eastbound | [audio] un: nah (forward-dated to the 3rd)

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[audio] un: nah (forward-dated to the 3rd)

So turns out the beacon can swallow you up and spit you right back out after several decades in your own world - in case everyone else is as unaware of that being a possibility as I was.

Name's Red for those of you who didn't know me before when I was teenage-shaped and brand spankin' new to life. For those who did, sorry for the awkward, weird social situation the beacon's just created for us. Now that I'm wiser-to-life, I feel it's better to be up front about some things. I can see people's souls, auras, whatever you wanna call 'em. So I know a lot about someone from the get-go, and I can't turn it on and off.

So there's some options:

A) I can tell you what I see when I meet you in full detail so you know what I know.

B) We both pretend like I don't see shit. Denial is not just a river in Egypt, it's a fun little coping mechanism.

C) My ability malfunctions - can't control this but it happens here.

D) I can make some colorful description up, and we roll with it, cause why not? Live your dreams.

If you got a preference, let me know or I'll assume B is it. I'll be at the bar, drinking about a thousand drinks, and grappling with sudden onslaught of memories and emotions and all that messy fun shit. Cheers, and Happy Train day.

( OOC: Open to network responses and/or action spam. If you want Red to see your chars' aura at some point, feel free to fill it permissions here - I assume her ability just doesn't work if there's nothing filled out so no worries regardless. :) If you already filled it out on her old journal, no need to fill it out again! )

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( Red settles with him into the booth, watching the way he drinks- can it even be called 'drinking' when he's lapping at the liquid like a cat? It's amusing though. The tip of her lips quirking into an amused smile as she watches him contend with the drink as if it's the most difficult task in front of him - never mind she knows he's faced up against a great deal and more than what lies in this train.

She releases a breath at the question. )

How about this? A question for a question.

( She takes a sip of her own drink. Red knows his propensity to dodge questions himself, and well, she gets it after all the life she's lived (all the eternity she existed for before that). )

Are you asking how I got sucked up by the beacon or how I got older? Before I answer this one.

[ All of it, he thinks. Everything. Every single detail. From going through the beacon to living decades in her world. How she got older as well, of course, though his most prominent worry at the moment is Hades and what he did, or might have tried to do.

So much of her life, lived apart from him—selfishly, he wants to know it all, what she's gone through, though he hardly has a right to it. He'd imagined and hoped for...so many things in a future that doesn't happen now, in a timeline where he might have saved her from exactly this.

Everything—But he restrains himself. A question for a question. Be proud of him, he's following the rules. For now. ]

Fair. Okay. I'll follow your lead. First question: how did you get sucked up—[ purposefully over-enunciating here ]—through the beacon?

( Red is incredibly proud. She knew she was asking a lot, but also, she's older, and she's learned she can ask more. She can put her foot down, she can make requirements, she can surround herself with walls that no one can get beyond. It's all about control, isn't it?

She sips at her glass. )

Primarily accidentally. I went into Hell. I felt.... responsible for it. Even if where I'm from isn't even called Hell - it was the Underworld.

( She hisses out a breath. )

Anyway. I was out of it, followed the line of people - they were going toward the beacon so I got... got. Swooped up in it. I could have fought harder against it, I guess. ( Some part of her knew - just knew. ) So what happened to you in Alem? ( her question )

[ Responsible for it. And she went to face it alone. In a manner of speaking. The thought alone troubles him to no end. He should have been there. He's never short on guilt, that much is true. ]

Did a part of you—

[ He stops himself. Again, showing restraint. Trying to respect what she's asked. It's her turn to ask the question. He just...doesn't like the question. What does he feel? More guilt, certainly. Shame? A flaring of his usual self-loathing. The knowledge that he failed her in some capacity. ]

There are people in our group who are dead in their timeline, where they were before here. Dead, or...previously dead. Regenerated, in my case. Rathakku wanted them.

[ Me. Stop speaking around it. ]

Us. Me. He tried, more than once. [ The Doctor taps the side of his head. But he has difficulty speaking of it, the part of him that's so good at compartmentalizing, preferring to pretend it didn't happen. He wasn't enthralled, but it was a battle to resist it. And he'd succumbed to a different source of power. ]

I had to keep myself contained. I would have been a threat to everyone.

