[ Now, just as the sky is starting to grow light, must be the worst time of day to knock on the door of his mind if she isn't so sure that he is awake. She thinks that among the hosts, there are only those pretending to sleep and others who have given up the act. So she comes, steady footsteps down an echoing hallway, the sense of speaking to something cloaked in darkness, self-assured but stripped of victory. ]
(You wanted to talk to me.)
[ Me, she says, rather than us. Nobility can so easily veer into egotism -- or perhaps they are one and the same. ]
[It's whip-sharp- both quick and certain, without any evidence of being clouded or dulled by sleep or confusion. The feeling of eyes turning towards her- even across distance, with acres of low scrub and dirt and layers and layers of thick fabric between them.]
( I have been cautioned that you are not soldiers, that you do not understand organization or rank or the chain of command. Is that true? )
[The question comes with hooks- he does not waste time with requests, instead digging in with fingers and claws, pulling open the pages of her mind with a straight forward and driven focus. Searching for the truth of the answer without hesitation.]
[ A weapon turned against the wielder. Misato had never considered how it might feel to have another trespass into her mind with such doggedness, and it is only the thought that others have weathered the same and come out alright, to all appearances, that keeps her steady. It's a point of pride that she won't give him the pleasure of seeing her flinch.
He will find whatever he sets out to find: that she is among the few who can claim to understand rank. Major Katsuragi. Even if such rank means nothing to her. Just a shiny badge, one more notch in her collar, when her own vendetta would overshadow any respect, feigned or otherwise, she might hold for her commanding officers. He will find wars fought, for her, behind giant screens, the frustration of never being able to strange her own enemies by her own two hands. He will find a man, hands obscured by white gloves and eyes hidden behind tinted glasses, her superior, the one who held her leash and betrayed her in ways she can't yet come to grips with. ]
(No. The others aren't soldiers, but I don't have that excuse.)
[If there is any comfort (and there is very little) it's that as he digs for this information, pushing aside anything unimportant to his search, there is no particular satisfaction in it. Even as clawing as he is when he finds the things he is searching for they are as if held at arm's length, like information read from a manila folder- if there were manila folders in his world. His reactions to the information he finds are equally open, without attempt to disguise the mental nod- a theory proven true, the slightest confusion of a war so unlike his own, the mild surprise as his mind untangles her rank, twisting it into a shape he finds more familiar. Higher than his own. Certainly she has no excuses.]
( You do not. And you would have approved an operation like the one you undertook last night? A fool's parade stumbling into the dark without structure? )
[The question is accompanied by the feeling of pulling, his thoughts extracting themselves from her own, the memories he had picked up left to fall into place again- nevertheless known by him now, experiences never again solely hers, a perspective she could never imagine was private. The grasping fingers are gone, but the hand they had been attached to hovers nearby, as if ready to strike again.]
[ Somehow the anticipation of another strike is worse than the intrusion in progress. Her imagination braces for something worse, when he had earlier pressed into her mind the possibility of punishment. As it were, the fear and pain of death may be worse than death itself. She draws in a breath, holding a pause as she feels her mind settling back into place. Same yet irrevocably changed. ]
(I would. We are already stumbling in the dark, and it's foolish to hope we can agree to a structure. I saw an opportunity, thin, improbable but not impossible, and I took it. It was a shot at being rid of our uncertainty and finding a direction.)
[ She doesn't say: any risk was worth taking when the alternative was walking backwards to one's certain demise. But the sense remains unspoken between them. It was desperation and the willingness to take irrationally high risks that has brought her thus far, and it is only this that she knows to turn to. ]
(You're angry cause I put myself and others at risk, but hiding under our covers would keep us no safer.)
[The fear is as open to him as what he is looking for, so once- not satisfied, again, nothing so visceral as that, it becomes relevant enough to warrant attention. Enough to interrupt a stream of thought- but he doesn't have to. More than one thought can inhabit a mind at a time. And so more than one exchange-]
(I have been told it would be unfair of me- as if there is any fairness in life. But punishment is not a strike in the dark, it is to be known before and understood. Without that it is just violence- random and ineffectual. ) [the knowledge- punishment in not off the table.
