Sword-Law [OPEN + Closed to Helena]

[crushed_pearls]

Who: Erin Peters and YOU
When: Nov 11th & Onward
Where: Sports deck, Chatterbox, Various, Cabin 134
Summary: Catch-all, coping, and bothering people about magic
Warnings: Self-image issues & coping with them, likely discussions of violence and trauma, etc. Lass is a Changeling they go through some shit



A. There Is No Such Thing As A Sword [Sports Deck]

Erin tells herself she's not avoiding people. Look, she's still doing things around the ship, she's still eating out in public areas (nevermind her newfound preference for sushi, surely that has nothing to do with the way Mikabo seems half-abandoned after the slaughter on Halloween), she still makes her rounds to and from the library. She's not avoiding people. She's just recommitting to training, gotta keep up on it now that she's -

- You know, unwelcome on Tuesdays. Erin made her excuses to tactics class, nothing more accusatory than "I will no longer be able to attend due to unforeseen circumstances", and now she's haunting the sports deck just about every day but Tuesday, returning to it over and over. An hour here, two hours there, an entire day swallowed up just working on sword forms, soaking her clothes in sweat and stewing in her feelings with the only breaks being to get more snacks and water or, sometimes, juice raided from the bar.

If she's offered to spar with you before, you might get waved over if you find her here or show up on purpose after the pattern becomes obvious. Everyone else finds Erin uncharacteristically shy; a faint wave and then right back to drills.

But she's not avoiding people.


B. First Master Sweeping [Various]

Erin is, in fact, SO not avoiding people that she's decided to follow up on her desire to learn more about the magic of other worlds. There's so many folks she's wanted to talk to about this; Palamedes, Ylva, Skullduggery kinda (he hadn't seemed open to it but nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?). And that's not even getting into the people she's had the chance to meet since the party or before. Got a missed connection? Erin's interested, and might even have reached out - near a mealtime, during a break in her training, caught you out and about with a bout of the ol' insomnia after the 12th or so, she's not picky.

There's a definite sense that Erin's trying to distract herself from something. She is far too ready to just let someone infodump. Hell, she'll sit and listen to you play videogames or watch a movie.

The Weak Swordsman Casts Aside His Blade [Chatterbox]

Fuck it, we're trying exposure therapy. Catch Erin at Chatterbox a couple of times a day, unable to work the machine but perfectly willing to take up the mic with no instrumentals and get used to the idea that people might, you know, see her perform. Leave her unattended and her strong voice will float out of the karaoke club doing deep cuts of The Birthday Massacre, Evanescence, Within Temptation, Ghost, and a shockingly deep and wide base of sea shanties & pirate metal, with only her boots to slam out the beat against the singing stage.

She'll be a bit nervous if you walk up. Offer a drink and let her sniff your hand, will you?

A Sword Is A Nearly Useless Tool [Decks, Late Night Nov 12th Onward]

The insomnia is back, and no wonder. Erin's nightmares went and hit the gym while she was helping Ruby and teamed up with the Everything in October, and given her unwillingness to either steal sleeping pills or give another inch to alcoholism the compromise has become wanderlust. She's not hard to hear; those boots clomp in her distinctive too-loud stride, her gunpowder sizzles, but she does do people the courtesy of being quiet until she's a decent distance from the cabins. They've got sleeping to do, after all.

If you find her near the railing you might catch her, every now and again, hurling a nickel with supernatural strength, straight into the barrier of this little world.

Flee From The Sword [Cabin 134, Closed to Helena; November 12th]

November 12th Erin stays in after her standing appointment with SecUnit. Well, mostly stays in; she arranges a welcome package for Helena of sweets raided from the buffet and the shops, cleans the room up with significant elbow grease (and even more significant swearing every time she whacks her head on the furniture, that's gonna suck), and tidies the furniture up out of the walkways. This accomplished, along with a shower because hard cleaning, in a fit of irony, does tend to make one dirty, she shoots a text to Helena.

The contract with Miss Ruby has expired and I am quite excited to welcome you to your cabin. My thanks again for your understanding. I have the room set up but I'll be waiting in here to assist with any changes you want or need made. Do not rush on my account I have books to read and things to think about. Looking forward to your arrival.

What Do You Think Of Death? [Tauva, November 20th]

Two days in Crabb's cabin, trying to calm down. Hiding, really, though one could say 'letting people cool off' or even just 'thinking about what to do'. But Erin can't hide forever, and she won't.

