there's a countdown for all.

[purgatio]

[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.

Comments

[purgatio]

[ The words ring in his skull, and echo hollowly. Of all of the arguments to be chosen, right and wrong, good and evil, are likely the worst. The ones least able to affect, least able to cause meaning.

That's not what nothing means!

She is so wrong.

Albedo laughs then, the broken sound of mourning curdling up from his throat to burst out in a rush, growing to something frantic and amused, and he feels the taint coiling upward at the pain, his own, at the wording, hers, and Albedo allows it.

He closes his eyes and goes limp, hands dropping from hers.

When they open, there exists a florescent glow to match the mad grin. ]

Something good, is it? Have you forgotten that I am the villain, Maximum Ride? That I was the one who spoke of wolves and sheep?

[ It's a ridiculous contradiction, the demeanor shone now to the one that existed only moments prior.

It's a way to escape, to hide, and Albedo relishes it. ]

I'd rather spend my time unshackling humanity from their weak ideas of culture, deconstructing their methods of civilization. If you'd like me to do something with my time--

[ And the word is hissed out. ]

--Perhaps I should spend my days destroying everything I see as false. Ah, but--

[ The rant pauses; he views her carefully. Smiles smugly. ]

I'd be destroying myself in the end as well, wouldn't I? For regardless of your beliefs, darling, I am nothing but a lost cause waiting for an end.

[lolwhatfuture]

[That bright glow is turned on her, violet and dangerous, and she remembers a boulder smashed to nothing, a bright force that shoved her away, and Max flinches, wide-eyed. She can tell then that he's on the verge of something, of a breakdown or savagery, and while she can't determine the more likely outcome she knows it has to be cut off before it can burst from him.

He's let go of her hand, and it's just as well. It must be instinct that draws her arm far back, that causes her to snarl, teeth bared, and bring her open palm around in a powerful arch to make contact with the side of his face. At the same time her other hand grabs the front of his shirt lest he stumble backward, because she isn't done. He has to stay and look at her, face her as her fight response kicks in and pushes her to strike him with anger and, while she won't admit it, a touch of fear.

Riding on the heels of the resounding 'crack' her strike will make is Max shouting, furious and nearly shaking with adrenaline. She knows it's dumb, knows it's against self-preservation to push at him when he's already teetering, but calculating thought is so rarely what drives her.]

Shut up! Shut up! You don't have to be a villian, Albedo; it's not like the universe decides!

[And it's terrible, the pain in her chest, because for the briefest second she sees Ari in him again, tangled up in pain and hatred and loss, needing something to draw him back to sense. And it had been at the end, when it was too late. Max didn't think she could watch Albedo do the same; destroy himself until the end, when there was no time left to turn back.]

And if you're such a lost cause, why do you bother with me when I'm the good guy? Stop being so above it all and open your damn eyes. You have a choice!

[purgatio]

[ His careful baiting is taken, absorbed, swallowed down in absolutely the most perfect way-- She turns to violence, then, to expressing herself through pain, and he had thought it before--laid it within his mind before--how much she is like Rubedo at times, how blindingly, beautifully, destructively, she shines, she destroys, oh look how she burns.

And Albedo is ice.

His cheek stings and she is still yelling at him, holding him up, holding him to her, and he could lash out, he could let go, he could let up, destroy her, destroy himself-- He could crumble into nothing and break into tears, but he wants--and here is the strange truth of it, Albedo wanting--he wants her to understand, wants her to know him even if she cannot accept it; Albedo wants her to see him.

Past the bravado and the dramatics, past the differences of opinion and culture, past the contaminated subject of black of white. Past her view of good and his of evil, past humanity and angels and devils.

Albedo does nothing in response. He waits until she's blown herself out before he speaks, perfectly still and sane, lacking all reactions of before.

Violence prompts many a thing, and to Albedo, it only speaks in truth. ]

Listen to me.

[ A quiet, low voice, calm and succinct, nothing that should come from a twelve-year-old. ]

I decided.

[ And he smiles then, a beat and only, almost kindly. ]

I decided it. I was given the role and I accepted it with everything that I am. I'm lonely. You know that. And in that choice, there was a way for me not to be alone. You understand that.

[ He knows that she does, even if she doesn't want to. ]

I "bother" with you, because you are precious to me. Because when I'm with you, I don't have to think about my brothers or never dying. I don't have to be alone.

[lolwhatfuture]

[Precious.

