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 Posted: Sun Jan 15, 2017 10:45 am
Part of him wanted to look at her, to watch her face and gauge her reaction, but instead he stared out at the nightlife lights below, legs swinging slightly. There was a soft thump, thud, tap from where his heels hit the large glass window panes. He took another sip of his cooling tea, hissing when the hot liquid slid down his throat.
"I haven't had anyone to talk about this with, well not one that wouldn't give me a biased opinion," Aluminite started, pressing his thumb beneath the lip of the cup and pushing it upward. The plastic cracked, but the lid did not come off. "My sister won't talk about it any more, keeps tell me to forget. My gi - the friend that talked about this spot? She told me to stop thinking about the past but," he frowned, shook his head. His breath eased out of him in a small puff of white air, breath too hot for the cold night air after his drink.
"Years ago, I died." It sounded funny now, talking to someone who probably had no idea about what he was talking about. "I went missing, with a bunch of others, and, I don't remember exactly, but I died and then suddenly, at one point, I wasn't dead any more. I thought for a long time," he held up his arm, let the hidden blade show itself, metal glistening in the moonlight, before he withdrew it and grasped at his pant leg.
"I thought that what happened, how we all came back, was because of...Metallia. She's the source behind," he gestured to himself and sighed. "But all of my records were tampered with, like someone trying to hide the truth and...I don't trust my own memories Connie."
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Posted: Sun Jan 15, 2017 12:15 pm
She couldn’t figure out what emotions were strongest for Aluminite as he spoke. There were too many to untangle, maybe emotions that he didn’t even realize he was revealing. Deep emotions that were trapped, buried away for fear of anyone needlessly judging, from anyone dismissing them.
And Connie knew the only reason she could pick that up from the way he spoke and the words he said and the tension of his gestures was because she felt the same. Nothing as life changing as what Aluminite was telling her, but she certainly understood the necessity to keep up appearances, because who would really care? It was better to be strong than be scared and alone, even if it was all a facade.
The sight of the blade startled her a little, only because she’d had no idea he even had a weapon on him. All this time he could have easily killed her and the fact that he hadn’t just made her trust him more. He could easily kill her, but that wasn’t him.
“Maybe you just need to try and figure them out. Your memories,” she offered, realizing as she said it how silly and simple it sounded. “Maybe… maybe it’ll be easier to figure out what is the truth and what is not if you… write them down. Or record them somehow.”
She paused and bit at her lip, almost forgetting about the hot chocolate as she tried to sort through everything he’d just told her and everything he showed her. She had no idea who Metallia was, but since he gestured to himself she could only assume it had to do with who he was, the power he had. And dying… she didn’t quite understand, but that didn’t lessen his experience.
“I’m sorry you died,” she said softly, shifting to be able to look up at him easier, frowning sadly at him. “I’m sorry for what you had to go through. That must… be terrible to think about… And you’re alive now, and I’m thankful for that because I got to meet you, but that doesn’t mean what happened is any less important. And if you feel that way,” she continued, desperately hoping he knew she was being sincere in wanting to help him, “If you feel that way, you’re probably right. If the truth is being hidden from you, you just have to find it. I… I can help if you’d like… if I can…”
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Posted: Mon Jan 16, 2017 1:40 am
Aluminite had only used his weapon once and he'd regretted it immediately even though it had been used in self defense, to save a friend, but that didn't erase the guilt. Or how he hated himself and the blood that stained his hands. Five, no six, years he'd gone without blood on his ledger and in the shortest timespan he had dumped red all over it.
Sometimes, he hated himself for it.
"I've been trying," he sighed, blinking several times to refocus himself. "I've been looking for people...the ones that went missing when I did." And he had hoped that they would have provided him with clarity but instead they had made things murkier. "Most of them say the same thing, people in white saved them. A few...a few say that the mirrorwalkers and...my fellow agents rescued us. There was a bright light though, that remains clear and untampered with."
At some point, Aluminite had taken another long sip of his drink, then pushed his hand through his hair, tugging at the curly brown locks. "I don't know if you can help me Connie," he admitted, looking at her with a rueful grin. "I don't know if there's anything to help really, I'm okay. But thank you for listening, it's...nice to get it out there again. I haven't...really talked to anyone about it in a long time."
Jackie made it clear that she wasn't going listen or talk about it either.
"I'll find it eventually."
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Posted: Mon Jan 16, 2017 8:18 pm
There were a lot of things Connie wanted to ask, things that she’d never heard before. The people that went missing. Mirrorwalkers. She wanted to ask about his fellow agents and the people in white. But none of that was as important as making sure Aluminite was okay, that he was able to talk about everything he needed to. She kept silent as he spoke, her hands clutching to the cup of hot chocolate.
“I know you’ll find it,” Connie insisted, reaching out to place her hand, warm from holding the cup, over his wrist before she could really think about whether or not he even wanted the contact, even despite the fact that she’d just seen that he kept a hidden weapon up his sleeve. All she knew was that she wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. That what he said mattered.
“You’ve already been through so much, Aluminite. More than I know I can even imagine. You’re a good person, and I know you’ll find what you’re looking for. Maybe not tomorrow, but someday,” she promised, her expression somewhat distressed since she knew there wasn’t any way to guarantee that he would find what he needed to find, but it was more important for him to not give up. If he did, then he definitely wouldn’t find what he wanted.
