waking the dead 2.0 | october 21-23, 2063 | en-route to the darkest pit.

[mistermarlowe]

WHO: Taning Marisigan's strike team within the Infernal Realms
WHAT: This is the catch-all log for all interactions that take place after the party leaves the Cicada Shell Plains for the final phase of Operation "Ela".
WHERE: The carriage Alyssandra Caiphas lent the party
WHEN: Evening of October 21 until the small hours of the morning on October 23 (just before sunrise).
SAFE FOR WORK? Likely!
OTHER NOTES:
+ You're more than welcome to leave starters for texts/emails/calls to characters who aren't actually on the carriage.
+ I won't be posting any NPCs up here. Just ping me if you want to interact with anyone specific.


[ It'll feel like you're taking a train down to another interesting destination within the Fifth World. The "carriage" that Alyssandra Caiphas has provided with the party is incredibly comfortable, with individual rooms for all of the members and imps that politely attend to every need that you might have. The scenery's nice, in a fucked up sort of way. Maybe, in different circumstances, some of you might be able to enjoy it.

Beyond the bedrooms, there's a common dining area, several common rooms and an observation deck to hang around in. You're also welcome to drop in at the front car, where the imps in charge of navigating the lot of you through the area are manning the Night Mares. Everything is styled in a fashion that'll remind the history buffs in your party of the old Orient Express. ]

Comments

[bladeweaver]

[And there it is. It's the matter-of-fact tone that convinces him that you're not merely saying this for dramatic effect. That, and Yulia Bostova doesn't really do "sad smiling".]

I know.

[And from his tone, you know that he's referring to both of the things you said. Incongruously, he thinks that it is entirely too depressing for you to be getting each other when he has eleven years on you. But then, he thinks, neither time nor tide really care for the feelings of tiny people such as you and he.

It is for that exact same reason that, sometimes, he hates the thought of being a long-lived mage. It's too easy to lose more than you gain when you live hundreds of years.]

Does saying it make it easier?

[He's not gonna say anything about how selfish it would be if it did. If anyone in this blade has the most right to be selfish about how to live or die, it's got to be you.

Do you know, Yulia, how much it will fucking hurt to not force you to run away from death?]

[bostova]

[ She's quiet for a moment, head tilted slightly to the side like she's considering the question, looking for the answer.

The truth is, she doesn't know what the answer was? Did it make things easier? Did it make things less painful? She isn't sure. She doesn't know.

It did make her sad, though. But it's not something she would say.

So she shrugs. ]

If it happens, it happens. I try not to think of it too much.

[ She leans back into the chair, folds her hands on her lap and closes her eyes. She takes a breath, and exhales. When she opens her eyes again, she looks at him, right at Estanislao. ]

If this is the end of the line for me, I wouldn't mind it.

I have no regrets.

[ At first, earlier in the year, she thought she would regret this. Would regret staying with the hounds, with the people she met on that plane ride from Jotunheim to the Philippines. But she doesn't. There were a lot of things they did she thought was stupid, but... these were the only people she has left.

Loathe as she was to admit it, she's grown fond of all of them.

And if she dies, she knows she would die for them, or with them. And that's... not such a bad way to go. ]

don't kill me <3

[bladeweaver]

[I do. I would regret it.

So said the look in his eyes as he looks back at you, holds your gaze for a painful few seconds, and looks away. Less obviously sad this time, but still.

He understands. He really does. He'd just rather you... minded it. Maybe.

Because. Because so many people throw around the word "family" these days that it's kinda lost some of its meaning to him. He is, after all, fatherless, motherless, and currently siblingless. He remembers what it felt like, vaguely, to have had a biological family, and he remembers, scorchingly clear, how it felt like to lose them.

Except, when the bullets and the spells and the daggers start to fly and you start to bleed, sometimes, whoever bleeds beside you becomes your family too. Sometimes you share the same blood with someone the hard way. Spilled on the dirt by the same fell sword, churned into red mud by the same desperate dodge. Perhaps that is magic on its own. He wouldn't really know. He isn't the Bladian.

When a bullet whizzes past, you cringe, not for yourself, but for whoever it is you're fighting with, hoping that that bullet didn't have their name on it. You start, engagement by engagement, inching yourself closer to taking that bullet for them until one day, you do, and you're not even surprised.

Even if that someone is a ridiculously icy bitch like you. Although come to think of it, he stopped minding that maybe the first month after he first met you.

So he responds with the only thing he really can respond with: gratitude. He's not gonna say any of the things that crossed his mind. In the safety of his head, no one but the ones who live there can think of it as trite. And they wouldn't, anyway.

The Assassin. Lady Swallowtail. A Marquess of Hell. And a dragon who's lost his original soulmate.

Yeah. He's pretty sure they'd all understand.]

... Thanks. You really didn't have to do this. Any of you.

we may have run out of salt

[bostova]

If I thought that this mission wasn't worth it, I would not be here, Estanislao.

[ She smiles ruefully as she takes her cup and finishes her coffee. Of course, as she sets it back down, she swipes a piece of bacon from Taning's plate. It wasn't fair that he was ignoring the delicious piece of food. ]