who: helena and others! what: variety catchall for the month. when: end of july/ all of august. where: across the boat. warnings: likely discussions of death.
Ava's not adjusted to dying, only on her third. But she is to killing, the numbness of the routine. So she understands enough the other side of it, what point Helena is making.
"I've always been expected to work through my pain. It's a luxury now to properly fall apart. For me, that's what makes it okay. Knowing I have somebody that will help me through it."
"Right, it's okay in that respect. But...you're not expected to immediately be fine. You can be in pain. And that's why I think having someone there is so very necessary. Or at the least, close within reach."
She's quiet, before she huffs, something that's not quite a laugh.
"It's only happened twice here. But both times...I haven't felt alone."
So Helena does support having somebody there with you through the aftermath... their okays finally aligning to similar sentiment.
"I... felt alone the first time. After the Battle Royale. I didn't expect to come back. There were things I hadn't planned to live with." Three days of heightened paranoia on no sleep, witnessing the deaths of the younger passengers she was trying to protect. Killing Crabb out of a twisted sense of mercy, the absolutely feeling of dread at the idea of being the one to 'win.' It had been the only way out.
Waking had been an absolute nightmare.
"But then. Skulduggery and Maximilien. They... intervened."
Her smile is kind, then, willing to let go of the other part of the statement. Whatever happened, whatever Ava hadn't intended on bearing, she's borne it for long enough that Helena's own judgement isn't needed to enter into the equation.
"They were," she confirms fondly. "I always worry what would have become of me if they hadn't. Like what became of those passengers of the previous voyages."
What defines them so differently from those before? She can't imagine they were all so awful individually... but perhaps they had nobody like Skulduggery. Like Fio. Like Helena.
"I was so afraid that it was proof that I hadn't changed at all. That even away from SHIELD I would only be good for killing. That's what I have to be careful of. More than the fear of death, but what I become in the face of it." She has to be okay because she can't afford what happens if she isn't.
"As long as you keep that in mind, I don't think you'll become what you fear. Even if this place asks you to kill again, occasionally, that's not all you are, not all you're good for. You're Ava, and you're so much more than what the people that hurt you thought you would be."
Hadn't they met in a way that proved that? Her, flying as though she was something from a fairy tale, a spirit of goodness and happy thoughts. Far, far from being solely a killer.
Keeping it in mind in the relative safety of her room is far easier than preventing herself from snapping under pressure. But having it reinforced helps.
"And you're good for more than just dying," she returns. "I think as long as we remember this is... for a purpose. A way forward. And not just punishment for our inability to be better." Or is that just her.
"No. But I will be displeased if they don't recognize that them being able to stay back depends entirely on having a willing team who can hold off everyone being compelled to contribute."
A beat, but a small chuckle.
"Of course, them being irritated at us for going and in general trying to push back and refusing to contribute also should generate energy, but don't tell them unless you want to cause a paradox."
"I'll give them the benefit of the doubt," Ava begins. Because she knows she has a tendency to anticipate these sorts of negative sentiments from the 'opposition.'
"That they'll at least be wise enough to not express such to me."
The aftermath of the trial she didn't even attend still provides her with annoyance whenever she thinks back on the confrontations. "But yes, the joke really is on them."
"No one's been truly worthy of a proper scolding. If something turns up and you're not there, I'll try and send you a message so you can observe."
It's a funny mental image. Helena about to get angry, and then texting Ava first, making the other person wait.
"And don't worry about Darcy. You two seem to have resolved things, but I also won't hesitate to say something there if problems arise. I care for her, but I won't stand for a dear friend being treated like that."
Darcy likes her honesty, but part of that honesty is the capacity to say if Darcy's gone too far, either towards herself or someone else. It's understood between them.
"Nobody?" Ava sounds surprised. She finds a good portion of the ship incredibly tiresome. But Helena is far more tolerant than herself.
"Ah, not worried about Darcy," Ava reassures, because they had resolved things over failed macaroni. It was her own fault anyway, wasn't it. It'd be more appropriate for Helena to chastise her. But it was meant more as a tease on the subject of them dating, not a reopening of that wound.
"It's...coming," is the most honest answer she can give. In this, she seems every bit the uncertain young woman she really is.
"We're trying to be honest, and avoid misunderstanding. Getting to know each other in this respect as opposed to merely friends. And...I have no idea what I'm doing in the slightest."