[ Every part of him wanted to keep this from her. But so much has changed now. ]

None of that matters, though, because I wasn't there when you needed me. I'm so sorry, Red.

( Red appreciates the restraint - the following of her rules like she appreciates his honesty too. He didn't have to tell her shit. Alem was- Even beyond going down below those cracks, it was Hell to be in the siege, to leave oneself open to being controlled like that.

She takes a long sip from her drink and then leans back in her booth, shaking her head. )

You weren't responsible for me. You're still not.

( She takes another long drink from her glass as the burn slides down her throat. )

I don't want sorrys. I don't want your guilt, Doctor. I really don't. I don't blame you for anything, and it doesn't do me any good for you to feel fuckin' guilty either, okay?

( It's not like she had moments of blame in all of that - it was all about every single moment. It was like that for everyone. Piling on responsibility isn't- it's not gonna fix anything. )

Alem was a shit show. We all did what we had to to survive. No explanations needed, okay? We're both too old creatures stuck in the bodies we were given, trying to make it.

[ There's tension there in the set of his jaw. He bites back an immediate response, refraining from the assertion that he's responsible for everyone, that he can't rest until they're all safe. But she wants no apology or guilt or blame, and her point is well made. Getting lost in all of that, well, it takes away from this moment and the next one, where they all have this chance again, as long as it lasts. ]

Responsibility—okay, okay, fine, a different word maybe. I have a duty of care and I made a promise to you. Do you trust it still?

[ Where we're going from here next, whatever happens - good stuff, bad stuff, very bad stuff, maybe, probably - anyway, you've got me. Promise.

That first good chat, so long ago now, when they'd bumped shoulders and understood each other, when the hope of shared promises was perhaps its own faint light in the shadows outside the orphanage. ]

Do you trust me?

[ A question for a question.

But she's only just got back, and her memories are...well, must be muddled, still, he imagines. All the more painful that she'd forgotten everyone here. ]

( Red lifts her eyebrows at that 'duty of care', but she does remember the promise that he's referring to. That she's got him. It's a strange promise to wrap her head around given all she's been through in her own world, and she purposefully made sure to not attach herself to anyone.

It was easier to not be, to not have to have those connections.

She's not in her own world though. She's back in this one. She swirls her drink in her glass.)

I do.

But that trust means I know you'll do your best to look out for me like I'll do for you. ( It doesn't mean she thinks he'll make miracles happen, make the impossible happen. He's as painfully human as she is even when he's also a Time Lord, and she's also Cerberus. ) That trust means I know sometimes the world gets in the way but you still care about me.

Like I do about you.

That will always be true, Red. My caring about you. You know, we've muddled along quite decently so far. [ A flicker of a smile, before he lifts his glass, swirls it around, inhales the aroma, sets it down again. ]

On all fronts, but especially on the looking out for one another part. We'll do better. I'll do better.

[ He rests one hand atop another now, leaning in a bit more. ]

You said you could have fought harder, possibly, against the beacon. Why didn't you?

[ This, perhaps, she'll also remember of him. To the point. But they've always had the ability to be quite open with one another, even if he's...held some things close, still. Not always forthcoming. His tone is gently curious, though. Needing to know as much as she's willing to share for now. ]

( Muddled along quite decently is one way to put it, but he isn't wrong at all. This world leaves plenty up to muddling after all - nothing is clear cut, but that's life in general. It's full of surprises that way. She keeps her glass in hand and then raises an eyebrow at him with a fond smirk. )

Pretty sure that's two questions in a row for you. But we won't count the 'trust' question.

( She looks into the liquid in her glass, and then back up at him again, trying to find the words. )

Like I said Alem and Hell... screwed me up. I was exhausted, had my emotions fucked with by Hell being its fun self, and when I realized the beacon was there, it felt almost inevitable like I couldn't keep running. I had to figure out what was supposed to happen to me. If I really got out.

Then I had an internal monologue trying to figure out what I should do, but it was too late.

[ He didn't entirely mean to break that rule, but here he has. An apology is on his lips, but she's forgiven him already. ]

You wanted to face it. Whatever it was, whatever it was going to be.

[ Quite familiar with that himself. ]

You can run from all of it—I have before and often, myself—but it catches up sooner or later. There's a measure of control, at least, when it's on your terms.

