"Did you ever think that maybe there was a reason for why I've said those--" And, in the mirrors, Garrus cut himself off, just as surprised as his reflection by what was in B-Floor hall. However, instead of the rage his reflection felt, something like relief took over in him. Maybe now... this could end. And no one else would get hurt because of what he'd done
( ... )
aslkfjas;lf I THOUGHT IT WAS GARRUS' TAG SORRY I FAILscrewattackJune 9 2009, 07:34:21 UTC
Samus' reflection flinched away from Lyle as he reached over toward her. It wasn't because she was worried about the promised pain, but rather, because she didn't want anyone tending to her. Especially him. She didn't want him touching her at all. She wanted him to run away, to someplace where Samus, and by extension, the part of her Samus' reflection represented, never had to see him again. Never had to talk to him, think about him.
"Don't," she said, backing away, approaching the mirror that Samus was still trapped in. "Let me go. You just saw what happened. If you want her back, let me go. Or destroy me. It doesn't matter which." She turned her head, looking up at the real Samus behind the glass, who had stopped pounding as the girl pressed herself up against it. The woman's eyes cast downward at the girl, the expression unreadable, even if the visor hadn't made her face unclear.
Numbly, Garrus caught the towel, the heat a blissful sensation against his aching hands. He dabbed at the scrape, cleaning dried blue blood off his shoulder--just a superficial scratch, it would be sore for a while, but the woman had received far worse.
He did look up sharply, pale eyes narrowing when she spoke. "No one's 'destroying' anyone," he said, probably more harshly than he'd intended. But after watching his own reflection destroy itself... he'd had enough of this for a while.
"I don't care what you are," he went on. "You saved my ass. So if you want to go, go on. But no one's going to take you out." His eyes flicked to Dylandy then, gauging his reaction.
When the reflection backed away, Lyle let the towels drop to the floor, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then let it out his nose. He was getting frustrated, but it would hardly do any good to show that.
When he opened his eyes he could see them both, the strange girl and the trapped woman she claimed (and had more or less proven) to be a part of. He felt a knot build in his stomach. He didn't want to destroy the girl. She had protected him as well. So if she insinuated there was another way...
"What does letting you go entail? Where would you go and how will that bring her back?"
Lyle returned Vakarian's gaze only briefly, keeping his face expressionless.
Samus' reflection shook her head. Her glowing silver-blue blood was streaking down the surface of the mirror she was pressed up against, complimenting the glowing green lines of the suit that Samus still wore behind her. "By let me go, I mean let me die of my injuries," she repeated. "I don't belong in this world. I never intended to stay longer than I had to. If I die, I'll go back there, and she'll come back here
( ... )
Whether or not the other man was giving voice to it, his frustration was apparent. Not that Garrus blamed him. If this was how he acted around others, he needed to shape up, and quickly. Moving his eyes back to the woman, he squared his shoulders, drawing himself up. Nowhere near as threatening looking as his reflection, but he still had a formidable height.
"No," he said, working to keep his voice even. "Either we patch you up and then you go back, or you turn around right now, and hop back into that mirror." After all... they came out, why couldn't they go back in again?
Another glance at Dylandy. This was ridiculous. An entire gambit to screw with his head? Maybe these damn things were all alike after all.
While the other man probably wouldn't appreciate it, Garrus moved a pace closer to him. A show of support, nothing more, and nothing less. I didn't ask to be Vakarian's fucking son figure... Well... So help him, it was hard to shake
( ... )
Lyle raised a brow at Vakarian's ultimatum. Oh, he had seen a reflection go back in. Neil's had, after all. But still... it might be individualized. How different, how vulnerable, how exposed this reflection was might have an effect on whether or not she had the power to go back. And, even if it didn't, he doubted she would give into ultimatums, of all things. Too stubborn.
While the effort at support was acknowledged, and the attempt at help appreciated... Lyle paused as a touch of the bizarre made him blink.
"Kid? I'm fucking twenty-nine years old, Vakarian
( ... )
The girl cocked her head to the side, although it drooped just a little further than she probably intended, her fatigue becoming evident, as she watched the strange exchange between the human and the turian. Vakarian was going to stick to his guns and refuse to harm her. She knew this. She wouldn't argue with him. He wasn't the one she was intending to influence, either way
( ... )
It was not the time or the place for it, but the admission threw him for such a loop, that he just had to say something.
"You're what?No more than that. It was all he'd say, and all that needed to be said for right now. There was a more pressing problem. He had a very strong urge to just pick up the reflection, and toss it into the nearest mirror. Hell, that was how she'd gotten out in the first place. And that would solve everything nicely
( ... )
Indecision, that feeling of not being able to do anything and call it right had been eating at him. His reflection frizzed and crackled, looking no better than TV snow and it was starting to affect him physically in this plane. Just fuzzing at the sides, feeling like little electric ant bites all around his edges. It hurt, but it was hardly noticeable compared to the scene before him
( ... )
Ordinarily, the reflection would have objected to Lyle touching her. But she knew his motivations. Knew he wouldn't try to help her, try to be gentle with her. In her weakened state, her inhuman eyes glanced over at Lyle, seeming to look grateful as he put that first gentle hand on her head. As if some part of her, some part of Samus herself, wanted to absolve him of his guilt, assure him he was doing the right thing
( ... )
It wasn't the outcome he'd been hoping for. The damn thing had won, in the end. But in a way, they all had. His had plastered his secrets everywhere, without discretion for who it spoke to, and attacked those close to him. It had shaken any faith the others would have had in him, and done so easily. But that was personal. He could deal with personal. It, at least, hadn't tried to get into anyone else's head but his
( ... )
Somewhere along the line, he could not remember when, Lyle had pulled his helmet off. This was helpful since not only did it make it easier to breathe, it made it possible for him to rest his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror until the wave of nausea that had threatened to overtake him passed. Once he felt more stable, Lyle pushed away from the glass and slowly stood, looking at the other two.