“I wouldn’t mind hearing more, if you wanted to talk. You don’t have to right now, but if you want to try to sort things out,” she said, finally drawing her hand away from his wrist to pull the coat he’d let her borrow closer around her to try and block out the wind. It sounded silly, she knew. He hardly knew her, and she didn’t know a lot to begin with, so what could she possibly do to help? But she understood the importance of listening, even if he didn’t think it was important.
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Posted: Tue Jan 17, 2017 9:57 am
The touch was grounding, in an unexpected way, that had Aluminite's brow uncrinkling and his shoulder slumping slightly. Squeezing his eyes shut, the captain willed himself to calm down, be less anxious, despite the way it threatened to overwhelm him. He was fine, Connie was being patient and understanding, and she was listening to him.
His hand shifted, palm and inner wrist up, to let her hold as she wanted. Instinct told him to take her hand, but he left it there, pressed against his pant leg. Taking a deep breath, nodded, green blinking at her when he reopened his eyes. "Experiences make life don't they?" He asked, trying to make the atmosphere lighter. Perhaps serious talks such as these were better left for another time.
More quietly, he admitted, "I used to want to live a life worth writing about." This wasn't the type of life he wanted to write about though, so he didn't know what type of life he wished to lead any more.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have unloaded all of that on you, that was unfair of me." Poor Connie, getting stuck listening to him ramble of inconsequential things.
"Tell me about your art project."
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Posted: Tue Jan 24, 2017 7:25 pm
Connie forced a smile on her face, because while everything he told her made her heart hurt, she didn’t want him to worry about how she felt while he was still trying to overcome everything bothering him. And she knew he hadn’t even scratched the surface of whatever it was. After all, he’d been kind enough to bring her to this amazing place and be her friend.
“You shouldn’t say that!” she quickly said when he mentioned how he used to want to live a life worth writing about, trying not to let her smile falter or look too distressed. “You are still alive. You should still want to live that life,” she tried, even though she knew he was feeling pretty down at the moment and probably wouldn’t even want to think about what could be and probably just what he’d gone through and was going through.
She bit at her lip, her smile fading despite herself, but she quickly cleared her throat and shook her head, glancing away from Aluminite for only a few moments to settle herself before turning back with another smile.
“I was thinking about how the sky is like a giant fishbowl, full of purity and light,” Connie explained when she was asked to talk about her project. “But the city would be leaking oil and pollution into it. I’ve been collecting recycled materials for it. Cans, bottles. Old newspapers. Fabric scraps. Just whatever junk I can find that I can figure out how to strip down and weave together. I’ve already got cuts all over my hands from trying to turn soda cans into ribbon,” she said with a forced laugh, holding up one of her hands to show where there were mostly healed cuts and a couple bandages still wrapped around her fingers.
“I don’t think it’s unfair, just so you know,” she added as she stared out over the buildings of the city. “Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you did tell me, even if it makes me sad for you,” she said, lifting her hot chocolate to her lips to sip.
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Posted: Wed Jan 25, 2017 10:55 am
The thing that Aluminite had come to associate with Connie was compassionate. She cared so much about him already and their time together had been short, but the captain found that he cared about the page almost as equally as she cared for him. The idea unnerved him slightly, because what would Katrina think if she saw him fraternizing with the enemy so freely and comfortably.
Aluminite felt as if some sort of knife had plunged into his lungs and twisted, just to make him struggle to breathe.
"I wish I could," he said quietly, trying to keep his gasps for air subtle. The man felt as if his chest was constricting, with his head spinning and generally feeling lightheaded. Closing his eyes seemed to help, even if it didn't alleviate all of the stress that coiled around him like a python. "Maybe some day," he sighed wistfully, feeling like he was always thinking that.
Not today, not tomorrow, but someday.
It was easier, when the conversation shifted and he could focus on her, instead of himself. "You should invest in metal working gloves," he mused, green eyes dropping to her hands so that he could look them over. "I think that I'd like to see it if I could but..." It was an impractical wish. Seeing it in any form would give too much away about who Connie might be outside of this life.
He sighed.
'I'm glad I met you, just so you know."
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Posted: Wed Jan 25, 2017 9:46 pm
Slowly, but with determination, Connie reached out to grasp onto the back of Aluminite’s hand before she could think better of it. She could hear the tension in his voice, in the way he held himself. The way he tried to focus on her when she spoke. It was painful, and Connie couldn’t look at him for fear that she would cry if she saw his face. He sounded so worn down, like he really was ready to give up.
She didn’t want to see him give up. She wanted him to fight and be the best he could be. It wouldn’t be easy, but she knew she would do whatever she could to help, if he’d let her.
“You’re probably right,” she agreed with a small nod, trying to clear her throat so her voice didn’t sound as tight as her throat felt. “I’ll have to get some. Gloves, I mean.”
Her hand tightened when he said how he would like to see her art, knowing that it would mean finding out who she was. And really, Connie couldn’t quite convince herself that she wouldn’t be okay with that. She was maybe too trusting and naive, but she would rather live a short life believing in the good in people than a long one hiding from the world.
“I’m glad I met you, too.”
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