[ This, at least, he understands on some level, even though of course their circumstances are entirely different. And even if he would have preferred she stay here, stay safe with all of them. Well, relatively safe. A strange term to conjure considering where they've just been, probably.

How did she get older?

Did Hades hurt her?

Is she glad to be back here?

His jaw tenses a little before his lips part, almost to start asking something again, but he stops. Somehow, somehow, he restrains himself again. Learning, perhaps. ]

What happened to you in Alem, I'm so sorry. And this may be the last place you'd have wanted to end up again, but I'm glad you're still here. Or...here, again.

...yeah. Don't know if I had the time to think all that through, but basically that. I'd be running from the other beacon, and now I'd got put right in front of one.

( So it swallowed her up and that was that. She holds the glass in her hand, seeing the way his jaw tenses like he wants to ask more but restrains himself. Red appreciates he does for her sake. It's important to her that- that they're on even footing.

She cares about him too, and he has a habit of burying. She gets it - being a compartmentalizer herself (an expert at this point), but if they're getting straight to the point with her, she wants the same in turn. )

...I'd say I feel a lot of ways about this place, but I sure as fuck am happy to be back even multiple decades later.

( Maybe she's answering another question, but it's important to point that out. The group is good. He'd talked about that - they all look out for each other, and she never quite had that like she did here. ) I'm glad to be here, glad to find you among the people greeting me. Other than the whacky hijinks of the sudden shift in time and age on my part, it's a good thing.

( A pause. ) So you were controlled. ( She gets that- Hades had control over her completely for a long time. She knows what it's like. ) Did he make you do anything?

[ She has absolutely every right to get straight to the point and he expects it. It should be a shared thing, reciprocal, and he should be more than willing to answer freely, just as she has. But here, with this particular question, he hesitates. For a number of reasons, it's uncomfortable and unsettling to speak about, though his long pause isn't at all to do with a lack of trust in Red, or a feeling that he can't speak freely with her. ]

Ah, that...yes, well.

[ Those are...words, collectively, that might construe a semblance of meaning if he keeps going and bothers to add more words to actually make it coherent. He's not meeting her eyes now, though, and he reaches for his glass, tipping it slowly back and forth, watching the half light it catches around the rim, the shadows it interrupts. For a moment, quite oddly, he smiles a little. ]

You picked a good drink, if I were much the drinking sort. A taste a bit like strawberry in there...multi-berry concoction. I once invented a banana daquiri, you know!

[ He's trying, trying very hard not to lose a grip on the conversation, not to be himself and expect answers from others while being unwilling to give of himself. She matters—so much—and she might have been lost for good, and this is all so very important.

Setting the glass back down, the Doctor tugs at his bowtie a little, steadying something tangible. He's almost there, Red, he's on the cusp of it, any moment now. He just...needs a minute more. ]

( Red is patient. She knows it isn't easy. As someone who has become a serial compartmentalizer, she has no expectations either. If it's too difficult to say, it is, but she set it up like this because she wants it to be even. She cares about him like he cares about her, and she's not in the shape of a girl anymore (she never really was a girl, a teenage girl - lost and uncertain). Now she is ancient and older and different, and she will wait as long as it takes, quiet and understanding and not accusatory at all.

There's an appreciation to the trying. )

Mm. Didn't know you had ever made a drink before - cause I definitely never saw you drink anything. Not a huge fan of bananas but might have to ask you to make that one time. Maybe here where there's an actual bar.

( She indicates by tipping her drink in that direction, and then after a moment, after she has swallowed own more of her own drink, she speaks, quiet but sure: )

It's okay. ( Whatever he struggles to say, whatever is difficult for him - it will be safe with her. She knows what it is like more than most people - what it's like to have no control. ) I spent countless time in the Underworld committing all kinds of atrocities against souls for Hades - enjoyed it sometimes.

( Enjoyed ripping things to shred, feeding the beast that is her but isn't her but so very much is. )

It's been a long time, granted, but I still remember of course. I remember all of it, everything that came before.

[ In his other lives, those other faces, all the people long gone now. ]

I'll make you anything you like! A bit later. Not really banana daiquiri conversation, is it?