Anyone she has texting contact for gets the same message, clipped and to the point. She might not be replying to texts back:

I will be in Tauva all day if you need me.

Everyone else can find her there easily, camped at a table near the center of the room, filling up ash trays with the cigars she's nursing and peeling through the bar's supply of orange juice. Got something to say? Here she is. Ready.

Erin's saber hangs on the back of her chair, peacebonded. It's not like she needs it, strictly, but...

It's a comfort, in this trying time.

I Would Like To Tell You That I Am A Noodle Vendor [Wildcard]

I'm available via Discord for any other ideas!

Comments

What do you think of Death?

[iwearnomask]

John arrives at Tauva relatively early. Though he hangs back and watches to make sure it's empty or low-traffic before he enters. There's the potential for this conversation to get personal, and John isn't there yet with most of the passengers onboard.

He enters, pauses some feet away from Erin to consider his approach, and then just... comes forward and puts his hand on the back of the chair opposite hers.

"Hello, Erin." John says, still not used to starting a conversation after living in someone's head for a time. "It's John. I got your message and... wanted to talk."

For how deep and nearly menacing his voice can sound, he's very clearly trying to keep it soft here. It's also something he's not used to. But he's trying.

[crushed_pearls]

"That's what I'm here for, John." Erin gestures for him to sit; she goes to take out a cigar and then realizes he's still wearing that mask. "...Is it terribly rude if I assume you don't smoke, considering your aesthetic?"

[iwearnomask]

John takes the seat, chuckling quietly.

"I don't smoke because I haven't had this body for long." he says.

Obviously, he isn't the only strange creature onboard, and Erin has her own mysteries, and... And they potentially will be sharing personal information, so some measure of honestly should be in play.

Speaking of which: "How are you able to see?"

Of John, sure, but he means in general, since it's obviously more than Arthur.

[crushed_pearls]

"I have an assistive device, the blindfold. But in my day to day it only gives me people with clarity and sharpness. I can see you just fine, for instance, but this glass of juice is essentially a watercolor penumbra with a vague label in my mind."

Erin leans back in her chair. "So...I, at the very least, was honestly grateful for your help back there."

[iwearnomask]

Interesting. If he knew the particulars of the blindfold's way of seeing, he wouldn't be surprised at all that she could see his mask so clearly.

As it is, this explanation is clear enough to satisfy him. He nods, and... Folds his hands on the table in front of him. She could probably see both of them clearly without the gloves.

... Hm, That's an idea for later.

"And I was glad to give it." John says, which is true if you don't look too close at why he was glad.

There's no easy way to dive into someone's terrible history. John feels like a fool for even trying. He sighs, and tried to think of a way to -- ah, common ground, of course. It's why he's here, after all.

"So. The Captain addressed us both with names we wish to abandon." he says.

Whether Erin understood his as clearly as John did depends on who wants spoilers he doesn't know. But the Captain still made it clear who he meant to call down.

[crushed_pearls]

"...Three nickels," Erin murmurs, sounding surprised. Could John have been the serial number? But...no, a machine person had answered that call, without protest.

Which leaves only one other.

"He did." A soft agreement; a conscious refusal to speak the name aloud. "Yours didn't seem to like being spoken much, in itself."

[iwearnomask]

He almost asks about the nickels - they'd certainly be easier to talk about than his name.

"It's not mine, not anymore." John says, his voice firm, but not aggressive, not like it might be about this normally.

But he isn't about to open his heart immediately. He looks at his hands.

"And yours... He called you a slaver." John says, as neutral as he can make himself sound. "But that was a title without context. And... If you're willing, Erin, I would like to know why it was given to you."

He knows - or can suspect - how others might react to her implied history. Hell, he could see how agitated Arthur was from his seat. John might even agree, but for all the horrid acts and aftermath he bore witness to, he knows there can be more below the surface. Or at least, that's what he thinks (or wants) here.

[crushed_pearls]

Several sarcastic replies, born of frustration and fear, get bitten back with visible effort. 'Probably all the slaving' nearly makes it to Erin's lips; she smothers it by attending to her cigar.

"...Do you know many gods, John? Personally, that is. Close enough to reach out and touch them, let's say."

[iwearnomask]

... Just how much can she see with that blindfold?

John's fingers press tight against the back of his hands. If they weren't gloved (and were both flesh), their knuckles would be turning white. That's the phrase isn't it?

