driftfleet | Open mingle for the First Breath

She nods again understandingly, then shrugs her shoulders in reply to his question. "Mostly working on the moons. It seems I'm naturally in violation of vanity prohibition somehow, so one moon I can't really spend a lot of time on unless I cover myself almost entirely. The others though have kept me plenty busy.

"Aside from that, simply trying not to dwell on how much my memory has been tampered with."

"Because you're just beautiful," is what he says.

And then immediately flushes warm, which is luckily not entirely visible on his skin.

"Your memory," he says. "You mean your missing time?"

Cecil reacts in kind to his compliment immediately too, pink blooming across her cheeks as the revelation that Malak finds her attractive suddenly hits her. She's not sure why it affects her so strongly, but it's a little difficult for her to recover right away. She makes a show of tucking hair behind an ear, though she's really just trying to hide her blushing face from him.

"Ah... not just that, but when I first arrived three months ago, I realized parts of my past were missing too," she explains, slowly gathering her composure again. "They took away some of my memories from the foreign universe I was before this one. Things will happen here and I'll react much more strongly than I should— I get the feeling something similar has happened to me, but I can't remember what exactly."

A startled blink. He might have flirted a little more, but it catches his attention: "Another foreign universe?"

She's actually grateful she managed to accidentally distract him. It's been a while since she's been flirted with and, honestly, she was never really much good at proper, genuine flirting. Her skills were sub-par at best.

"Yes," she answers with a nod, the rosy tint in her face fading little by little as the conversation steers away towards far darker matters. "It was a place called Court. I'd been abducted from my home and brainwashed to believe that I had made a vooh tart choice to be there. They also rewired my brain and nervous system so that when I did certain specific acts, I would receive pleasant physical and emotional stimulus. And I would be paid whenever this happened."

She notably does not say what those acts were and she doesn't seem the most comfortable talking about Court.

"Everyone was encouraged to at least pair off with another in a contract of master and servant titles and when we did, our rewards would be multiplied for doing these things with our master or servant."

Edited 2015-02-13 10:50 (UTC)

"Slavery," is what he says, is the conclusion that he reaches. "They enslaved you so they did what you wanted." That's shocking - unheard of in the Spinward islands, though privately, Malak thinks the somewhat radical thought that what's done to men is near enough like it. But all women on the islands are free. No one would ever be forced to do anything, and it turns his stomach to think about it.

"It was under the pretense of Court being a competition," she goes on. "The more we completed our objectives, the more points we earned to progress through the ranks. Again, points would be doubled for completing objectives with a master or servant. Whoever reached the highest rank first, supposedly, would earn what was referred to only as the Queen's Power. It was said to be a power so great it could make the user's will reality, regardless of what that was."

It's possible, obviously, thinks Malak - the gods can have powers like that, terrifying as it is. But he doesn't think there's a way for mortals to become gods.

"Was it true?" he asks.

"I don't know for certain." Cecil shrugs a shoulder uncomfortably. She's suddenly rather upset, agitated thinking about it all— and realizing that there are so many gaps and missing pieces to her memory of Court that it's more disturbing than she originally thought. "I do not believe it was though. No one had ever reached that rank before and no one was even close while I was still there."

Edited 2015-02-17 02:19 (UTC)

He reaches out and touches her, his fingertips to her arm. "I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean to upset you." Women who are warriors may not like to admit it, usually, in his experience, but they do have emotions, and they can be upset. Sometimes it just takes a man, more emotional, quicker to anger and lust and more, to show them.

Cecil isn't like most women warriors though. Kain was that sort-- the type who buried everything and was good at it. For her part, she tried to be the same, but she always has felt her emotions far too keenly to ignore them entirely. She doesn't shrug off Malak's touch, but nor does she lean into it exactly. Her shoulders slump and she frowns more sharply, but she doesn't try to hide that she's upset.

"I know," she says softly. "It's fine, Malak. I don't blame you. It's not your fault. You couldn't have known and there's nothing wrong with asking questions." She takes a deep breath and slowly reaches up to wrap her small, white fingers around his hand where it rests on her arm. She squeezes reassuringly. "It's difficult... Sometimes I still have nightmares. I just can't always remember what they are."

He should have known, anyway. His thumb strokes over her fingers, and then he pulls away, not wanting to push the physical contact.

"I'm sorry, anyhow," he says. "We all have our scars."

She forces a smile. "I know," she says, "That's why mine aren't remarkable."

"They're all remarkable," he corrects her. "They all matter."

She laughs a little at his insistence, finding it endearing and recognizing that she is being a little hypocritical here. If their places were reversed, she would be saying the same things to him. "You're right-- I just don't know how to deal with mine, I suppose. There isn't anything I can really do about them and even if I did know, I'm not sure I should want to."

"There's never anything we can do about the past."

Something he has struggled with, himself. He still does, sometimes.

"Only what we do next." His eyes drop, then; he feels keenly his failure to move on from what's happened to him.

Seeing the expression that was just on her face reflected on his is awfully telling. She lifts a hand and comfortingly rests it on his back, rubbing lightly.

"Some things cannot be moved on from so much as they have to be lived through. Everyone heals differently."

"Some things aren't supposed to be wounds in the first place." He actually snaps this, a little too harshly, and in the next instant looks a little startled and a lot sorry.

She's startled herself even and she takes her touch away from him immediately, folding her hands in her lap and slouching her shoulders in an instinctive move to make herself look even less intimidating than she already does. She doesn't get up and leave though or snap back at him, realizing from how he looks back at her that he didn't mean it. Still, she's wary of causing another similar reaction.

"...No... I... I agree," she says, her voice much quieter and a touch more timid than he has ever heard it yet. That's all she says though.

He doesn't know what to say. He didn't expect anything to bring it out in him like that. Slides his head into his hands.

"I'm invisible where I come from," he says, softly. "Everything about me is invisible, except the girls."

Cecil still doesn't make any move to leave. Impulsively, she lifts a hand again to touch him comfortingly, but she stops herself just short of touching his head.

"The girls?"

He looks up to her.

"I never told you about my daughters?" he asks.

"You have babies?" She asks not in disbelief so much as surprise, then she shakes her head. "You didn't. But that explains all the cooking. I suspected you were used to preparing meals for more people than just yourself."

She falls quiet for a moment though, then adds on softly:

"You're not invisible to me."

"It's different here." His way of giving an apology, acknowledging her words, thanking her, even if he can't come out and say it quite yet.

"I have two daughters," he says. "Brinna is the elder; she's nine years, already drawn her first blood in combat." He is proud of her. "Viere is younger, only four."

Cecil isn't one to hold a grudge over something like this. She sympathizes with him, really, and she remembers some of the things that happened to her in Court that make his reaction earlier make a little more sense to her.

"Pretty names for strong, pretty girls, I'm sure," she remarks. "And you're right— things are different here. Most look at women, even those like myself, the way you are used to people looking at you."

Edited (Inappropriate icon eeeek) 2015-02-20 03:26 (UTC)

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