[ idk, let's say this is in the common room? Vlad's been poring over the message they received that day intently, like he'll find something secret in it if he tries hard enough. ]
Hmm. The Avatars seemed rather cavalier about someone dying, didn't they?
I only heard their . . . welcome packet a few times [when people read it to him out loud] but it mentioned death. more than once. I thought I might be overthinking it, getting worried for no reason, but there's--
[ yeah, it's cuz he lacks basic respect and empathy for other people
but, he sighs, shoulders slumping. ]
It's a tragedy, of course, to be sure, but...I barely knew him at all. It's sad and horrible, yes, but I'm more concerned about what this means now for the rest of us. By what method did he die? Who was the culprit--one of the Avatars, perhaps? Will it happen again, then?
I can't allow myself to be distraught when there's a chance that there's information that could prevent more meaningless deaths.
For both Beauregard and myself. [ mmmm maybe. but Vlad can recognize his current audience, and that whole shouting match Molly had with her is uh, fresh in his memory. ]
If the Avatars know the answer, can tell us she isn't guilty, then why still whisk her away for some nebulous punishment?
[Molly just seems a bit distant, sniffing and actually bothering to wipe some of the blood off of his face from where Beau had socked the shit out of him.]
Why not? How I answer depends on how much of the argument you heard, if I'm being honest.
[Molly's been avoiding people, mostly, but he's still wandering the halls attempting to keeping moving. Hiding doesn't seem to make it better. When he sees Vlad, he'll raise a hand, but, the eye contact is perhaps a little too long, too sudden--]
“So before you woke up in the dirt . . . nothing?”
You can feel the magic, pulling you. Whatever you say, it will be the truth. You’ve no choice about that for the moment. Jester doesn’t seem to be sorry at all.
“There is no before. Whatever happened before is not me. Some asshole got buried in the dirt. Fuck him. I am enjoying what I’m doing; I want nothing to do with that. Anything that came before, I was happy to just leave it be.”
“Do you really not want to know your past?” Nott is hesitant, hands in front of her, nervous.
“I really don’t. Whoever that was came to that end, and I want nothing to do with that. Whatever it was, it doesn’t feel good when I– the moment when something creeps through, I don’t like it. I don’t want anything to do with it. I was happy! I liked the circus! The circus was great!”
She tries again: “I’m sorry to belabor this, but what if you had a good life before this? What if you were famous or rich or had friends or family?”
At this, Yasha tries to intervene, how you love her, ”I think he’s quite an amazing person–“ but you interrupt anyway.
“Okay, here’s the thing that you’re not catching. That wasn’t me. This is mine. I don’t want anything from that other person anymore. That person is someone else. It was– I’m in for a penny, might as well. I’m told, although I don’t entirely remember this part, that I only said the word empty over and over again for the first week.”
“Empty. That sounds terrible. I don’t want to remember anything. I don’t want to anybody else’s baggage in my head and I don’t want anybody else’s problems, thoughts, ideas. I like this person, right now is a good person. Is a fine person. Is a happy person. It’s very freeing. It’s the best thing– it’s the thing that happened to me. It’s not the best thing that happened to me, it’s the thing that happened to me. I found peace in building a new person.
What if the past feels that I owe it something?”
Beau pipes in, loud and brash as always. “You don’t owe your past shit. If I don’t feel anything about my past, but I still remember it and I still don’t give a fuck about where I came from then, why should you care about shit that you don’t even remember?”
You scowl right back at her.
“I spent two years before I met you all cajoling people, occasionally ripping them off, occasionally doing a good turn here or there. Never trust the truth. The truth is vicious. The truth thinks you owe it something. None of that. I like my bullshit. It’s good. It’s happy. It makes other people happy."
Nott, again: “But it’s not who you are . . . ?”
“It is exactly who I am. I may be a liar but I’m never a betrayer. I’m honest in my work, and I believe in doing a good turn. I’ve never cheated you out of money. I’ve never robbed from you. I stayed with that circus for two years, I know how people treat each other. It’s important. I don’t care where you’ve been. I don’t care what terrible things any of you have done. You’re here now. This is how it works.
I do my best every town I went to and every town I left, no matter how they treated me– and a lot of them treated me with deep disrespect. I left every town better than I found it.”
You can feel Beau’s glare from across the room. You don’t care. You don’t care at all what she thinks of you.
“Let me make this abundantly clear. My name is Molly. That person is dead and not me. It’s just a person who had this body. They abandoned it.
By whatever means, you only have memory of the past...two years, was it? And whatever you were doing before then--or, I suppose, your body--you have no recollection of.
Ah, well, in that case, allow me to congratulate you. It takes quite a bit of strength to embrace reinvention and moving on so wholeheartedly. It's something I can't imagine myself doing, personally.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
W0, FRIDAY
Hmm. The Avatars seemed rather cavalier about someone dying, didn't they?
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[Molly is, uh, going for the booze. This is fine. His tail is swishing back and forth like one very nervous cat.]
They did mention it a few too many times for comfort even before this.
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Does that mean they were expecting it, then?
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Shit. Things can never just be easy can they?
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[ ...then, raising an eyebrow: ]
You seem particularly shaken by this.