"Yes." he says, and something bitter, defensive, and sharp leaks into his voice. "Or I did before, far too much."

... He thinks of Arthur, and the few times he tried to encourage John to talk. John breathes out and closes his eyes, and talks a little about himself.

"It's what I am trying to - move away from. Change from that world to something better."

There, is thst less one-sided now?

[crushed_pearls]

Erin nods, her expression softening. When she starts talking again there's a cadence to it; like someone telling a horror story, only she's not having any fun at all.

"Break the spiderwebs behind the old mill and you'll see the Thorns that ring the world fade into view around you. Fall into the open grave at the abandoned graveyard and you'll land amongst them, on a narrow path. They lurk behind mirrors and under the hills; open a door right and it swings wide into the thorny moor. Dance near the rings of stone to summon a portal; cross into rings of mushrooms at your own risk. And beyond the Thorns, past the high Glass Gates, is the Fairest of Lands where the gods of nightmare reign in a realm of unreason."

A drag. The smoke mixes with Erin's gunpowder haze when she exhales.

"I was thirteen when the Patriarch took me. I was fifteen when he said: serve me and you may go home. For thirty years I found him replacements, selling the innocent and the broken to keep slack on my chains, to him and to his lordly peers. I was their supplier, their slave-catcher, their killer, their mercenary. A poison legend, who preyed on her own kind, paid in secrets and sorcery, gold and dreams and magic things, and they called me Liz Malloy. The pirate with the pearl eyes."

Erin blows out a long breath. "...The man who defeated me gave me the chance to save myself. And against all odds, I took it. About a year and a half before I came here. But that title was well-earned, Mister Doe."

[iwearnomask]

John takes the information in. The beginning of the story is familiar, in parts, though not exactly the same circumstances... Or possibly, perspectives. Displacement into a new world, powers beyond comprehension, and the compromises made to survive.

That is what John recognizes in Erin's history. As terrible as her choices were for her fellows, they were made - at least at the start - with the hopes of survival and escape. And now, they are looked back on with regret, guilt, and the desire to do better.

It doesn't remove the harm done or erase what choices Erin made before her defeat and freedom, but it's a starting point that's more complex than plain greed or conquest. And... It's one John can relate to. He can't say how much or how little he expected to identify with, going into this conversation.

But the desperation to escape an unspeakably awful world, to keep oneself from going back... It's tempting to apply that to himself and his theft of Arthur's eyes and worse, but as with Erin's history, understanding does not absolve.

John nods.

"Thank you, Erin." he says. "I wanted to know where you were coming from before I made any decisions about you, and about helping you. And..."

He hesitates. It's hard, even after it's been established. "And, I wondered if - we were on the same path, so to speak."

[crushed_pearls]

"You sound like a man with a story to tell."

An offer, not a demand, spoken softly.

[iwearnomask]

An offer, and one he owes to Erin after asking for her story, and so he takes it.

"I don't know how much it's possible for me to explain." John says, and not just for where his memories blur or his emotions flinch back, but the actual, practical way of describing the Dark World and what came before it.

Hell, some of the things he saw with Arthur were hard enough to talk about the first time around. Time hasn't made thinking back to those things any easier.

John sighs. "For a very long time I have been the direct and indirect cause of harm for many people. And up until two and a half months ago, I didn't see any reason to care about that. Not with how little lives mattered."

"But I met A-" does she know Arthur? John could keep it vague, but since he's still not confident where they stand as 'friends', that feels hard to say too.

He settles on it, anyway. "-A friend. A friend who... helped me figure out what was important, how something meaningless could matter. A friend I want to be better for. Not just for him, but for... but for his world, I suppose."

John shrugs his shoulder. "So. I wish to keep improving, but the road is a steep one."

[crushed_pearls]

"Does it feel steeper now, away from his world?" The question has no judgement, no bite. Erin blows a faint trickle of smoke out of her nose and sighs. "...The people who helped me, when they had every right to do otherwise, they tried to discourage me from trying to recover for the sake of this person or that one. For my victims or for a lover or even for the man who spared my life. I was warned, sternly, that such a wish has to be selfish at its core, or when things don't go my way in the relationship I invest it in, it'll shatter. I'm still not sure if I understand the logic, but it feels...worth passing forward."

[iwearnomask]

At first, John thinks this is one of the ways he and Erin differ. But he gives it more consideration... He isn't trying to improve himself for just one person. Not exactly. He's been inspired, and he wants... He should be- should have been a better friend.

