ataraxionlogs | Her Majesty's tears and the pauper's blood

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Her Majesty's tears and the pauper's blood

CHARACTERS: Heather Mason (plus demon) and OTA
LOCATION: the oxygen garden, the kitchen, or just strolling the corridors looking for... stuff
WARNINGS: bad manners, bad language, and possible violence (prearranged she is not going to attack anyone)
SUMMARY: Heather hasn't been out and about much this jump, and when she has she's been with Tillman and probably engaged in what looked like pretty intense conversation ~~or trying to hold his hand under the table at breakfast without anyone noticing~~. Now it's what passes for the wee small hours and she's out unattended for the first time since the jump.
NOTES: Please feel free to grab any of the locations I mentioned or throw in your own! I promised a few people demon interaction, so this is for anyone who wants some :D I'm also cool with prose or action so pick your favourite and I'll follow.

It's been a rough couple of months. That's probably why Heather's been acting a little out of sorts. She's made and lost a dear friend in the space of a jump. Perhaps it's missing Kitten's fashion advice that means she's ditched her own clothes for the Tranquility jumpsuit again, although why she's accessorizing with dogtags instead of her usual ever-present locket is anyone's guess.

But now it's late – or early, depending on your perspective – and she's out and messing with things. Wandering the corridors looking for something to do. In the kitchens with a slight curl to her lip, poking packets of alleged food. In the garden, staring at a patch of dark red flowers she'd been tending near obsessively and looking like she's contemplating ripping them up.

She's obviously bored. Why not say hi?

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"It's - I don't know. It might be nothing, really. I just - I heard there's something on the ship. Something bad. And not that guy who's like, feeding on people, either."

Forgive her, Asato, she knows not what she does. Except that she really, really does know. It's all perfectly calculated, from the over-familiarity of her fretful petting of his tail to the hushed, scared tone of her voice.

"I heard there's a demon."

And just like that, everything comes to a screeching halt.

"Are you sure, Heather?" Asato can tell she's scared, and he moves closer to her, rests his forehead against hers for a moment to try and reassure her. His ears are ringing, though, and it's a small wonder he's not fidgeting more than he is--just a hand on his baggy pant leg, tightening and relaxing, tightening and relaxing. Kneading. It calms him, but only a little.

"Who told you?"

She closes her eyes when his forehead meets hers, bites her lip. Tries not to smirk at his obvious discomfort, and manages. Barely.

"Nobody - I - promise you won't think I'm a freak?" She balls her hands into fists, tight enough that her nails mark little crescent moons on her palms, and looks up at him all fear and vulnerability.

"I have dreams, sometimes. That are true. Or will be, I don't - it's hard to explain. But I can always tell, when it's one like that." That's true enough, and something Heather's mentioned to other people, so if he feels the need to check - and something tells her he won't - the groundwork is already done. "I hate it."

He mutters a low "Promise," as she speaks, nodding to let her continue. Her hands...Asato wonders if he should offer to hold them, but he's not sure if that sort of contact would be alright at this moment, so he refrains from reaching out to her. Nuzzling against her is easier to do, a little more animal than the act of taking another's hand in his own.

The dreams aren't something he's heard about before, but again he trusts and believes her. He can't think of a reason why Heather would lie to him about something like this, so he takes in every word she says, waiting patiently through any brief instances of hesitation. I hate it--while he doesn't understand, he can sympathize, and he mumbles something like an apology.

"Are you afraid?" He doesn't know which possible answer would be worse.

"Yes." It comes out almost a whisper, because she knows the admission would cost Heather something. Knows she'd usually cover up fear with bluster and bite. Unless she was talking to someone she trusted without question.

"It was horrible. And I don't even know how to start trying to keep you guys safe." Her hands unclench, fingers twitching like she just doesn't know what to do with them. "If something happened you, or Chase, or anyone - if something happened and I knew and I could have stopped it - I couldn't forgive myself. But there's nothing like that here, right? I mean, it was huge. And scary. We'd know." She doesn't sound anywhere near as sure as the words should be. Her tone begs for reassurance.

