Post by Swith on Jan 19, 2016 15:08:47 GMT -4
NOMINATION 4: Regret
Nominated by: Cerillium
Notes by Cerillium: "Three years (IRL!) have passed as characters Septimus Itum (a cyborg diplomat and former-torturer of the Confederation) and Neste Trilb (a biomachine construct from the Nifidium) sort their species differences, feelings, and cultural attitudes. Finally together after so much inner and environmental turmoil, Itum must now cope with the fact that his beloved was felled in battle. As a political figure functioning during a time of absolute crisis, he put aside his personal needs in order to keep the entire cast from crumbling. Now, finally, he's able to take a moment to see his sweet Neste on what might very well be her deathbed. Regrets. (What a pity she later dies.)"
The guards, sensing that they were not needed, began walking away, their steps emphasized so as to alert the Representative that they were departing. He didn't bother to acknowledge them; he knew the mayor and where to find them. They knew of his gratitude.
But did Neste?
Septimus sputtered.
Rodney in a green suit, calling Neste a ho, and then telling him he was responsible for the loss of the exo.
Wasn't he? He'd been one of the ones in charge. If he had just had his affairs more properly in order, had coordinated the defense better...
If only that goddamn grass hadn't grown out of nowhere...
"You refused to take possession. That's how you all are, all about fucking and sucking, saying how we're bad because we treat them like slaves, but in the end you won't step up and take any responsibility. Hell, we know they're tools, but you all make them into ho's."
Was that how things were, now? Was that how they always were?
He stepped through the door, not even sparing a glance at the daemonette. His eyes were trained forward, at the only occupied bed in the room.
There she was, gently held in the protective arms of her sister.
"Nila, what happened? Thaddeus called me over... how is sh-" he cut himself off, "How are you both doing?"
It was a stupid question. The clinic smelled of biomass, blood, and harsh cleaning fluids. Ugly injuries were highlighted in the bright, fluorescent lights made for surgery and examination. Anyone with a quarter of their brain would've been able to figure out neither of them were doing very well.
But it was a familiar question, the sort one asks when there's an elephant in the room to address and a desire to avoid said pachyderm. It should not have been familiar here. It was all wrong, didn't match what reality was supposed to be.
Constructs did not get hurt - not this hurt. They were more than human - more than superhuman. And of all of them, Neste certainly was not supposed to get hurt. Perhaps bruised or even scratched up a little, but never hurt. His limited knowledge of constructs told him they were infinitely more powerful than anything he'd yet seen. If they were able to get hurt, then what of the rest of them? What rock would he have if not for her? No, they weren't supposed to get hurt. They didn't get hurt.
Not like this.
Septimus closed the distance between him and the sisters. He sniffed; a slight ache throbbing in his head. His eyes reddened and he willed himself not to cry. It would be undignified to cry - and what good would it do anyways? His tears would not heal the woman in front of her. It would not bring back her magnificent exo.
What of Scel? The exo's body had been destroyed; what of her mind? Was she still there, somewhere, in Neste's head? Was she gone?
Why hadn't he been able to stop any of this?
"I'm sorry," he leaned forward against the bed and hesitated as Neste shifted and winced, allowing the pause to grow before eventually brushing his fingers against her cheek, "I couldn't make time, there was so much to do. I think... Well... I..."
Excuses were the friend of liars, manipulators, and bullies. And he was fine with being all three.
But not to her.
He fell silent.
His knees buckled; he lurched forward and supported himself on the bed. Turning to Nila with glassy eyes, he offered a grin that didn't reach past his lips.
"S-Say," he gulped, licking his lips even as he shook and his knees wobbled, "Would it b-be alright if I-I... I just..."
He stumbled over and gripped Neste and Nila in a hug, his head resting against the former's neck as he let out harsh sobs and pathetic cries and shook and groaned. His breath came in labored gasps. His throat grew dry, and then raw.
"I'm sorry," his voice was muffled as he shifted so he was whispering frantically in her ear - pausing for the hiccuping sob that occasionally came up - hoping that she was aware enough to hear the promises made and the threats set, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let them hurt you. I'm sorry I let them hurt Scel. I'm sorry... They won't hurt you anymore. They won't be allowed to hurt you anymore. I'm sorry... I promise. I'm sorry."
The plants, the fiends, the chaos in the lobby, the delayed healers, Rodney... All beyond his control.