Concurrently, woven within-] ( Idiotic. We are not stumbling, we are taking measured steps. You agree on structure or you do not lead. If you cannot guarantee the behavior of your troops you do not begin a group operation, you forge out alone. At least then you draw less attention- At least then if you are caught it is alone, and perhaps you are clever enough to find a way to kill yourself before the knowledge of others is torn from you. )
[Simultaneously as well- beginning to overwhelm-]
( It is not about hiding. It is about striking out with both intent and concrete goals. If you pretend you were not simply lashing out blindly because of fear then you should have the ability to act with both. ) [Doubt- doubt doubt doubt, drowning, he believes this is exactly what she was doing-] (You are not a hungry beast that must fight or flight, instinctually chasing down the scent of blood.)
[Knowledge- pressed into her mind like petals of a flower within waxy pages of a book- This feeling is the enemy, or so they think (they, him, his) - always met with either an increase or decrease in enemy activity, and as such an increase or decrease in danger. There was no way yet to know, but to run into it and reveal their knowledge of it-]
(We have given you a goal to pursue which does not require reckless action to complete, not so early in a game, yet you moved so many pieces and left your king bare, [strategically too risky for the benefit within the first couple of turns- so many were left, and so many pieces remained] and you did so tugging the rest along. )
[Last- without digging, or first, perhaps? The thoughts do intertwine-]
[ She thinks of SEELE. Men or something resembling men cloaked in darkness. Many voices. Herself standing in the spotlight. The sense that she isn't here to be heard as much as to speak and be satisfied with having spoken. Terror is a constant thrum in the background, crests and troughs of the same. In the imposed silence of the tent, she sits holding her father's cross, the sharp edges against her palm are familiar, the pain a consolation.
Only when his onslaught ceases does she begin to parse through his words, answering the one question she manages to catch: ]
(We found that the enemy made its move and where it happened. It's not nearly enough to go on. But I have a feeling--) [ That feeling he insists upon her mind, the gauge of their enemy's activity. ] (I have a feeling they're just preparing. Setting their pieces in place. It's only going to get worse.)
[ Misato, the tactician, doesn't play chess. Misato, who banks the fate of the world on 0.00001% chances of survival, has never won the lottery. Misato, who makes overtures about making one's own fate, believes in a higher reason for her being here when the rest of humanity is gone, that just as she must continue raising the stakes as the risk rises, he must rebuke her because it is his role. So for all her fear of the punishment, she takes no offense to his harsh reprimand, her own mind is a clear metal surface, placid, cool to the touch.
Her next words carry the burden of an idea long considered. ]
(Siva'co, give me a cyanide pill.) [ She shows him not the form, but the idea of it, a kill switch, an easy button to do away with relying on cleverness if the time comes. ] (Then I can go on my own, as you say, and the risk will be all mine.)
[The fear warrants some extra study, extra attention,turned over under his palm. It is so misplaced,the root of it dug into something of a comparison too foreign. Shadow voices do not know the set of Collector's hands in their own, a strange game she has learned played without pieces. Either he has too few fingers or she has too many, and the wry amusement of it sits warm between them. He discards it.]
( "Made its move?" )
[Clearly dissatisfied. The benefit gained from the potentially costly excursion was as low as he had feared it would be. As for her request-]
( No. ) [Clear the moment the suggestion us fully understood. Clear. Not sharp but certain. Would you enjoy that added danger,Misato?]
( You are a soldier, not a spy. I will not aid you in your refusal to learn. You will act with forethought and if you fail to do so you will have no easy way out. )
[The following thought clear,even without words. Prince and Cathaway have spoiled these hosts likke they wouild spoil children, too permissive and too lax. Ineffectual. How would they survive? Years and years and he still hasn't found any secret wisdom in it. You did not question your superiors, but they insisted that they weren't.]
