No, scratch that, she definitely just said 'shrug' out loud.
Oh well.
He continues to pet the edges of her hair as she talks, considering her words. At the beginning of all this, he hadn't thought of it in terms of 'building towards' anything, but eventually somewhere along the line he began to asses her capacities in terms of 'progress', gained or lost. ]
About three years, give or take? We were only a handful of realities away from home when we crashed on Earth--those who didn't die in the epiphany fire died on the dissection table. I was able to escape, but I had nowhere to go--just my ship. [ He draws one knee up, drumming the fingers of one hand against it pensively. The memories don't draw up pain like they used to, healed-over psychological scars. ] I was so angry, Vriska. Lost in my own pain. I spent most of that first year in prison, being tortured. Second year, I got out, but I hadn't really learned anything, and ended up making poor choices because I couldn't think for myself.
[ She doesn't need the details, though he suspects she'll ask for them. Those memories still hurt. ]
Third year, I stopped caring, went into space and tried to live under the radar. [ His tone is softly deprecating, as they both know he doesn't really do 'under the radar'. It wasn't all that healthy. He never did well in isolation. ] Eventually, I made friends. Actually lived, you know? I guess that was the healing I needed. That's when the CDC found me.
[ At no other point in his story would he have accepted the CDC's offer. He needed to be there, at that time, knowing what he did about himself and his options in life. Maybe they would have gotten him fresh-faced out of the Avengers, running from the accuser corps on Hala--but would he have been as effective? Doubtful. Just scared. ]
[ Vriska makes little adjustments to her body, pressing her head back against his shoulder just a bit more and shifting in increments tiny enough to make her feel just a little more comfortable tucked up against him. Other than that, she provides no interruptions to his story. She knew, at least, that he'd had Issues of some kind of with Earth; but hearing the whole story, or at least the bald, honest core of it, is another matter. It strikes her, as it's struck him in the past, just how alike their histories have been. Steeped in cultures that prize strength and races that see themselves as conquerers, species that as a whole despise weakness and yet produced the pair of them.
Stupid teenagers who hated their own pain and just wanted to be a little less alone, in the end.
She actually does not ask about his poor choices. At least, not now. Maybe another time. Instead, she simply says: ]
You, stupid choices? I don't think I have ever been so shocked in my life, or death. [ But her tone is wry, and the smile on her face a crooked and understanding one. But now that he's done talking she lifts her chin and looks away from him, this time directly up at the sky. ]
My friends and I used to mock the humans with this stupid joke. We'd talk about the "human disease called friendship" and things like that. I mean, we were messing around, and human friendships are pretty different from troll ones. But we were also definitely full of shit. Friendships were just as important to us. Making friends is kind of a big fucking deal. It can change a lot of things! Not just how you see yourself, but who you become.
[ She leans forward now with a long sigh out. ]
I get being angry, though. You go through enough shit and you stop knowing how not to be angry, I guess? That was what it felt like. I tried to play it off like I didn't care, but. [ Her shoulders lift in a jerky, guilty motion. ] You know how that kind of thing worked out for me. For both of us, I guess.
[ When she settles back against him again it's less tucked in this time, her arms folded across her lap and the egg box placed down next to her knee. ]
But the times the CDC got us couldn't have been more different! You were healing, but I was breaking. They know their shit about when to recruit. But hey, it worked out. At least for me.
no subject
No, scratch that, she definitely just said 'shrug' out loud.
Oh well.
He continues to pet the edges of her hair as she talks, considering her words. At the beginning of all this, he hadn't thought of it in terms of 'building towards' anything, but eventually somewhere along the line he began to asses her capacities in terms of 'progress', gained or lost. ]
About three years, give or take? We were only a handful of realities away from home when we crashed on Earth--those who didn't die in the epiphany fire died on the dissection table. I was able to escape, but I had nowhere to go--just my ship. [ He draws one knee up, drumming the fingers of one hand against it pensively. The memories don't draw up pain like they used to, healed-over psychological scars. ] I was so angry, Vriska. Lost in my own pain. I spent most of that first year in prison, being tortured. Second year, I got out, but I hadn't really learned anything, and ended up making poor choices because I couldn't think for myself.
[ She doesn't need the details, though he suspects she'll ask for them. Those memories still hurt. ]
Third year, I stopped caring, went into space and tried to live under the radar. [ His tone is softly deprecating, as they both know he doesn't really do 'under the radar'. It wasn't all that healthy. He never did well in isolation. ] Eventually, I made friends. Actually lived, you know? I guess that was the healing I needed. That's when the CDC found me.
[ At no other point in his story would he have accepted the CDC's offer. He needed to be there, at that time, knowing what he did about himself and his options in life. Maybe they would have gotten him fresh-faced out of the Avengers, running from the accuser corps on Hala--but would he have been as effective? Doubtful. Just scared. ]
no subject
Stupid teenagers who hated their own pain and just wanted to be a little less alone, in the end.
She actually does not ask about his poor choices. At least, not now. Maybe another time. Instead, she simply says: ]
You, stupid choices? I don't think I have ever been so shocked in my life, or death. [ But her tone is wry, and the smile on her face a crooked and understanding one. But now that he's done talking she lifts her chin and looks away from him, this time directly up at the sky. ]
My friends and I used to mock the humans with this stupid joke. We'd talk about the "human disease called friendship" and things like that. I mean, we were messing around, and human friendships are pretty different from troll ones. But we were also definitely full of shit. Friendships were just as important to us. Making friends is kind of a big fucking deal. It can change a lot of things! Not just how you see yourself, but who you become.
[ She leans forward now with a long sigh out. ]
I get being angry, though. You go through enough shit and you stop knowing how not to be angry, I guess? That was what it felt like. I tried to play it off like I didn't care, but. [ Her shoulders lift in a jerky, guilty motion. ] You know how that kind of thing worked out for me. For both of us, I guess.
[ When she settles back against him again it's less tucked in this time, her arms folded across her lap and the egg box placed down next to her knee. ]
But the times the CDC got us couldn't have been more different! You were healing, but I was breaking. They know their shit about when to recruit. But hey, it worked out. At least for me.