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but, he sighs, shoulders slumping. ]
It's a tragedy, of course, to be sure, but...I barely knew him at all. It's sad and horrible, yes, but I'm more concerned about what this means now for the rest of us. By what method did he die? Who was the culprit--one of the Avatars, perhaps? Will it happen again, then?
I can't allow myself to be distraught when there's a chance that there's information that could prevent more meaningless deaths.
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[But,]
Deaths happen, but-- Fuck, it isn't as if you want them happening to people just trying to get one good turn.
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W0, post trial
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. . . What are you doing?
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I've got no idea. Learning to knit. Fucking a beautiful woman. Pondering mortality.
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[ is he talking about himself? about beau? who knows! ]
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[His tail whips a little bit, but he isn't necessarily outright accusatory. More just a question.]
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For both Beauregard and myself. [ mmmm maybe. but Vlad can recognize his current audience, and that whole shouting match Molly had with her is uh, fresh in his memory. ]
If the Avatars know the answer, can tell us she isn't guilty, then why still whisk her away for some nebulous punishment?
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I don't know if it helps, but I wanted it to be me. Badly. I have no idea why it'd be you on that board.
[Probably just most people not voting.]
Because. It's a punishment.
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Why did you want it to be you?
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[Molly just seems a bit distant, sniffing and actually bothering to wipe some of the blood off of his face from where Beau had socked the shit out of him.]
Why not? How I answer depends on how much of the argument you heard, if I'm being honest.
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I heard plenty. It seems you two are...rather close. Closer than one would expect after only a week.
[ not that vlad understands sacrificing yourself for a loved one ANYWAY. ]
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[i mean.]
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...my condolences.
[ because like. what else is there to say to that, really? ]
W2 - MONDAY - 1/2
2/2
“So before you woke up in the dirt . . . nothing?”
You can feel the magic, pulling you. Whatever you say, it will be the truth. You’ve no choice about that for the moment. Jester doesn’t seem to be sorry at all.
“There is no before. Whatever happened before is not me. Some asshole got buried in the dirt. Fuck him. I am enjoying what I’m doing; I want nothing to do with that. Anything that came before, I was happy to just leave it be.”
“Do you really not want to know your past?” Nott is hesitant, hands in front of her, nervous.
“I really don’t. Whoever that was came to that end, and I want nothing to do with that. Whatever it was, it doesn’t feel good when I– the moment when something creeps through, I don’t like it. I don’t want anything to do with it. I was happy! I liked the circus! The circus was great!”
She tries again: “I’m sorry to belabor this, but what if you had a good life before this? What if you were famous or rich or had friends or family?”
At this, Yasha tries to intervene, how you love her, ”I think he’s quite an amazing person–“ but you interrupt anyway.
“Okay, here’s the thing that you’re not catching. That wasn’t me. This is mine. I don’t want anything from that other person anymore. That person is someone else. It was– I’m in for a penny, might as well. I’m told, although I don’t entirely remember this part, that I only said the word empty over and over again for the first week.”
Caleb, asks: “M.T.? Or empty?”
“Empty. That sounds terrible. I don’t want to remember anything. I don’t want to anybody else’s baggage in my head and I don’t want anybody else’s problems, thoughts, ideas. I like this person, right now is a good person. Is a fine person. Is a happy person. It’s very freeing. It’s the best thing– it’s the thing that happened to me. It’s not the best thing that happened to me, it’s the thing that happened to me. I found peace in building a new person.
What if the past feels that I owe it something?”
Beau pipes in, loud and brash as always. “You don’t owe your past shit. If I don’t feel anything about my past, but I still remember it and I still don’t give a fuck about where I came from then, why should you care about shit that you don’t even remember?”
You scowl right back at her.
“I spent two years before I met you all cajoling people, occasionally ripping them off, occasionally doing a good turn here or there. Never trust the truth. The truth is vicious. The truth thinks you owe it something. None of that. I like my bullshit. It’s good. It’s happy. It makes other people happy."
Nott, again: “But it’s not who you are . . . ?”
“It is exactly who I am. I may be a liar but I’m never a betrayer. I’m honest in my work, and I believe in doing a good turn. I’ve never cheated you out of money. I’ve never robbed from you. I stayed with that circus for two years, I know how people treat each other. It’s important. I don’t care where you’ve been. I don’t care what terrible things any of you have done. You’re here now. This is how it works.
I do my best every town I went to and every town I left, no matter how they treated me– and a lot of them treated me with deep disrespect. I left every town better than I found it.”
You can feel Beau’s glare from across the room. You don’t care. You don’t care at all what she thinks of you.
“Let me make this abundantly clear. My name is Molly. That person is dead and not me. It’s just a person who had this body. They abandoned it.
it’s mine now.”
And the memory fades. ]
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...goodness. That's...quite a heavy discussion to have.
Amnesia, I take it?
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Yikes.
Well, that's a lot to have spilled on what is basically a strangers doorstep.]
No . . . ? As I said. I was born as I am. I'm not missing anything.
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By whatever means, you only have memory of the past...two years, was it? And whatever you were doing before then--or, I suppose, your body--you have no recollection of.
Am I understanding that right?
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[so we're trying this tactic, huh.]
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