Real. They were real, unlike the rest of the company he had been keeping in the hall. He ran that thought through his head like a mantra in an effort to drown out the mental instant replay of that sickening crack. Eventually, something like calm washed over him (though, chances were that it was as much numbness and exhaustion as anything).
When Garrus asked his question, Lyle was jarred from his blank staring and blinked. Future tense. Would he be alright? Well, yeah... eventually. Lyle simply nodded before looking over at Samus to see what her answer to the general question was
( ... )
Samus heard Garrus' question, but she ignored it for the time being. Really, she seemed to be ignoring the turian himself, which wasn't intentionally. Once she got confirmation that Lyle wasn't about to have an emotional breakdown, she'd acknowledge Garrus and make sure that he also wasn't on the verge of emotional collapse. And really, she couldn't answer the question for herself until she knew how everyone else was faring. Her physical and mental wellbeing would always be secondary in her mind, after all
( ... )
His jaw worked, no sound coming out. No words. He stayed where he was in the hall, a good distance away, still holding the damp cloth to the scrape on his shoulder. He turned to go. He was interrupting, wasn't he? What could he possibly do? And there was his own mess to clean up. No one was going to do it for him.
She had sat next to him, maintaining contact; aligning her thigh next to his, slipping her arm around his back and gripping his shoulder hard with her hand...
Well... not anymore, thanks to his damn reflection. And this place. He didn't know how he was even going to start fixing all those bridges, as the saying went. But... he had to try.
He did stop when Aran spoke up. But didn't look back. He knew what he'd see. "All right," he said, cutting himself off before things got too ridiculously melodramatic in his head. "I'll... be around. You know... where."
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"Don't," she said, backing away, approaching the mirror that Samus was still trapped in. "Let me go. You just saw what happened. If you want her back, let me go. Or destroy me. It doesn't matter which." She turned her head, looking up at the real Samus behind the glass, who had stopped pounding as the girl pressed herself up against it. The woman's eyes cast downward at the girl, the expression unreadable, even if the visor hadn't made her face unclear.
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He did look up sharply, pale eyes narrowing when she spoke. "No one's 'destroying' anyone," he said, probably more harshly than he'd intended. But after watching his own reflection destroy itself... he'd had enough of this for a while.
"I don't care what you are," he went on. "You saved my ass. So if you want to go, go on. But no one's going to take you out." His eyes flicked to Dylandy then, gauging his reaction.
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When he opened his eyes he could see them both, the strange girl and the trapped woman she claimed (and had more or less proven) to be a part of. He felt a knot build in his stomach. He didn't want to destroy the girl. She had protected him as well. So if she insinuated there was another way...
"What does letting you go entail? Where would you go and how will that bring her back?"
Lyle returned Vakarian's gaze only briefly, keeping his face expressionless.
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"No," he said, working to keep his voice even. "Either we patch you up and then you go back, or you turn around right now, and hop back into that mirror." After all... they came out, why couldn't they go back in again?
Another glance at Dylandy. This was ridiculous. An entire gambit to screw with his head? Maybe these damn things were all alike after all.
While the other man probably wouldn't appreciate it, Garrus moved a pace closer to him. A show of support, nothing more, and nothing less. I didn't ask to be Vakarian's fucking son figure... Well... So help him, it was hard to shake ( ... )
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While the effort at support was acknowledged, and the attempt at help appreciated... Lyle paused as a touch of the bizarre made him blink.
"Kid? I'm fucking twenty-nine years old, Vakarian ( ... )
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"You're what?No more than that. It was all he'd say, and all that needed to be said for right now. There was a more pressing problem. He had a very strong urge to just pick up the reflection, and toss it into the nearest mirror. Hell, that was how she'd gotten out in the first place. And that would solve everything nicely ( ... )
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Real. They were real, unlike the rest of the company he had been keeping in the hall. He ran that thought through his head like a mantra in an effort to drown out the mental instant replay of that sickening crack. Eventually, something like calm washed over him (though, chances were that it was as much numbness and exhaustion as anything).
When Garrus asked his question, Lyle was jarred from his blank staring and blinked. Future tense. Would he be alright? Well, yeah... eventually. Lyle simply nodded before looking over at Samus to see what her answer to the general question was ( ... )
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She had sat next to him, maintaining contact; aligning her thigh next to his, slipping her arm around his back and gripping his shoulder hard with her hand...
Well... not anymore, thanks to his damn reflection. And this place. He didn't know how he was even going to start fixing all those bridges, as the saying went. But... he had to try.
He did stop when Aran spoke up. But didn't look back. He knew what he'd see. "All right," he said, cutting himself off before things got too ridiculously melodramatic in his head. "I'll... be around. You know... where."
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