( The rest of you cadre [a borrowed word, ill fit in his mind] behaved with as much careless. Does none of you know who it is you will follow? )
[ It's like a plane being tilted, and it only takes her letting go, allowing herself to follow the decline to return to a place where his dissatisfaction is enough to prompt her to uproot the very core of her, to discard it and change. Whatever it takes to suit this person he wants her to be. To be good. It remains so tempting, this idea that she can contort herself to become someone he favors, with all the pleasant feelings that go along with the promise of acceptance.
And yet-- ]
(I'm a soldier asked to do a spy's work. You don't have to like me to help me, but I'll be of more use if you do, and less risk.)
[ She is bargaining still, no matter how clear his answer was. Her forethought is being questioned, which is fair, and her intelligence, also understandable, but she is confident that her loyalty is never in question. ]
[The possibility of this line of thought continuing seems slim at best, a door shut, mild irritation at being asked again, the added difficulty her request represents only compounding his refusal to grant her such a crutch.
The rest continues- her question met with a swirl of confusion. Does she need to ask him?]
( Whoever is best suited to the task.)
[In words it would almost seem like a test, some kind of a riddle to be solved. In his mind it is intertwined with the open and clear understanding- who they followed when. Rhan, when an understanding of such subterfuge was necessary, him, when strategic blows were to be struck, Collector, when an understanding of a thing was key, Lyr- and so on, surely she could understand. Each had their own strengths that the others knew. Why question them? Their combined effectiveness was drawn from that breadth of experience and expertise. What mattered was the absolute lack of confusion about whose lead they followed at any particular time.]
(I see no reason that it could not be you, or any of you with suitable enough temperaments.)
[ Misato ends the pursuit when he closes the door, knowing when to desist and wait, and when to strike again. Still her persistence is palpable, a handshake offered and held aloft no matter how long he spurns her. Another time, then.
It is his answer that prompts her to shift her stance, a hesitant step back. She expects him to name Rhan or himself, maybe the quiet one, Lyr, or the silent one, Collector, a certain superior whom she has wronged in her bull-headed approach to facing threats. It would be simpler. If this is a case of her overstepping the ranks then it's a matter of telling her who to report to. But this symbiote is no army, no cadre of spies, not even a family. It is a many-headed dragon, and she is but a limb as is he. The idea makes her shudder, cold hands around the base of her neck. ]
(Prince said something similar to me, about all this, but he wasn't as punitive, because we got what we wanted from the Shril in the end. Here, it hasn't worked out, and maybe it wouldn't ever.)
[ An admission of her mistakes and her difficulty in learning from them, when change implies a loosening of her grip on what constitutes as her self. When the tools of her survival are the same weapons that prompts her to place her life at stake at every turn. ]
[The comparison is met with a feeling of- something, but it is veiled. Unusual for the span of this conversation, but while he could speak out against some of their choices, some habits were harder to kick.]
( Then decide. The four of us cannot constantly monitor all of you.)
[An understanding- a chain. Make decisions consciously, and then inform their superiors- them. Stand by those choices and take responsibility for them.
[ She thinks of herself less as an object, a substance, and more as a force. Something not to be molded or carved to fit, but rather something to be redirected. She will be what she is, but her path may yet change. She won't contort herself to fit the expectations of those around her, but if survival requires change then that is what she will do, for good or for ill. Then, the decision: ]
(I will become what I need to be.)
[ His answer feels like an ending, and she doesn't bother with goodbyes and good nights when she steps back and away from his audience, the sense of a bow or a salute, before she walks out of the room. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
SIVA'CO | DAY :010
( You wanted to talk to me. )
[ Me, she says, rather than us. Nobility can so easily veer into egotism -- or perhaps they are one and the same. ]
no subject
[It's whip-sharp- both quick and certain, without any evidence of being clouded or dulled by sleep or confusion. The feeling of eyes turning towards her- even across distance, with acres of low scrub and dirt and layers and layers of thick fabric between them.]