He was pathetic.
Nominated by: Cerillium
Notes by Cerillium: "Three years (IRL!) have passed as characters Septimus Itum (a cyborg diplomat and former-torturer of the Confederation) and Neste Trilb (a biomachine construct from the Nifidium) sort their species differences, feelings, and cultural attitudes. Finally together after so much inner and environmental turmoil, Itum must now cope with the fact that his beloved was felled in battle. As a political figure functioning during a time of absolute crisis, he put aside his personal needs in order to keep the entire cast from crumbling. Now, finally, he's able to take a moment to see his sweet Neste on what might very well be her deathbed. Regrets. (What a pity she later dies.)"
ENTRY BEST HEARTWARMING OR TEAR-JERKER SINGLE POST
The guards, sensing that they were not needed, began walking away, their steps emphasized so as to alert the Representative that they were departing. He didn't bother to acknowledge them; he knew the mayor and where to find them. They knew of his gratitude.
But did Neste?
Septimus sputtered.
Rodney in a green suit, calling Neste a ho, and then telling him he was responsible for the loss of the exo.
Wasn't he? He'd been one of the ones in charge. If he had just had his affairs more properly in order, had coordinated the defense better...
If only that goddamn grass hadn't grown out of nowhere...
"You refused to take possession. That's how you all are, all about fucking and sucking, saying how we're bad because we treat them like slaves, but in the end you won't step up and take any responsibility. Hell, we know they're tools, but you all make them into ho's."
Was that how things were, now? Was that how they always were?
He stepped through the door, not even sparing a glance at the daemonette. His eyes were trained forward, at the only occupied bed in the room.
There she was, gently held in the protective arms of her sister.
"Nila, what happened? Thaddeus called me over... how is sh-" he cut himself off, "How are you both doing?"
It was a stupid question. The clinic smelled of biomass, blood, and harsh cleaning fluids. Ugly injuries were highlighted in the bright, fluorescent lights made for surgery and examination. Anyone with a quarter of their brain would've been able to figure out neither of them were doing very well.
But it was a familiar question, the sort one asks when there's an elephant in the room to address and a desire to avoid said pachyderm. It should not have been familiar here. It was all wrong, didn't match what reality was supposed to be.
Constructs did not get hurt - not this hurt. They were more than human - more than superhuman. And of all of them, Neste certainly was not supposed to get hurt. Perhaps bruised or even scratched up a little, but never hurt. His limited knowledge of constructs told him they were infinitely more powerful than anything he'd yet seen. If they were able to get hurt, then what of the rest of them? What rock would he have if not for her? No, they weren't supposed to get hurt. They didn't get hurt.
Not like this.
Septimus closed the distance between him and the sisters. He sniffed; a slight ache throbbing in his head. His eyes reddened and he willed himself not to cry. It would be undignified to cry - and what good would it do anyways? His tears would not heal the woman in front of her. It would not bring back her magnificent exo.
What of Scel? The exo's body had been destroyed; what of her mind? Was she still there, somewhere, in Neste's head? Was she gone?
Why hadn't he been able to stop any of this?
"I'm sorry," he leaned forward against the bed and hesitated as Neste shifted and winced, allowing the pause to grow before eventually brushing his fingers against her cheek, "I couldn't make time, there was so much to do. I think... Well... I..."
Excuses were the friend of liars, manipulators, and bullies. And he was fine with being all three.
But not to her.
He fell silent.
His knees buckled; he lurched forward and supported himself on the bed. Turning to Nila with glassy eyes, he offered a grin that didn't reach past his lips.
"S-Say," he gulped, licking his lips even as he shook and his knees wobbled, "Would it b-be alright if I-I... I just..."
He stumbled over and gripped Neste and Nila in a hug, his head resting against the former's neck as he let out harsh sobs and pathetic cries and shook and groaned. His breath came in labored gasps. His throat grew dry, and then raw.
"I'm sorry," his voice was muffled as he shifted so he was whispering frantically in her ear - pausing for the hiccuping sob that occasionally came up - hoping that she was aware enough to hear the promises made and the threats set, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let them hurt you. I'm sorry I let them hurt Scel. I'm sorry... They won't hurt you anymore. They won't be allowed to hurt you anymore. I'm sorry... I promise. I'm sorry."
The plants, the fiends, the chaos in the lobby, the delayed healers, Rodney... All beyond his control.
He was pathetic.