Her shoulders slump a little. This is the sticking point, the one she's trying to ignore - that so many years of thinking that such close relationships weren't going to happen for her may have left her uncertain how to proceed, or what to do.
Darcy doesn't make it easy to avoid misunderstanding, in Ava's experience. But Helena is a better communicator than her. Sweeter and gentler. So she imagines she has more luck, gets the benefit of the doubt.
"I think it's best to not know what you're doing," Ava claims cheerfully, as somebody who came onto the ship with no experience with even friendship much less anything romantic. "It's more natural, isn't it. Fumbling your way through without cheat codes."
"Mn, no not that sort of cheat. Like... a shortcut or secret formula. That bypasses the typical resistance you might face," Ava suggests. "Like if you know certain psychological tactics to get what you want out of a person?" Then it just sounds manipulative. Rather than a genuine building of a relationship.
But even so, it seems wrong to do that to someone else.
"Fumbling through is exactly how it feels, though. Awkward and strange and like I'm not sure where I'm supposed to step, how I'm supposed to act. It..."
Taking a breath, she sets her cup on the table.
"No, if I keep going down that path, I'll be horribly selfish and dump a confusing mess in your lap."
"Helena, you've always let me be as messy as possible," she reminds. "And never once made me feel bad for it. Even if you haven't allowed me to get away with... self-defeat. It's not selfish to want to talk it through. If you need."
"...it's almost silly to bring it up, though. Since I know it's not...no one would hold me to it here."
She protests to get it out of her system, but ends up leaning back further into the couch.
"But where I came from...I wasn't ever encouraged to think about things like relationships. Girls like me weren't supposed to. It was expected that I'd live my life on my own in that sense - not to flirt, not to court, marriage unthinkable. After all, a blind woman could never be a proper partner."
She couldn't take care of a house, a spouse, or children, so it was thought. So better to not think about anything she couldn't have at all, to not let any creeping sprouts of affection grow so that the absence wouldn't be as painful. Here, she knows it's not true - for god's sake, her roommate is a prime example of that - but some of the ghosts still want to dig into her shoulders like her tutor's nails.
A sad glance down as Helena talks, because so many of those words could have been her own. "It's not silly," Ava insists softly. "But. I do know what that's like, to grow up hearing how I'm not fit for the world, unable to experience all the things normal people got to have... it damaged us in a lot of ways, made us feel unlovable. Broken. I convinced myself that it was all stupid anyway, as a defense mechanism." And she knows they've brushed upon this topic before.
"You're right, Darcy wouldn't hold you to such a thing. But like our conditions, we have to overcome the limitations that others set upon us too. They're far more debilitating. But god, it feels so good to prove them wrong."
"It makes me scared," she admits quietly, hands folding in her lap. "What if I just end up proving them right?"
If she messes this up, and proves she should have never messed with it. If she winds up useless, unable to help, needing constant aid and constant pity. If she just drags her down.
(In a way, she worries this about her other close ones as well. If they'll ever get tired of her, if she needs too much from them.)
"No, Helena," she disagrees softly with that line of thinking. Because she's caught herself in it so many times. "You have the right to struggle and mess up the same as everyone else, to take chances and learn from them. My first relationship didn't work out. Neither did Darcy's. They were insistent on becoming a nun right before you two got together." Though she has no idea if Darcy shared such plans with Helena.
"It's not indicative of failure on anyone's part. Sometimes you can do everything right but it's... it's not always going to work out. Because we're all weird and complicated."
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"I've always been expected to work through my pain. It's a luxury now to properly fall apart. For me, that's what makes it okay. Knowing I have somebody that will help me through it."
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She's quiet, before she huffs, something that's not quite a laugh.
"It's only happened twice here. But both times...I haven't felt alone."
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"I... felt alone the first time. After the Battle Royale. I didn't expect to come back. There were things I hadn't planned to live with." Three days of heightened paranoia on no sleep, witnessing the deaths of the younger passengers she was trying to protect. Killing Crabb out of a twisted sense of mercy, the absolutely feeling of dread at the idea of being the one to 'win.' It had been the only way out.
Waking had been an absolute nightmare.
"But then. Skulduggery and Maximilien. They... intervened."
