Albedo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
purgatio) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
insomnis_veritas2012-11-22 01:33 am
purgatio) wrote in insomnis_veritas2012-11-22 01:33 am
Entry tags:
there's a countdown for all.
[Scorched network post, Max's broadcast mind--specifically:]
"Look--I have an expiration date. We all do."
We.
"What do you mean, we all do?" you ask.
"All of us experiments have built-in expiration dates. When someone's time is close, it shows up on the back of their neck."
So you're going to die. No matter how hard you fight, they're going to murder you. They've sabotaged you from the inside, killed you before you could even start living, and now… You wonder how soon. Recombinants don't typically last long.
Even then, you hardly feel any concern for yourself. Rather, you make a mental note to check the necks of your Flock once you get back to them.
God, you hate this place.
"Look--I have an expiration date. We all do."
We.
"What do you mean, we all do?" you ask.
"All of us experiments have built-in expiration dates. When someone's time is close, it shows up on the back of their neck."
So you're going to die. No matter how hard you fight, they're going to murder you. They've sabotaged you from the inside, killed you before you could even start living, and now… You wonder how soon. Recombinants don't typically last long.
Even then, you hardly feel any concern for yourself. Rather, you make a mental note to check the necks of your Flock once you get back to them.
God, you hate this place.
no subject
The words remain unspoken. Max will not give him honesty as long as false hope can substitute, because that's the way things hold together. That's how people go on, fooling themselves and their loved ones, insisting everything will be okay up until the last moment when it all comes apart. Even if she were to die, she would promise around the blood: it's okay, I'll be right back, don't worry.
His lips are soft and heartbreaking. Her chest clenches, memory enriched by little arms around her neck, soft kisses on her cheek, the giggles of those mischievous little monsters she'd chased around and taken care of so many years. She'd given everything to them, always would, and in some way does the same for Albedo. And what he would receive in the end is no different than what her flock would be given, and that is failure, fallibility, and death. Her eyes sting.
Don't. Don't cry, damn it. He'd know it's all fake. He would know her fear and uncertainty. Max would not let it in.
Her palm slides from his kiss to the back of his head, holding him still, so that she can lean forward and press her lips to his forehead. In the gesture is a sort of pact that, in the moment, she can not herself put into words; a promise to work her hardest, to be invincible. It's devotion for devotion, the sort of pledge an older sister would give, knowing they are mortal but pretending otherwise to comfort their close one.
She pulls away, façade maintained through a practiced grin.]
I'm not leaving.
[His hand is taken, tugged on.]
We are. Let's head home.