[ This is said with a soft smile, perhaps a bit less bright than usual. Because more important than the inventing of various cocktails, Red asked a question that deserves an answer, and he's edging closer to it. ]

He wanted war and death and destruction—no surprise to you. He wanted me to help bring the darkest days to everyone here, he saw...things, in my mind, things I've done, who I was, who I've been. He tried to make me, yes, and I resisted. Until the end.

[ He pauses again. It's not the easiest thing to speak of, the loss of agency and control, what he might have done. The memories conjured from the Time War, from the bloodiest battles the universe had ever known. ]

You don't want to hear this.

[ And yet, it needs to be said and he needs to be pushed. On some level, he trusts her to either push him on this, or give him that extra pause to allow for him coming around to telling the rest of it. ]

Edited (didn't like that wording) 2023-04-16 22:22 (UTC)

( Red offers him a soft smile back in response to the question. She might ordinarily toss in a joke about how anything can be turned into a banana daiquiri conversation or about how they need a beach and lounge chairs, but she doesn't want to interrupt very much. And the point is made. Her finger slides around the rim of her glass, the burn of the whiskey against her lips still.

That burn goes well with his next words, which sink down inside of her like stones in a lake, heavy.

War, death, destruction. No, it is not a surprise like it is not a surprise either that he might see into the Doctor's mind and see terrible destruction, the answer to those requests. She saw his aura when they met. She sees it now - like lava in its heat and destructiveness beneath the soothing blue and purple, the warmth that she knows.

And so there is no shock or surprise in her expression when he mentions those things being seen - only understanding without knowing the details of exactly what that means.

She tips the glass up to her mouth to take another sip and looks into the liquid until he speaks, and then her gaze lifts to his. She shakes her head, eyebrow raised as she continues: )

Do I seem like the type 't ask for what I don't want?

( Another pause, patient and quiet - they are both ancient, and she has never minded the quiet. She is here listening. )

Far from it.

[ There's almost the muted outline of a sigh in his words as he admits to it. The chance was slim, admittedly, but the instinct to protect himself by attempting to dodge it one more time was difficult to quell.

But no, no of course not. He knows her better than that by now.

What he has to say isn't anywhere near as terrible as it could have been. He saw that clearly in his mind's eye. But what he ultimately did isn't anything that sits easily in his hearts, either. ]

I resisted Rathakku, but I was overtaken by one of the Paladins who'd been sacrificed. It begged for help. [ What he isn't saying directly is that in this instance, he allowed for it. The Paladin was different from Rathakku and he could handle it, he'd thought. Well, he'd thought a lot of things in fact, and he was wrong. His inflated self-confidence led him to believe he could have resisted and that the entity might have been an unwelcome, but mostly harmless presence. He only agreed because he thought he'd be helping, and keeping anyone else from being possessed, anyone vulnerable and without the same defenses he has. ]

It wanted revenge and it was stronger than I'd anticipated. Ultimately, it forced me to kill a harpy and that seemed to satisfy it. Blood for blood.

[ For someone who hides and runs from the worst parts of himself, it's more than difficult to discuss, and yet they're close enough, the pair of them, that he feels she's owed the answer to her question. Even if he took the long way around. He doesn't say that so much of what the Paladin felt was so familiar to him; the loss of family, being the last, until he'd died himself. That loneliness, that want for revenge—he lost track of where his own thoughts ended and the Paladin's began. ]

( Red quiets as he explains. She sips at the drink in her glass, in her hand while he gets into the details that he has been avoiding, and she does acknowledge that he did not have to say a word at all. He could have continued to pretend, to dance away from answers, but for whatever reason, he gives the truth to her, and she appreciates it even as the truth is difficult to hear.

She knows what it is like to lose control - she was made to be under the control of someone else, but it's still-

It's still fucking difficult to be forced to be in the position to commit such violence, such pain. Her hand slides behind her neck. She finishes her glass, winces past the burn, intends to order more from the bartender in a moment, but first there's this.

Fuck, there's this. )

Blood for blood. ( Her voice is soft. Her hands are tight around the glass in her hands. ) It was a mistake - you know that, it doesn't help you to know it was a mistake, but it was.

Everyone makes mistakes. But that doesn't change what happened or how it feels. ( This isn't the space to reassure. It's the space to accept what happened, how it felt, all the rest. ) Some fucked up shit, huh?

I'm sorry. ( that she had no control, that he was possessed, that he was taken. )

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[audio] un: nah (forward-dated to the 3rd)

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