Starstruck mingle!

[pocketpal]

Who: Crew of the glorious ship Starstruck
Broadcast: If people want??
Action: On the Starstruck
When: Early April

[ Hopefully no first aid kits necessary this time. ]

Comments

[twocomplex]

[More independent? He's not wrong. That earns the shortest laugh yet, and he releases the chair to step up beside him, instead. He'll lean back on a portion of the display with no controls, one ankle crossing over the other as he stands.]

You've been brusque since my arrival. I'm beginning to wonder if you're alright. You're certain our argument was over leaves? [Or is he not telling him something?]

I didn't think the action was so strange it required defending. We're sorted into crews here either way, so it matters not how independent I may be, unfortunately.

[noctiphile]

[Ugh. It's too early for this. Too early to try and tone himself down. With a groan, he leans forward, massaging his forehead. Buying himself time.

This was supposed to be his sanctuary. His one place free of Oren's haunting.]

As I said, the argument got tense. [He practically mutters it, scrubbing his face.] Forgive me. You... caught me by surprise.

[Distracted now, running his usual tests on the equipment. It's a nice excuse not to have to look at him.]

[twocomplex]

Tense how, Mattias? [He uses his name to seem closer, keeping his distance for now. That is, if 'keeping his distance' could be leaning against parts of his station.]

You have me concerned. [It doesn't make much sense, the way he's been. Either something's happened that he hasn't mentioned (with himself, with Nocta, perhaps?), or he really did touch a sore point in an argument.] Perhaps we should talk it out.

[noctiphile]

Oren. [He sighs, smoothing back early morning hair.] Please. I've work to do.

[Not really. The tests he's running don't need his attention. He's hoping Oren doesn't know that. That he's more ignorant to the functions of the fleet than he should be by now. It's a fruitless hope, but it's the only one he has. His mind is drawing a blank on an offense grievous enough for his behavior.] Another time, perhaps.

[Since they'll apparently have plenty of it, now. An image of the future flashes before him; Oren lurking in the kitchen as he eats. Oren sleeping in one of the cots, no more than three bodies away from him. His stomach knots at the thought.]

[twocomplex]

[That angers him. Trying to blow him off? To what, come up with some answers and lies to keep him away until the next realization? He pushes away from the controls, stepping a few steps behind Mattias' chair with his back to him.]

How long do you intend to keep me waiting, exactly?

[He words it like Mattias is being the cruel one here. The one tricking and abusing.]

Forgive me, but I find it hard to believe you're so quiet on a disagreement we've had. So you wish to hide something from me? It's difficult to want to speak to me?

[A pause, perfectly timed. Practiced.] That's fine. I'm not so unused to the sentiment.

[With that seed planted, he crosses the room but doesn't leave it, taking a seat in his own chair, instead.]

[noctiphile]

[A trap. How had he fallen into one so soon? He tells himself to resist yet when Oren pauses, he nearly lurches to fill the gap. At the last minute, he catches himself. It leaves him half-turned towards Oren. It's enough to be what he wanted.

Swallowing, his mind races for a topic of offense and clamps on to the first it finds.]

My family. [He practically blurts it out.] You insulted my family.

[twocomplex]

[That gets a genuine pause out of him. He rests his elbow on the arm of the chair, looking over.]

How so?

[noctiphile]

[The lie's getting too large. He needs to stop it. Pull it under control. Instead, he thinks of what would upset him the most.]

... My mother. You insisted her death was foolish.

[This isn't a truth he wants to tell. Not to Oren, not to anyone. He turns back to his station. Shuffles another stack of paper.] As I said, it got tense.

[twocomplex]

[Mother.

So it was that. It's a believable lie, and he has to look away so not to scowl at the idea of Mattias' relationship with his mother. He doesn't know how she died now, but if he'd said something like that, only for Mattias to defend it...

He curls his hand over the arm of the chair, leaning back in it as he thinks. Would emotion make him go so far as to ruin all his hard work like this? Apparently. Stupid, stupid.]

I'm sorry. [The words come out heavy, and thanks to his thoughts towards himself, they feel genuine, as well.] I won't ask how it happened, but you must understand... Years of my own experience make it difficult to separate myself from others.

[He's always been fine with lacing bits of personal truths into his lies.]

[noctiphile]

[It's both satisfying and terrifying to have Oren fall into his own web. He speaks with his own truths weaving them with the lie.]

Though I wish it were, understanding is not forgiveness, Prince.

[The test finishes with a beep and he touches the screen to see the results, speaking distractedly.] Time will be what heals.

[And grants space. Hopefully the half-truth would be enough to keep him at bay. He needed this deception. Needed the sanity it would bring. He had no other choice. The more he thought of it, the more it seemed. He needed this lie.]

[twocomplex]

[Was his mother so close that he'd get so angry as to abandon him? It's not entirely, he realizes, but it's enough to fill him with rage and envy. A free hand rubs at his face for a moment as he stares at his own controls.]

Time together, I hope. [He falls into it, certainly, but with his own concern.]

This will be good for the both of us, I'm sure of it.

[noctiphile]

[So close yet even still Oren could tailor the situation to his benefit. He was a mess of thread, picked and plucked apart until a single line was found. Until Oren could salvage his words for his own scheme.

Mattias sinks against his chair, wanting nothing more than to fade. It should be easy here, he thinks. Space seemed suited for such phantasms. Again, the monitor in front of him blinked and it took all his energy not to shove the damn screen out of view.]

Yes. [He sounds exhausted. Weary.] I'm sure it will.

[This will be the death of him.]

[twocomplex]

[The next few moments are filled with heavy silence. Oren stays in his chair, watches the blank raydar and thinks. Soaks in his anger while making it seem like remorse. When he's finally drilled in the point, he stands up without a word and heads towards the exit.

It's only at the door that he pauses, hand gripping the frame as he looks back.]

Well, I'll leave you to your work and have a look around.