...And also these.

[thespaceopera]

[ Calibration Rooms ]
( for N-Z characters )

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ROOMS BY CHARACTER

N - Q Nami Natasha Romanoff Nelkeila Tarid Nux Nyssa al Ghul Octavia Blake One Peggy Carter Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève

R - U R. Daneel Olivaw Rapunzel Remy LeBeau Riku Robin Redbreast Rogue Santanico Pandemonium Shawn Hunter Stefan (Alesci) Salvatore Steve "Orion" Rogers Steven Quartz Universe Souji Seta Stiles Stilinski Syeira Tadashi Hamada Tekhetsio

V - Z Vash the Stampede Vima Sunrider Vision (The) Wanda Maximoff Wrath Yamanaka Ino

Comments

[touchofrogue]

[Joy too. But she didn't feel particularly inclined to point that out. This was a far easier question to answer.]

I don't really know why I'm here. [A shrug, glancing around.] Last thing I knew, I was goin' to sleep... next thing I knew I was here.

[tothefly]

[Joy, too, but it's so much more fleeting than the rest. Hard to find, impossible to capture. Easier to keep even the word a secret, held between the lips. She gestures to the painting.]

Everyone comes here for a reason, but no one has to stay if they don't want to. The exit's over there.

[touchofrogue]

[Frowning, Rogue glances over her shoulder at where the figurine gestured. She glanced back.

Everyone comes for a reason?]

What do ya think that reason is?

[tothefly]

Usually, it's because there's something they want to see. Is there something you've come to see?

[Everyone comes to see a show. The metaphor should be obvious enough.]

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue thinks about this briefly and then shrugs.]

Is there somethin' you wanna show me?

[tothefly]

[Doll-Natasha seems to think for a moment, then stands, easily walking to the edge of the shelf and swinging down a level or so. Rummaging through the clothing piled on the second shelf down, she eventually pulls out a small bundle of brightly-colored cloth. A faceless rag doll, it looks like. She holds this in her arms, this bundle half her size, looking at Rogue.]

Podorozhnitsa dolls are made for children. Giving them faces is considered bad luck. Invites evil in. Have you ever seen one?

[She holds it out, offering the slightly-more-than-fist-sized bundle to Rogue.]

[touchofrogue]

No...

[And not sure what she thinks of a faceless doll (and finding a faceless doll all too metaphorically familiar), Rogue hesitates before, yes, reaching out to take the doll.]

cw implied waterboarding

[tothefly]

[The doll in her hand is lightweight, soft, almost dusty-feeling. If Rogue looks closely at the face, you can almost see the suggestion of features, always changing, the echo of a voice tickling at the edges of the mind. "Truth is a matter of circumstance. It's not all things to all people all the time. Neither am I."]

[A moment longer and there's the sound of gasping breath, long moments of it in between longer silences, the sound of water splashing. The longer it goes on, the more the listener may become aware of their own breathing, of restraints on their limbs. Of immobility and helplessness. Trapped. There's the sound of a different voice. Two voices, one older and harsh, one young, ragged but determined. "Tell me your name." "Natalie Rushman." "Make me believe you." "Natalie Rushman, born November 23rd--" "Nyet. Again." And then there's the water again, and a voice trapped behind it--]

cw implied waterboarding

[touchofrogue]

[It was not a unique trait among those who knew pain that they wished to protect those who definitely Should Not Know It -- children ranked highly on this list. And she hated hearing this - hated it.

Experiencing it was no picnic either, but that she was used to - the unpleasant memories of others.

Very carefully, she set the doll back on a shelf.]

Bastards.

[It's said with very precise elocution for such a Southern drawl.]

[tothefly]

[A shrug, at the word. Agreement, maybe.]

I am what they made me. What does that make me, would be the logical follow-up.

[touchofrogue]

More than the sum of your parts.

[It's an instinctive answer, no hesitation behind it, followed up only by the slight jutting upwards of her chin -- because screw them, that's why. As if they have the right to define us just because we were in their control for a time.

They can make us, they can mold us, but in the end once we're out and we look back -- then we are more than their fingerprints. We have to be.]

[tothefly]

[The comment, the determination with which it is spoken, has the unexpected result of making Natasha laugh. It's a full sound, surprisingly large for how tiny she is, rich with amusement and surprise. More than the sum of her parts. Optimistic, yes, but also accurate.]

Funny sort of math you've got there. I am more than what I was made to be? Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I wonder if I didn't just change the labels.

[touchofrogue]

You can wonder all ya want. [She shrugs, but her gaze doesn't waver.] Labels ain't always accurate. An' people are more than their pasts or their trainin'. Choices always matter.

[tothefly]

Of course they do.

We don't always make the right choices, though, do we?

[Still thoughtful. More philosophical than anything, but no less true for that--she's made her share of truly awful decisions. Chosen poorly. Chosen without caring about the consequences.]

[touchofrogue]

'course we don't. [That a little aggravated.] We're humans, not robots. But our choices are ours, the best we can do with what we've got... or the worst we can do with what we've got. Either way, they're ours.