Asato swallows heavily and gives her a more insistent nuzzle, as if his first order of business should be quelling that pang of fear he perceives in her. He doesn't want her to be afraid, but if his own premonitions are anything to go off, then she would have definite reason to be.

"There's nothing like that here." Heather. Chase. Everyone. He feels like he's lying through his teeth when he says there isn't anything like that on the ship--betraying the others, even. If he were to hold her now, knowing that maybe it was that tusked face and hulking build she saw, the same thing he saw staring back at him as a child whenever he went to draw some water from the dirty springs...it wouldn't be a comfort at all, to either of them. How can he know he stays where he is when he's asleep? How can he be sure?

"I promise, Heather."

Edited 2012-04-24 21:25 (UTC)

She huffs a sigh of relief and throws her arms around him, hides her face. A child trying to be brave but giving in to the need for comfort.

"Thanks, Asato." It's a mumble, something that sounds equal parts gratitude and embarrassment. "I know we don't know each other that well, but... I just knew I could trust you, you know?"

The beauty of it is that it's true. Heather would never, never have expected this one to lie. It's an unexpected delight to skittle that illusion.

"I trust Heather, too."

And he wants to be someone she can trust. He really, really does, but now he's beginning to doubt again, the same way he doubted when he first arrived here. It's a horrible feeling, and he gives in to the need to hold on tight to her as well. "I won't let anything hurt you."

But what will he do when he's the one hurting her to begin with?

The smile she gives him is just the right blend of shaky gratitude and bravado. She pulls back, resettles. Makes herself the picture of Heather doing what she does best and strapping in to take care of things, regardless of how frightened or hurt she might be. Amusingly, the more she acts like the girl the more Heather seems to hate it.

"I guess we'll just have to look out for each other, huh? Anything that wants to go up against the two of us is gonna have its work cut out for it."

"Right." A smile in return, small and uncertain. Maybe this means that if things do go downhill for him, he can count on Heather to help him. They can protect each other--not just from the outside threats that loom on this ship and in space, but from their own demons, from whatever may plague them. He has that much faith in her, though he hopes it won't ever have to come to that. He can keep trying to hide it, and fight it on his own.

"I'll do my best to keep you safe, Heather. So don't be scared. Please."

"Hey, no problem." She grins, a little wobbly but very determined. Inside, it's a leer. Secrets make people so easy to manipulate, and if he's truly as awful as he thinks he is she's hit the jackpot. A real, actual-factual monster feeling that he needs to protect her? Feeling indebted to her? It's like Christmas.

"I've got your back too, okay?" She extends a closed fist, a little tentative. Friends, right?

"Yes. Thank you, Heather."

His smile becomes a bit brighter and he gently bumps his fist against hers.

Friends.

He's made himself so vulnerable now. Laid himself bare without even knowing it. For now, he feels a little more at ease, happy to have her support and willing to return it in kind. His fist lowers after a moment and he rubs his cheek against her shoulder. Things will turn out okay--they have to.

She laughs, pleased and surprised when his cheek touches her shoulder, even if the reasons for it are all messed up. His sweet little face, his easy trust. And all that doubt and shame simmering beneath the surface, just waiting. She inclines her head towards his, her cheek resting on his hair, and in a very wrong and hateful sort of way it's almost genuine affection.

Comfortable, if not quite happy, he lets a quiet purr sound through his chest, his tail curling around her. It's not easy to hide it, the doubt, the feeling that he shouldn't even exist, but during moments like these he can try to forget. Heather means something to him, and he means something to Heather. He can only wonder if it's enough to keep her safe, simply knowing that she's an important friend.

"Will you sit here a little bit longer?" Company--it's nice to have someone around. Not even to have animated conversations with, but just to have around so things aren't so lonely. Asato wants to reach out to people, a helpless child with his arms outstretched, waiting.

"I'd like that." And Heather would, under ordinary circumstances, having been without someone she could just sit with in quiet companionship and simple platonic affection since her father died. And really, that just makes it more fun. Asato wants to reach out to people? Well, here she is, waiting with open arms.

He might not like what happens when he gets there, though.

