And what, precisely, would my little scholar ask in her boundless curiosity? If anyone has ever come to that point, I suppose? That would be a painful reminder, if anyone has ever seen a companion reduced to something that isn't them at all anymore.
I don't know yet. I am tempted to ask how many times people have died. It may come off as morbid but that's what throw away names are for. I might avoid asking that just to not really upset anyone. I admit I use how I look and how people choose to see me as a tool in the past but there's only so far you can go with that. Manipulation is something you have to take care with.
I don't think too many people would be accepting of the darker thoughts I have. I also can't talk about the skills I asked you to teach me. I mean not every cheerleader wants to know how to skin a man. Part of why I keep my throw away network handles.
Sweet Annie, you cannot go through life allowing the comfort of others to control what you do or say. Exactly what harm does a simple question inflict? And one none of us are obligated to give a reply, at that! No, if someone is truly so disturbed by a few words on their cogitator's screen, I'm afraid no amount of consideration will solve that problem for them.
Perhaps others will not be as accepting - but so what? Do you not find it tiring, dear one, to hide your true desires in the dark? Friendships with the narrow-minded do nothing but stifle, and it's quite freeing to discard them - take it from me!
I know my own traumas run deep. I can barely go two weeks between my own problems without something causing me to feel unsettled. I've lost track of how much sleep I have lost.
I don't really want someone to go through the same "funk" I fall into. It's the worst.
I can't say you're wrong. I get so frustrated that I want to scream sometimes. It feels like I'm constantly trying to figure out how many steps ahead I have to think. It sucks.
Now I have this mental image of you shoving some overly heroic over the top fop over the edge of some stairs or whatever. Because they monologued about how bad something was.
[ Her description reminds him of something—keenly enough that, suddenly, Lucius is racked with shoulder-shaking laughter. ]
So he did - and he was quite the hypocrite about it, too, decrying the very same things that made he and I what we are! More than just that, he tried to appeal to my sense of decency, even as the corpses of some thirty of our brothers lay between his feet and mine. Quite the fool, wouldn't you say? All that for a chance to kill me that came to nothing.
Oh, but perhaps I should take it upon myself to ask the question instead? Your curiosity will be satisfied, and you may keep your hands clean.
Seriously? Shaking my head at that. Like just accept who you are unnamed guy.
I should do the same though. You're not wrong. I just kept holding onto the part of me that's all sunshine. I just have to figure out how my interests mesh with who I've always acted like. It's a bit weird.
I always tried being nice and friendly, yet there's this pit of rage and I can't ignore the fact that sometimes after I've killed someone I feel relaxed. Like the tension has gone away.
It means you're a killer, Annie - as I am, and as Eridanus is. There is nothing wrong with that.
There's no reason you cannot be a friendly killer, either. Personally, I've always found that when one embraces their heart's desire, the counterfeit pieces of their person fall away on their own. Like a worm crawling from its cocoon as a butterfly, or perhaps a child losing their teeth - there is no need to rush something that will happen naturally with time. Freedom is as simple as pursuing what feels right and releasing what does not.
I didn't think I was a killer. I used to think I did what I needed to because I had no choice.
But I did have choices. I could have gone to the food pantries that were set up. I didn't though because I hated the idea of being weak. I wanted to be strong in the face of all the bad things that were done to me. If that made me into a murderer then so be it but at least I still have a voice and agency when it comes to who I kill.
I even have my own rules. Standards make us who we are.
I don't know what feels right anymore but at least I don't hurt so much.
Not to worry. You'll learn in time, and you've always been a quick study - haven't you, little scholar?
Of course, don't feel as though you have to waste the meager effort needed to answer that. It's evident enough in the way you already grasp something that's so difficult for others to see - or that others are so eager to turn a blind eye to, at the least. The galaxy is filled with an endless multitude of weak souls who will simply lie down and accept a death decided for them by another's hand. You could have been one of them - but, of course, your will is stronger than that. That is precisely what has set you apart from so many others, even now. You're no fainthearted coward, desperate to pretend every breath we draw is anything but what it is: a choice.
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<aeternus>
<a.dyer>
I don't think too many people would be accepting of the darker thoughts I have. I also can't talk about the skills I asked you to teach me. I mean not every cheerleader wants to know how to skin a man. Part of why I keep my throw away network handles.
<aeternus>
No, if someone is truly so disturbed by a few words on their cogitator's screen, I'm afraid no amount of consideration will solve that problem for them.
Perhaps others will not be as accepting - but so what? Do you not find it tiring, dear one, to hide your true desires in the dark?
Friendships with the narrow-minded do nothing but stifle, and it's quite freeing to discard them - take it from me!
<a.dyer>
I don't really want someone to go through the same "funk" I fall into. It's the worst.
I can't say you're wrong. I get so frustrated that I want to scream sometimes. It feels like I'm constantly trying to figure out how many steps ahead I have to think. It sucks.
Now I have this mental image of you shoving some overly heroic over the top fop over the edge of some stairs or whatever. Because they monologued about how bad something was.
Seriously. Don't monologue. Just do the thing.
<aeternus>
So he did - and he was quite the hypocrite about it, too, decrying the very same things that made he and I what we are! More than just that, he tried to appeal to my sense of decency, even as the corpses of some thirty of our brothers lay between his feet and mine.
Quite the fool, wouldn't you say? All that for a chance to kill me that came to nothing.
Oh, but perhaps I should take it upon myself to ask the question instead? Your curiosity will be satisfied, and you may keep your hands clean.
<a.dyer> cw: murder idealation
I should do the same though. You're not wrong. I just kept holding onto the part of me that's all sunshine. I just have to figure out how my interests mesh with who I've always acted like. It's a bit weird.
I always tried being nice and friendly, yet there's this pit of rage and I can't ignore the fact that sometimes after I've killed someone I feel relaxed. Like the tension has gone away.
I don't know what that means.
<aeternus>
There's no reason you cannot be a friendly killer, either. Personally, I've always found that when one embraces their heart's desire, the counterfeit pieces of their person fall away on their own. Like a worm crawling from its cocoon as a butterfly, or perhaps a child losing their teeth - there is no need to rush something that will happen naturally with time.
Freedom is as simple as pursuing what feels right and releasing what does not.
<a.dyer>
But I did have choices. I could have gone to the food pantries that were set up. I didn't though because I hated the idea of being weak. I wanted to be strong in the face of all the bad things that were done to me. If that made me into a murderer then so be it but at least I still have a voice and agency when it comes to who I kill.
I even have my own rules. Standards make us who we are.
I don't know what feels right anymore but at least I don't hurt so much.
<aeternus>
Of course, don't feel as though you have to waste the meager effort needed to answer that. It's evident enough in the way you already grasp something that's so difficult for others to see - or that others are so eager to turn a blind eye to, at the least.
The galaxy is filled with an endless multitude of weak souls who will simply lie down and accept a death decided for them by another's hand. You could have been one of them - but, of course, your will is stronger than that.
That is precisely what has set you apart from so many others, even now. You're no fainthearted coward, desperate to pretend every breath we draw is anything but what it is: a choice.