( I have been cautioned that you are not soldiers, that you do not understand organization or rank or the chain of command. Is that true? )
[The question comes with hooks- he does not waste time with requests, instead digging in with fingers and claws, pulling open the pages of her mind with a straight forward and driven focus. Searching for the truth of the answer without hesitation.]
no subject
He will find whatever he sets out to find: that she is among the few who can claim to understand rank. Major Katsuragi. Even if such rank means nothing to her. Just a shiny badge, one more notch in her collar, when her own vendetta would overshadow any respect, feigned or otherwise, she might hold for her commanding officers. He will find wars fought, for her, behind giant screens, the frustration of never being able to strange her own enemies by her own two hands. He will find a man, hands obscured by white gloves and eyes hidden behind tinted glasses, her superior, the one who held her leash and betrayed her in ways she can't yet come to grips with. ]
( No. The others aren't soldiers, but I don't have that excuse. )
no subject
( You do not. And you would have approved an operation like the one you undertook last night? A fool's parade stumbling into the dark without structure? )
[The question is accompanied by the feeling of pulling, his thoughts extracting themselves from her own, the memories he had picked up left to fall into place again- nevertheless known by him now, experiences never again solely hers, a perspective she could never imagine was private. The grasping fingers are gone, but the hand they had been attached to hovers nearby, as if ready to strike again.]
no subject
( I would. We are already stumbling in the dark, and it's foolish to hope we can agree to a structure. I saw an opportunity, thin, improbable but not impossible, and I took it. It was a shot at being rid of our uncertainty and finding a direction. )
[ She doesn't say: any risk was worth taking when the alternative was walking backwards to one's certain demise. But the sense remains unspoken between them. It was desperation and the willingness to take irrationally high risks that has brought her thus far, and it is only this that she knows to turn to. ]
( You're angry cause I put myself and others at risk, but hiding under our covers would keep us no safer. )
no subject
(I have been told it would be unfair of me- as if there is any fairness in life. But punishment is not a strike in the dark, it is to be known before and understood. Without that it is just violence- random and ineffectual. ) [the knowledge- punishment in not off the table.
Concurrently, woven within-] ( Idiotic. We are not stumbling, we are taking measured steps. You agree on structure or you do not lead. If you cannot guarantee the behavior of your troops you do not begin a group operation, you forge out alone. At least then you draw less attention- At least then if you are caught it is alone, and perhaps you are clever enough to find a way to kill yourself before the knowledge of others is torn from you. )
[Simultaneously as well- beginning to overwhelm-]
( It is not about hiding. It is about striking out with both intent and concrete goals. If you pretend you were not simply lashing out blindly because of fear then you should have the ability to act with both. ) [Doubt- doubt doubt doubt, drowning, he believes this is exactly what she was doing-] (You are not a hungry beast that must fight or flight, instinctually chasing down the scent of blood.)
[Knowledge- pressed into her mind like petals of a flower within waxy pages of a book- This feeling is the enemy, or so they think (they, him, his) - always met with either an increase or decrease in enemy activity, and as such an increase or decrease in danger. There was no way yet to know, but to run into it and reveal their knowledge of it-]
(We have given you a goal to pursue which does not require reckless action to complete, not so early in a game, yet you moved so many pieces and left your king bare, [strategically too risky for the benefit within the first couple of turns- so many were left, and so many pieces remained] and you did so tugging the rest along. )
[Last- without digging, or first, perhaps? The thoughts do intertwine-]
(What did you find?)
no subject
Only when his onslaught ceases does she begin to parse through his words, answering the one question she manages to catch: ]
( We found that the enemy made its move and where it happened. It's not nearly enough to go on. But I have a feeling-- ) [ That feeling he insists upon her mind, the gauge of their enemy's activity. ] ( I have a feeling they're just preparing. Setting their pieces in place. It's only going to get worse. )
[ Misato, the tactician, doesn't play chess. Misato, who banks the fate of the world on 0.00001% chances of survival, has never won the lottery. Misato, who makes overtures about making one's own fate, believes in a higher reason for her being here when the rest of humanity is gone, that just as she must continue raising the stakes as the risk rises, he must rebuke her because it is his role. So for all her fear of the punishment, she takes no offense to his harsh reprimand, her own mind is a clear metal surface, placid, cool to the touch.
