Dejah Thoris (
dejah_thoris) wrote2015-06-09 05:49 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Entry tags:
Prodigal
After a long day in the forge, and a long night of pacing the corridors of the bar looking for Curtis, Dejah had come back to her rooms and tried to work on the prostheses. She'd made significant progress, building the initial layer of isolates and imprinting the neurological signature she'd recorded the very first day onto the layer itself. It took an incredible amount of focus and when she was done, she lay her tools on her work bench. Bleary-eyed and exhausted, she made her way to the bed.
She didn't wake for many hours. Not even the recurring image of Curtis's shy smile melting into the leering grin of Matai Chang could manage to stir her from sleep. It was late in the day when she rolled over and peered at the window. The sun was going down. Or was it coming up? She couldn't tell.
She didn't wake for many hours. Not even the recurring image of Curtis's shy smile melting into the leering grin of Matai Chang could manage to stir her from sleep. It was late in the day when she rolled over and peered at the window. The sun was going down. Or was it coming up? She couldn't tell.
no subject
"Curtis. When I say I want to go slow, I mean -- I want to build something between us. I do not wish to be an escape for you. A refuge, yes. A place of sanctuary. But not a blind hole you can crawl into. I think you may not realize -- but I need you, too."
no subject
(Isn't that what any relationship is supposed to be? An escape? Maybe -- well, she says sanctuary, refuge, and he can wrap his head around those concepts. They're only a step or two removed from an escape; Curtis can make the leap, and shape his expectations accordingly.)
And then she says the rest, and he can't stop himself from asking: "Why?"
no subject
"Because without you, I am alone. Can't you see?"
no subject
But you're Front, he thinks. And she's not like Wilford sitting alone in the engine, never venturing out to the rest of his creation. She's talked so much about reaching out to her people. Helping them. Fighting alongside them. Shit, one of her friends even threatened to kill Curtis if he hurt her.
How can he matter so much? How can she be alone?
no subject
"Have I asked too much?"
no subject
He doesn't understand. The little he can grasp, right at its edges, makes his voice turn lower, more gentle.
"You've got to have other people. Don't you?"
no subject
"Not really. Not like this. I sleep alone. I wake alone. I have a few friends, my father... But when the servants retire for the evening, I am left to my own devices. I do my research, I work on the Project. Or here, I work on your arm or I do biological surveys of the lake..." Her voice tapers off at the end, and her hand slips down to fiddle with the collar of his shirt again.
no subject
He thinks of that moment; he thinks of Edgar, and Tanya, and even Gilliam.
Very soft, very clear, he hears a stray thought: I have something the Front doesn't. I have something they can't take.
If he were facing anyone but Dejah, he'd feel a hell of a lot more vindicated by that thought. Instead, he simply leans in again, tightening his embrace.
no subject
"It's a bit pathetic, isn't it?" She laughs at herself, but her hands still try to pull him closer.
no subject
"Nah," he says. "Surprising. Not pathetic."
no subject
"You say you don't know how to act around me. I feel the same way about you. I don't know what I'm supposed to do or say."
no subject
(She's taking so much care with him. Even now, he's a little baffled by it.)
"Because of the train, or what?" he asks.
no subject
"My memory is -- do you know what 'eidetic' means?"
no subject
"No," he says. "I don't remember."
no subject
She chews her lip, fingertips idly fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.
"I don't want you to think I look at you and see him. I don't. When I say you remind me of him, it's -- something more. It's like hearing a familiar melody in the middle of an entirely different song."
no subject
"Feels like it's a hell of a lot to live up to sometimes," he says at last, quiet.
no subject
"Believe me when I tell you, you already have, in your own way. I would not be here with you if you had not already done so."
no subject
The doubts stay coiled in the back of his mind: quiet, for now, but lingering nonetheless. It's the same old shit he feels when he looks around her room and sees all the stuff she owns. Voicing it won't get them anywhere.
no subject
"And then there's train. I never want you to think I believe I'm above you somehow. Different, yes. But never, never better. And if I say something that makes you feel that way, I want you to call me on that shit."
no subject
And then snorts an equally tiny laugh at her words, in spite of himself. (That's not how he expected her to phrase the sentiment.) Composing himself, returning to the gravity of what she's saying, Curtis nods.
"There's some..." He pauses, trying to figure out how to say it. As he does, he winds his fingers through Dejah's hair. "It's not always in things you say. It's stuff I know you can't help. Like -- how you dress most of the time, and what you've got in here..."
He sighs.
"I still gotta figure some of my own shit out. I forget I'm off the train, you know?"
no subject
Her eyelids flutter at the caress, and it's clear, he's having an effect on her, but she's focusing on his words.
"I do. One of the things I love about this place... It lets me put down a lot of what I carry in Helium. I love Helium, but sometimes, I forget I need to rest."
She takes a breath, a soft, contented smile on her face. "Do you want me to remind you? I mean, if you want to talk about it. Or -- something..."
Again, she falters, grinning despite herself.
no subject
"Reminders might be good." Soft. "If I take it too far. I don't want to get pissed off too much at things that're...I don't know."
He doesn't want to say normal. The train was normal for Curtis. What came before, the parts that've come after -- that's the anomaly.
"I guess just what I said before. Things you can't help."
no subject
"I understand. You're not angry at me. But you are angry, about what happened. To you. To your people. Sweet Issus, do I understand that -- helpless feeling, and the rage it brings."
The answer was right in front of her face, for so many decades. They were sabotaging her work, and she can't help but feel, if she'd only been smarter. Quicker. If she'd known then, what she knows now, then she could have saved so many people. She understands better than he knows.
"It all right to be angry, so long as you don't let it consume you."
no subject
"It's kinda hard to keep it back sometimes," he says. "Just looking around, seeing the shit people take for granted here." His smile goes crooked. "Thank God for the gym, huh?"
(And occasional brawls with Dejah's friends. Er.)
no subject
"Yes, the gym. And now the forge perhaps?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)