But it's more than that. The meaning he has found and wants to find in life can only be sought and shaped by himself, not under the direction of others. He would do much for Arthur, and his growth of character is, in part for him, but it's also for himself.

Granted, there was also a whole lot of other bullshit that he and Arthur were trying to get through first, and there's only so much of one's actions they can improve when they only have eyes, a hand, and an internal voice.

So ultimately, yes, they are different. But it's good advice all the same.

"While my friend has inspired me to change, I am also doing it for myself." John assures her.

"That said... I'm not sure. Coming here should have turned that steep path into a level field, but I don't..." John makes a quiet, frustrated sound as he realizes he might have to explain more of the exact situation he and Arthur left behind.

He sighs again, more of a slow breath out to collect himself, to find where to start.

"My friend is also here, and our relationship was hardly smooth even before we arrived." he admits at last, his voice sounding more blunt and less poetic or whatever.

Fuck it, might as well. If he's talked to others like he talked to Crichton, Erin will find out eventually, anyway.

[crushed_pearls]

"...Ah." The Comprehension that flows through Erin shows on her face, and becomes a sympathetic look. "And while it's cold to say it, my victims are far from here. I don't have to face down making amends to them, not as I am aboard this ship. You have no such luxury."

Erin tries to envision even just Shipmate Sally being here and gets a wringing sensation in her chest. "...You said you came to ask if we're alike. I'm forced to ask: to what end?"

[iwearnomask]

Ah. Right.

John nods again, and looks at Erin, his mask impassive as always. They may not be able to technically make eye contact, but it feels like the respectful thing to do.

And while he has the concept in mind, the overlap of people who have caused grave harm and are trying to do better, phrasing it in a way that feels accurate without being stupid is hard enough to stall him for a moment.

"I guess - to ask if you find it frustrating, too. I know it's not easy to change. I know it's harder the longer your history is. But I..."

Find it comforting, that someone else may be having as hard of a time as he is? John makes a short, frustrated noise.

"I wanted to see if there were others with the same struggle."

There. That sounds more palatable, doesn't it? And it's even true, since he's asking and all.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin sighs, and nods. Her cigar, left unattended, is burning down towards her fingers; she tilts her head down at it and then grinds it out in the ashtray with another, more frustrated sigh.

"...Things like me are made to get along with people," Erin admits. "My owner took a shy girl who only ever wanted to be left alone to read and learn, and he made her into a smiling doll. Clown-ass introductions aside I can smile, I can flirt. I don't like to lie, but I can. I know how to touch lightly or tell if someone doesn't want to be touched, to say what they want to hear, to lift them up or cut them down. That part isn't the hard part. Not being like that is hard. But..."

She picks up her knife to cut another cigar. Head turned away from John.

"Sometimes it feels like I need to do a fucking ethics paper before every decision. People get angry at me for perfectly understandable reasons and I have to consciously not turn their skeleton into fucking dust because it's hard for my heart to tell the difference between an emotional attack and a physical one. I am not kind to myself, in the silence of my mind, and the people who've chosen to care about me get hurt watching the way I cut myself metaphorically or literally. Sometimes I learn, very suddenly, that something I think is cool and normal actually is a sign of deep fucking damage that concerns people I talk to. Even minding my manners is a constant goddamn effort. You should have seen me back home, all bitchy one-liners and feral growling, rejecting in turn the people who had every right to reject me in the first place. So. Yes. It's hard. But every day I show up and try it, the next day is just that little bit easier."

[iwearnomask]

John listens. There are parts he's experienced, parts he knows he'll experience, parts that haven't occurred to him yet as something he'd experience. Thoughts he's had, and thoughts that he ignored as soon as they entered his mind.

The people that care about Erin are hurt watching her punish herself. Would Arthur feel the same way? Or would he feel it deserved? The fight in the Spirit Halloween points to one answer, but... the invitation to the weed party from Arthur's unhindered thoughts leads to another, even if John knows he shouldn't read too much into it.

It's frustrating.

He nods, and politely looks at the space somewhere between them while Erin looks away from him.

"It feels easier, some days. And then - with one conversation, I feel like whatever progress I made meant nothing, and I'm back at square one." John admits. "It doesn't help that this is the first time I've been able to speak to others like this."