That word carries weight with it, and a dolor drags behind, so heavy that it brings her shoulders slowly to slump and her fingers to finally release him.

Is that what stays his hand when she shouts and shakes him and argues? Is it that he sees no use in wasting his power on stifling an angry girl, or because he finds her dear, precious, and would rather put up with her outbursts than be without?

Max cannot so easily say such things. She can't tell him that is also why she stays and can not let him hurt himself, and why...]

Me?

[It comes out coarsely, because even if he has not necessarily said so, even if he doesn't realize what he's said, her mind is working. He wants evil, and destruction, just as Ari had wanted to hurt and hate. And it is possible that she cannot understand Albedo, after all, but that it is Rubedo, who had failed to love, that she can relate to.

But if he doesn't have to think about those things so long as she's around... It comes down to a simple equation, really. It's her or death, and as daunting as the thought is, she will take responsibility for Albedo a thousand times over. She will choose despite her Flock, as she has before, because she won't sit around the rest of her life wondering if he had done it. She won't face coming to a city like this again someday without having him there to greet her.]

Then-

[She squares her shoulders to appear strong again, as well as to fend off argument.]

Then stay with me. I've kind of got this big project at home, you know? And I could use someone who...who knows stuff.

[She turns her head away, unable to face the mockery or distaste that might come across his face, and she shrugs as if it were no big deal, as if she weren't returning his feelings in a roundabout way because she can't find the words.]

You woudn't be alone. I'd keep you busy.

[I'd take care of you.]

[purgatio]

[ She releases him from her hold, and Albedo straightens on his feet. Listens to her formulate her words and offer up an excuse, and for a brief, fleeting moment, Albedo feels something close to sorrow, something much like apology. Nothing to be said, and yet--

He grins, bitterly, attempting for lightness. ]

You seek to bring me home with you? I don't think that's how it works. We're thrown about the worlds, and if we find ourselves lucky enough to return to whence we came, we go it alone.

[ It's simple, really, to Albedo at least. A homeworld is only fit for its denizens. There was a reason that Nuadoria's core had treated them like a virus, an illness. The city, that world, hadn't wanted them there. The Magisters basically claimed the same.

Regardless. This is an excuse. He will do her the respect of the truth. ]

I have... things to do where I came from as well. Eventually. When the time comes. If we're able to return at some point, I need to go back.

[lolwhatfuture]

[So it would be death, then. She grits her teeth, and just as quickly as the anger had vanished it makes a reappearance.

She knows he's probably right, and that even if he wants to it isn't likely they can choose where they went once they're granted passage home. But it still hurts, and she reacts the only way she can: with a petty attempt to hurt him back.]

Fine, then.

[Her head whips back towards him, teeth bared in a snarl.]

Do what you want. See if I care!

[The final word is punctuated with a harsh ramming of her shoulder into his as she shoves passed Albedo and away from the house. It's not much, and she doesn't expect him to be fazed, but it's the only way she can express the sting he's delivered without sacrificing her pride.]

[purgatio]

[ He accepts her reaction as it is, lets her slam past and away before raising his voice so she can hear. ]

You leave so easily. Perhaps this is something I should remember.

[ Away from this place, from all cities and worlds that they have been shoved in--those conversations are off-limits. Their own "homes," their respective worlds--those are places they will return to separately.

Albedo only cares about now. About these worlds and these cities and these places and this girl. If it was otherwise, he would spend his days trying to get back, and from the start, from when he originally met Dai, Albedo had viewed this as an escape.

And it was one. It was an escape from a fate that was determined. An escape that would eventually end. But it hadn't yet. Not yet.

And she needed to understand that somehow. ]

[lolwhatfuture]

[She stops as if he's struck her, and hates how childishly galled by the unfairness of it she is. Max raises her voice, as well, though more than is necessary.]

At least I always come back.

[Turning back towards him, taking a few more steps backwards, away, she has to stop. She can't understand--at least not yet--but wants desperately to wrap her mind around something that she can settle with. Something other than impending loss.]

I'm not the one who's going to someday just never come back, and leave the other person thinking about that for the rest of their life!

[Her voice becomes higher, if less loud, and it's embarrassing, and why she wants to leave: to spare him the pathetic sight of her not only upset, but wounded. Because, grudgingly, she has too much respect for Albedo to want to let him see her so completely worked up.]

You'll get, what, a few hours of me being gone? That sure compares to someone you care about being--! [She kicks a small stone in no particular direction, furious.] Oh, forget it! What difference does it make?