Her next words carry the burden of an idea long considered. ]
( Siva'co, give me a cyanide pill. ) [ She shows him not the form, but the idea of it, a kill switch, an easy button to do away with relying on cleverness if the time comes. ] ( Then I can go on my own, as you say, and the risk will be all mine. )
no subject
( "Made its move?" )
[Clearly dissatisfied. The benefit gained from the potentially costly excursion was as low as he had feared it would be. As for her request-]
( No. ) [Clear the moment the suggestion us fully understood. Clear. Not sharp but certain. Would you enjoy that added danger,Misato?]
( You are a soldier, not a spy. I will not aid you in your refusal to learn. You will act with forethought and if you fail to do so you will have no easy way out. )
[The following thought clear,even without words. Prince and Cathaway have spoiled these hosts likke they wouild spoil children, too permissive and too lax. Ineffectual. How would they survive? Years and years and he still hasn't found any secret wisdom in it. You did not question your superiors, but they insisted that they weren't.]
( The rest of you cadre [a borrowed word, ill fit in his mind] behaved with as much careless. Does none of you know who it is you will follow? )
no subject
And yet-- ]
( I'm a soldier asked to do a spy's work. You don't have to like me to help me, but I'll be of more use if you do, and less risk. )
[ She is bargaining still, no matter how clear his answer was. Her forethought is being questioned, which is fair, and her intelligence, also understandable, but she is confident that her loyalty is never in question. ]
( Who would you have us follow? )
no subject
[The possibility of this line of thought continuing seems slim at best, a door shut, mild irritation at being asked again, the added difficulty her request represents only compounding his refusal to grant her such a crutch.
The rest continues- her question met with a swirl of confusion. Does she need to ask him?]
( Whoever is best suited to the task.)
[In words it would almost seem like a test, some kind of a riddle to be solved. In his mind it is intertwined with the open and clear understanding- who they followed when. Rhan, when an understanding of such subterfuge was necessary, him, when strategic blows were to be struck, Collector, when an understanding of a thing was key, Lyr- and so on, surely she could understand. Each had their own strengths that the others knew. Why question them? Their combined effectiveness was drawn from that breadth of experience and expertise. What mattered was the absolute lack of confusion about whose lead they followed at any particular time.]
(I see no reason that it could not be you, or any of you with suitable enough temperaments.)
no subject
It is his answer that prompts her to shift her stance, a hesitant step back. She expects him to name Rhan or himself, maybe the quiet one, Lyr, or the silent one, Collector, a certain superior whom she has wronged in her bull-headed approach to facing threats. It would be simpler. If this is a case of her overstepping the ranks then it's a matter of telling her who to report to. But this symbiote is no army, no cadre of spies, not even a family. It is a many-headed dragon, and she is but a limb as is he. The idea makes her shudder, cold hands around the base of her neck. ]
( Prince said something similar to me, about all this, but he wasn't as punitive, because we got what we wanted from the Shril in the end. Here, it hasn't worked out, and maybe it wouldn't ever. )
[ An admission of her mistakes and her difficulty in learning from them, when change implies a loosening of her grip on what constitutes as her self. When the tools of her survival are the same weapons that prompts her to place her life at stake at every turn. ]
( What happens now? )
no subject
( Then decide. The four of us cannot constantly monitor all of you.)
[An understanding- a chain. Make decisions consciously, and then inform their superiors- them. Stand by those choices and take responsibility for them.
Which was the problem here-]
( I will consult with the others.)
no subject
( I will become what I need to be. )
[ His answer feels like an ending, and she doesn't bother with goodbyes and good nights when she steps back and away from his audience, the sense of a bow or a salute, before she walks out of the room. ]