Wait, should he elaborate? He knows instantly it won't make him sympathetic, everyone Arthur apparently ever spoke to made that clear.

But sense returns to him as he remembers just how much of her unpleasant history Erin has told him, and how vague he has been in return, so. He elaborates.

"Before, back in our world... I met my 'friend' when he opened a book, which freed me from the dimension I had been trapped in, and in escaping I entered his mind and took his eyes."

It's an inelegant summary, but he can give more details once he sees if Erin does or doesn't recognize this story.

By tradition I declare: damn OCs and their one-liners

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's eyebrows emerge All The Way Up from under her blindfold. Instead of replying she turns her head so John can see that expression on her face and holds it without breaking 'eye contact' (well...you know...) while she strikes her match, lights her cigar, and starts smoking it.

false that was clearly two lines

[iwearnomask]

Okay, well. Hard to say if that's recognition, but...

John sighs, and he rubs his knuckles as he expands on the story.

"For years - I think, it was hard to tell when it felt endless - I was trapped in a place known as the Dark World. It was a sort of dumping ground for all the worlds. Things that died, things that were ejected, things displaced by the branching choices of the universe. It was a place of suffering, danger, of things impossible to comprehend - it was hell. I cannot remember how much of a choice I had in my exit, but I did not feel remorse for what it cost to escape."

John shuts his eyes here. He hates admitting to this, but unlike Arthur, Erin doesn't already know it.

"I had killed my friend's partner, I took his vision for my own, and I essentially became a voice in his head. A voice only he could hear."

(It doesn't occur to John to point this out or say it, but it sure is an explanation for his described audio experience)

There is no line counting in Ba Sing Se

[crushed_pearls]

"...Yeah, that's not exactly the ideal meet cute." Erin sighs, heavily. "I can't. Give a lot of advice here, John. I never figured out how to handle the exactly one of my victims I ever met again and I fucking lived with her. I'm gonna have to die without resolving that, and that's just how it is. So...I suppose the question at hand is, if you ask your friend what you can do to make things right, and he says nothing, what then?"

[iwearnomask]

"Yeah, no, I don't expect advice for that. I imagine ours is a unique situation, even for this ship." John says, trying to keep his voice dry and not sarcastic.

Actually, he tries to soften the dryness out of it, too: "Not that I don't... appreciate the thought. Thank you."

Now, with that out of the way, he's forced to look at Erin's question. He scoffs quietly before he means to, leaning back in his chair and pulling his arms in with him.

"He'd tell me to give him his eyes back, probably, which I can't do." John says, already annoyed but - but that's not the point. He shuts his eyes, jaw clenched, and thinks about how he feels about this question.

He only had the time to think about this question after arriving on this ship, and even then, only after he learned that the ship wasn't ordinarily like it was in October. And in a way, Arthur's sound rejection of him at the start would count as saying 'nothing', didn't it?

So John sighs, short, frustrated.

"I'd keep trying to better myself, if that's what you're asking." John states. "I had my realization by being with him, but I want to change because - I don't want to be what I was anymore."

It's true, but... If he took a second to reflect on any of the worst arguments he had with Arthur, on that fateful moment before they ended up here... Perhaps there is, a little bit, a hope that Arthur might like the result of John's efforts. Or something. He doesn't know, he just -- He doesn't know.

[crushed_pearls]

"I wasn't meaning to repeat myself exactly," Erin muses. "More...thinking about what it means for building your life here. You can't avoid each other forever, after all. Can you keep the peace, even when those feelings crave resolution? Let him be who he'll become without you? Be...forgive the metaphor, but, amicably divorced?"

[iwearnomask]

John rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, starts to say "He's the one who-" and then the words 'amicably divorced' hit.

He sits up straighter, his mouth open to speak but with too many words trying to get out at once.

"Fuck amicable, the second he knew I was here he fucking attacked me, and his new friend had me at gunpoint-"

Which is another thing- "He was here hardly a month and replaced me - he 'doesn't need me' anymore-"

Beyond that, beyond being needed- "Like everything we went through together meant nothing, that I was just the same as when we met, like I'm a fucking parasite-"

And this is all that first negative interaction, but "-And I would give Arthur his fucking space but then he invites me to get fucking high at a party but doesn't tell his friend to lay off - everyone has a god damn problem with me going out but I'm fucking trying anyway-"

John remembers to bring them back on track, and with a sharp breath in and out, he finishes: "No, the separation was hardly 'amicable'."