ]
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But it's not an issue he figures will come up, in immediate comparison to their circumstances now shared, and when Ariadne hands him the bottle of water it's not hard for him to smile a little though he guesses she probably isn't. ] Thanks. [ This much he's fine with: unscrewing the cap, lifting it to his mouth without mishap. Within reason, he supposed finger foods would also be safe, as opposed to say soup or anything where he has to use a fork/other utensils that are Sharp and could prove Troublesome. These thoughts thin out in idle modes across ( ... )
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I'm not planning on it, [ she tells him instead, drawing her feet up onto the couch, her legs pulled in towards her chest, knees forming a rest she can lean her temple against as she looks at Arthur, watching the glazed stare of his eyes and wondering what it must be like to be in his shoes right now. Formerly dead, newly remade, but at a price, a cost, a flaw sewn into his systems. For a man who strove to operate at such a high standard she imagines it's infuriating and equally inescapable. It makes Ariadne irritated to think about -- equal parts the stupidity of the chain of events that set this off in the first place, as well as her sudden inability to much of anything other than simply be there with Arthur (something she imagined he didn't quite welcome, but which was non-negotiable in any case). ]
I'll go when you can come with me.
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Within reason. [ A breath moves through his shoulders even though this one isn't audible the way a sigh is. How does he say: this is going to drive me crazy a lot faster if you do stay. Not all of the time.
He doesn't know, so he holds his silence this time. ]
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Arthur, Ariadne knows, is much more diligent. She also knows that doing something simply for the sake of doing it isn't productive and that she and Arthur are near approaching a point of diminishing returns. Still, she saves her recalicitrance for the actual moment of, rather than pre-empting it. ]
You're impaired, [ she repeats. Which is all she really thinks she needs to say that she's acting within reason. ]
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[ Unspoken is: for me. Maybe she hears it anyway. Arthur isn't sure, but he wants his point to get across and softening it with it's me not you isn't particularly his style anyway. All the same, he feels apology well in his chest, a tightness and then words on the tip of his tongue that he bites for the very same reason. Ariadne doesn't have to like his stance, but insofar as they're going to be living together, she has to know now ( ... )
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[ She hasn't expressed as much to either of them, but that doesn't make the statement any less true. Being here in this place that disobeyed all the rules of reality they'd set out for themselves had set them on a course of unpredictable trajectory and unseen destination. And although Ariadne didn't feel panicked, there was only so much left for them to hold onto. Especially for Ariadne whose totem was more a meditation than an actual grounding rod to the waking world; what she'd learned on the fourth level had already taught her to question the validity of it, knowing it could be manipulated as easily as paradoxical architecture ( ... )
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I have. Several times. Lots of times. But right now, what you're saying, is you're staying here because I'm 'impaired', and what I'm telling you is this: that I know that.
[ Arthur pauses, runs a hand through his hair, lacking the usual pomade so loosely curling under his ears and some falling into blank eyes. ] If you want to stay here, for you, because you don't want to go out, because --- anything, then fine.
That's for you.
As long as it's not because of something I did to myself.
[ And that's it really. Arthur can't accept more help than is absolutely necessary, it already grates on him to need any at all, to let Eames dress him, to know that Ariadne brings him water without asking because she probably has it under her knowledge base that he wouldn't ask her in the first place. He hates it, hasn't had anyone do ( ... )
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Arthur, in her opinion, is doing neither. ]
My reaction? Is a consequence of your action. This is not something you handle by yourself, this is something we all have to deal with. And maybe handholding isn't going to get us there, but then we're going to have to meet somewhere in between. Alright?
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He realizes, with the soft kind of near-regret of someone also too stubborn, that he doesn't like it. But he can't help what he thinks, at least not right now, thinks: I'm not asking you to stay. This isn't just about reaction; I've seen plenty of people pick up and leave when someone ( ... )
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Arthur's frankness is equal parts unsurprising and completely startling, so much so that all that follows at first is a stunned sort of silence as Ariadne stares at him, going so far as to lean closer to peer at Arthur's face, his unseeing eyes. As if somehow comprehension as to what is going on in there will come with enough hours of study and unwanted attention. It had worked with Cobb -- frighteningly easy to recognize, in fact ( ... )
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I have acknowledged that.
[ But then, he figures their definitions of help might be different so he clarifies, again reassuming a controlled, careful tone. ] Clothing, food, all of that. I've already acknowledged.
[ A frown gets stifled, and his expression too he keeps to neutrality now, deciding this is the better rictus to maintain. Often enough in the past if Arthur pretended at composure then he could deceive even himself, until it became a habit, and then eventually, like a lot of habits, became the reality - unintentional and yet authentic in a way that made him foreign to anyone who might have known him.
Except no one really did so it didn't matter. Well, Eames did.
But Arthur had shut him out, which also seemed a necessity at the time.
He seems to be quite apt at closing doors. ]
Other than that, I don't want extra help. [ Instead of defensive or annoyed or exasperated as he's been, ( ... )
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You say you've already acknowledged it. And I keep saying compromise. Which means-- [ Apply some lateral thinking here, Arthur. ] --I think your definitions here are a little skewed.
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I think this is a compromise. I'm already letting both of you help me with different things. [ He pauses, willing some of the tension out of his shoulders, breathing it out like the adjustment of a posture. ] And, technically, everyone's definition is skewed. [ This addition is mild, wry even, a smile not quite grim but not too pleasant either sneaking its way into his expression, sightless eyes still bowed on his hands, or thereabouts. ]
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