[Open + 1 Closed] Never Call Up...

[crushed_pearls]

Who: Erin Peters And People Who Noticed A Certain Event
What: Erin fuckin' died in late January and now I need a spot to stick the fallout
When: Late January to pre-excursion February
Where: Wherever you decide to drag her ass for this series of decisions
Warnings: Erin Fucking Died


1. Yes dear, the stove is always hot. [Cabin 134, Rezz Hour after death, closed to Helena]

Well, that's one bit of curiosity satisfied. Erin comes awake with a sharp intake of breath, hands flying to her ribs. She's alive, gloriously alive, her ribs aren't shredding her lungs into tatters and all of her blood is inside her body. There's a series of incoherent Fucking Noises as Erin tries to get up, stretch, talk, and breathe at the same time and ends up doing None Of The Above.

One thing at a time. Breathe.

Good!

Sit up.

Okay...good!

Aaaand Helena's awake. Fuck.

2. Even When It Doesn't Look Hot [WHENEVER, WHEREVER -]

So here's the thing: Bahamanuel is scarred by laser burns, Erin and Siffleur both died (and probably stained Bahamanuel with their blood in the process, who's gonna wash that poor boy?), and the entire thing - soundless - is available on video at Photos at Sea set to Material Girl just to really deprive everyone involved of even the slightest shred of dignity.

If your character has a comment on that...

Here ya go. Find Erin Somewhere, though she's often on the sports deck, in Windjammer, at the new infinite cheese store, at Tauva smoking and/or drinking, or at Hurikane just drinking. Interrupt her while she's listening to her DVDs. Accost her at the library while she's trading out her books. Shit, gossip about it with someone else without Erin being there at all, I'm not a cop.

Comments

[serialskiller]

Oh. That narrows down the conversations to one really easily.

"I believe you. But I want to understand what you mean by that, so I can support you as a part of my crew."

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's wings flutter, then wrap around herself in a defensive gesture. She draws her knees up to her chest.

"...There's a ceiling for me, Security. Take me to a world of peace, watch me beat my swords into plowshares, love me and protect me...I'll still be this. The nightmares won't ever stop. I won't ever be a normal human again no matter what you do to help me. Sometimes I'm not even sure if I can live the life of peace that I want. I like to kill - you get that? I'm never more confident, more safe, than I am over a fucking corpse. That's not fine. It's not okay."

[serialskiller]

"I don't want you to be a normal human. Anyone who does is missing out on the Erin you already are. Like, I know humans have a worldview that centers themselves as 'what people are', it's just a thing you learn to see and shrug off, but 'normal human' is hardly the only state of personhood."

You know, coming from someone who's only recently accepted its own personhood at all. On some level, it considers sending her to Omnic-Max to talk about that.

"That aside. I cannot picture what you mean by a 'life of peace'. I literally do not have the capacity to imagine a scenario that contains people and is utterly devoid of conflict, including violence. The closest thing to 'peace' I can picture is the paintings I do based on the Bob Ross videos. The paintings that have no people in them."

[crushed_pearls]

Erin smiles, shyly. She doesn't open up her wings. "I can't picture what I mean either, Security. Peter Smith says he'll tell me if he notices me living one."

[serialskiller]

"Well. That sounds like that's at least a little bit your problem. You can't work toward something without being able to conceptualize what that something is."

C'mon, Erin, you know this. Grand strategy isn't a grade, it's a scope; it's the level at which you identify your objectives and policies.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin visibly winces. "All I have to go on is what Peter said. Home is where you can feel safe. I...do not usually feel safe. Not for long."

[serialskiller]

"I know what you mean. But...you're getting pretty hung up on the words. Safe isn't ever a permanent state of being. For anyone. Life has risks, and even in the environment you cultivate for yourself..."

It trails off quietly, distracted by what it's hearing itself saying. This time, it's not about her, or about it.

A pause. A hint of a low laugh.

[crushed_pearls]

Curiosity makes Erin peek over her wings. "Something up, m'bot?"

[serialskiller]

"Just thinking about who else here is cultivating a space he feels safe in to call a home, here." There's a small significant glance upward, which from a human might mean 'God', but context might offer another answer here.

[crushed_pearls]

The realization hits Erin, and she snorts fondly. "Well, I'm not gonna be the one to tell him. I'm already pretty sure if anyone points out that we've got things in common he'll kick my ass just on principle."

[serialskiller]

"Probably. But...that might make a place to start from. What do you think he's doing wrong, in his attempt?"

Look, they're in a cabin, he's not going to be listening in.

[crushed_pearls]

"Easy. Dumbass is trying to hold himself sovereign, and that never works. There is no currency that can buy you containment from the living world, not power or money or glory or fear. He can't escape us any more than we can escape him."