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Her smile is kind, then, willing to let go of the other part of the statement. Whatever happened, whatever Ava hadn't intended on bearing, she's borne it for long enough that Helena's own judgement isn't needed to enter into the equation.
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What defines them so differently from those before? She can't imagine they were all so awful individually... but perhaps they had nobody like Skulduggery. Like Fio. Like Helena.
"I was so afraid that it was proof that I hadn't changed at all. That even away from SHIELD I would only be good for killing. That's what I have to be careful of. More than the fear of death, but what I become in the face of it." She has to be okay because she can't afford what happens if she isn't.
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Hadn't they met in a way that proved that? Her, flying as though she was something from a fairy tale, a spirit of goodness and happy thoughts. Far, far from being solely a killer.
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"And you're good for more than just dying," she returns. "I think as long as we remember this is... for a purpose. A way forward. And not just punishment for our inability to be better." Or is that just her.
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"It makes me resent the idea less than I might have. I'm not happy to have to do it, but...I'm glad we still have a ship to come back to."
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"Rent is always due," she says with a strained sort of laugh. "And I won't call the others freeloaders."
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A beat, but a small chuckle.
"Of course, them being irritated at us for going and in general trying to push back and refusing to contribute also should generate energy, but don't tell them unless you want to cause a paradox."
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"That they'll at least be wise enough to not express such to me."
The aftermath of the trial she didn't even attend still provides her with annoyance whenever she thinks back on the confrontations. "But yes, the joke really is on them."
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It never had expired, after all.
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"I still have never seen you berate anyone, I feel deprived."
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It's a funny mental image. Helena about to get angry, and then texting Ava first, making the other person wait.
"And don't worry about Darcy. You two seem to have resolved things, but I also won't hesitate to say something there if problems arise. I care for her, but I won't stand for a dear friend being treated like that."
Darcy likes her honesty, but part of that honesty is the capacity to say if Darcy's gone too far, either towards herself or someone else. It's understood between them.
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"Ah, not worried about Darcy," Ava reassures, because they had resolved things over failed macaroni. It was her own fault anyway, wasn't it. It'd be more appropriate for Helena to chastise her. But it was meant more as a tease on the subject of them dating, not a reopening of that wound.
"How is that coming along, between you?"
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"We're trying to be honest, and avoid misunderstanding. Getting to know each other in this respect as opposed to merely friends. And...I have no idea what I'm doing in the slightest."
Her shoulders slump a little. This is the sticking point, the one she's trying to ignore - that so many years of thinking that such close relationships weren't going to happen for her may have left her uncertain how to proceed, or what to do.
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"I think it's best to not know what you're doing," Ava claims cheerfully, as somebody who came onto the ship with no experience with even friendship much less anything romantic. "It's more natural, isn't it. Fumbling your way through without cheat codes."
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She's from before video games, Ava.
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But even so, it seems wrong to do that to someone else.
"Fumbling through is exactly how it feels, though. Awkward and strange and like I'm not sure where I'm supposed to step, how I'm supposed to act. It..."
Taking a breath, she sets her cup on the table.
"No, if I keep going down that path, I'll be horribly selfish and dump a confusing mess in your lap."
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cw: historical ableism
She protests to get it out of her system, but ends up leaning back further into the couch.
"But where I came from...I wasn't ever encouraged to think about things like relationships. Girls like me weren't supposed to. It was expected that I'd live my life on my own in that sense - not to flirt, not to court, marriage unthinkable. After all, a blind woman could never be a proper partner."
She couldn't take care of a house, a spouse, or children, so it was thought. So better to not think about anything she couldn't have at all, to not let any creeping sprouts of affection grow so that the absence wouldn't be as painful. Here, she knows it's not true - for god's sake, her roommate is a prime example of that - but some of the ghosts still want to dig into her shoulders like her tutor's nails.
Re: cw: historical ableism
"You're right, Darcy wouldn't hold you to such a thing. But like our conditions, we have to overcome the limitations that others set upon us too. They're far more debilitating. But god, it feels so good to prove them wrong."
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If she messes this up, and proves she should have never messed with it. If she winds up useless, unable to help, needing constant aid and constant pity. If she just drags her down.
(In a way, she worries this about her other close ones as well. If they'll ever get tired of her, if she needs too much from them.)
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"It's not indicative of failure on anyone's part. Sometimes you can do everything right but it's... it's not always going to work out. Because we're all weird and complicated."
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