Edited (lol) 2012-04-25 00:49 (UTC)

He seems glad to hear it and nods, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping an arm around his legs, a soft sigh escaping him. It's a tense, shielded position, still a bit defensive by default. They're sitting quite close, and he doesn't mind that. It's friendly and affectionate, and Asato's relieved he can be open with someone, be close to them without fearing that they'll run or hurt him.

"Thank you, Heather." He looks to her, ears flicking uncertainly. "For everything."

After that, he goes quiet, not awkwardly but naturally, inhaling deeply to catch the scent of green foliage and flowers. His favorite. Not something he could enjoy often in his home valley, where a thick miasma choked out most life.

"Any time, buddy."

She goes still, quiet. It's not a skill Heather possesses unless she's got her nose in a book, and those are in pretty short supply on the ship. It's probably the stillest she's been when not actually asleep. And she's happy to draw it out for as long as it takes; to let Asato settle into the openness, the trust and the friendship she's offering, and to let Heather choke on it.

Gradually his posture relaxes; he lets go of his legs and leans back a little, finally beginning to feel truly at ease. He doesn't say anything for a while, not being one to chatter away much regardless, but his hands, eyes, and ears are busy. They observe, they listen, they grasp handfuls of soft grass.

Asato reaches out towards a patch of flowers growing--daisies, or something akin to them--and carefully picks one, then leans over and delicately threads it into Heather's hair. He's surprisingly gentle with it for having such large, rough hands. No monster could be this tender with another person. He'd like to think so.

"It looks nice, I think."

She ducks her head and laughs, a close approximation of someone embarrassed, but pleased. It's fascinating how eager he is to prove to himself that he's not the monster he believes himself to be. It would be sweet if it wasn't so pathetic.

There's no trace of that opinion on her face when she lifts it again to meet his eyes, one hand lightly touching her hair near where the flower sits.

"Jeez, you just couldn't get any sweeter, could you?"

Underneath the soft laugh he gives her is a world of insecurity. She could just as well have said no and got up, walked away. He won't push it much further for now.

He's an adult with the mentality of a child, sheltered and scorned all his life, so when he finds someone who's kind to him he clings to them fiercely. Heather has the distinguished honor of being one of the people he's latched onto. In time, he'll think of other ways to show her that he isn't frightening, that he can be trusted and liked and maybe even loved just as he is. But for now, he's happy--maybe even playful, considering how calm and reserved he normally is.

"Do you like it?"

"Asato." It's gently chiding, a little hint of don't-be-so-silly. "I love it. Wait, let me - " she reaches for a flower herself, plucks one with a long stalk and tuck it into his hair, just above his ear. With his dark hair and velvety black ears the effect is striking, and she adopts a smile to suit.

"There! Now we match."

Don't they just? Sweet faces and well-meaning souls, and the stink of corruption on both of them. Even without Heather's current pilot.

His hand comes up to the flower in his hair and he laughs, almost boisterously this time.

"Yeah!"

He's on his hands and knees in the grass now, an eager, playful pose, his tail high in the air. The more she responds to him, the more he opens up; a friendly, smiling face to cover up the grimace of snarling jaws and dripping fangs that still lurks under there, somewhere. He's not even thinking about that anymore, though; it's an obstacle they'll overcome if it ever arises, and until then he just wants to be close to her, making her smile.

"Do you come here a lot?"

"Yeah. It calms me down when I'm feeling sad, or angry, or scared. I had this thing a few years ago, I was- I was stuck somewhere. And bad things happened. But nothing grew there, so when I come here... I guess it reminds me that it's not the same."

Yet again, it's nothing but the truth. Something she'd tell a friend, someone she trusted, but spiked with a hook and laid out as bait.

"I just really don't want to have to do anything like that again."

"It was the same for me." He doesn't sound entirely concerned with it, because he's like to believe that the memories are fond, even if they're everything but. "Where I lived, the fog kept anything from growing. Sometimes it felt dark and lonely."

It provided good cover for a secretive tribe, but it meant food was scarce and clean drinking water was a precious resource. A grueling existence that hardened every cat in Kira and spread rumors far and wide--vicious brutes, cannibals. There was no comfort to be found there, so when he hears her speak, he sympathizes.

"Compared to that...here, it's nice. Especially if there's people around that you can talk to."

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Her Majesty's tears and the pauper's blood

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