entrancelogs | + It's good that we can't see what isn't there +

Entry tags:

+ It's good that we can't see what isn't there +

Who: EVERYONE
Where: Wonderland and adjacent dimensions!
When: Friday, April 21st to Monday, April 24th
Rating: PG-13, warn if higher!
Summary: A place to list your tears throughout the event, and describe the worlds that can be seen or accessed through them. Event Post.
The Story:

While invisible zombies ravage Wonderland, tears are popping up everywhere! Through them characters can see versions of themselves from alternate universes. Some of them show a different version of Wonderland, some a different version of their home. Some are as benign as a character drinking coffee instead of tea, others are as drastic as somebody's entire personality changed completely.

On day one tears are so small as to barely even be recognisable. Faint voices and melodies can be heard through the tiny cracks if you step really close, but these brief and indistinct glimpses are barely even worth describing.

On day two tears have opened up wide enough to recognise them for what they really are. Yesterday's melodies will sound clearer, and the voices will become decidedly familiar, belonging to people characters know, sounding perhaps even like the characters themselves. Look through the tears and they may catch sight of home, or something that merely looks like another part of Wonderland. The tears are yet narrow and instable though, and the field of vision is correspondingly poor.

On day three the tears have grown a great deal. The worlds beyond them can be seen and heard, though most cannot be interacted with at all. Only the biggest ones are already stable enough for characters to stick their hand inside, and pulls through any objects within reach.

On the fourth and last day some tears have finally become large and stable enough for characters to pass through whole. Not all tears will reach this stage, but those who have can be visited, and the world beyond them explored... at each character's own peril.

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[Where does she even start with this? Where could she possibly begin? Does it start when they meet, with his back to her illuminated by the sunset in the wide window, smooth words amiable to her mission? Does it start when she sits across from him in Life Support, and he tells her about his late wife, his son, his illness? Does it start when their hands touch, the first time she feels something in her heart- and before then, it had been a long time since she felt anything at all- when their lips meet, when his body crashes into hers before a mission neither should have survived, when they both hold each other for just a moment more to stave off the inevitable?

His name, maybe. Perhaps, the thing that continues to echo in her mind, is a good place to start.]

His name was Thane. Thane Krios. We met because I was recruiting people for a mission I wasn't sure I or anyone else was coming back from. We only spent a couple of months together before I had to drop him off and plead my case to the military not to arrest me for the rest of my life.

[That's a start. A piece. Keep going. She deserves your truth, Shepard reminds herself.]

I got out six months later when the Reapers attacked and found him again. He... he had a long-term illness. Fatal. We... were never gonna have much time, but I visited him on the Citadel every time I was there. He was doing better. I'd helped him reconnect with his son, everything was fine, and...

The station got attacked. He couldn't see innocent people get hurt. And he... took a hit that should've been mine.

[Never should have been him. If she was a little faster, a little quicker to the Councilor, just a step to the left--

She sees the scene in her mind, over and over and over. Never stops it. Never wins. She doesn't dare allow herself that fantasy, and yet, the tear forces it for her. She gestures to it, now, stepping a bit to the side should Toriel want to see.]

Not here, though. I guess that Shepard was a little better than me.

...I am sorry, Jane. I had no idea.

Something like that... it must have been incredibly painful to experience. Even knowing that an end would come soon, having it happen so suddenly and violently... I am sorry.

However, dwelling on things that we cannot change... it is never a good thing.

[It's definitely something Toriel tries to avoid doing, at least- otherwise, she wouldn't think about much else. Has winded up not thinking about much else before, spent days or even weeks at a time just wishing she could change things.]

You should... attempt to focus on the times that you did have. Enjoy the happiness that he brought you, and that you brought him.

[It feels... rote, and cliched, like she's just recycling lines that are standard for this kind of situation. But then, maybe they wind up that way for a reason. Either way, it's how she feels, and she doesn't know what else to say. There's nothing she can say that'll make the pain just disappear.

...Toriel also tucks away the bit about being arrested in her mind, for later. That definitely makes her curious, but. Now isn't the time for an interrogation.]

[She knows this. Of course she does. Concentrate hard on the things that were good, push the pain and it's ending away from you. It's the pieces that come after that are harder to classify. What do you do about a funeral, a tenuous relationship with the child of a man you were involved with when he asks you to help? About videos squirreled away behind hidden encryptions, only found after death? About the only physicality of him being left is a picture in a frame and imagining him talking to her one last time before she boarded her ship?

She should have gotten better with the idea of losing him early. She knew he was ill. She knew they wouldn't last. But she remembers, so clearly, going through the suicide mission in the Collector base. Pulling the rubble off of him before they made their final run, feeling nothing but unmitigated fear that she had killed him, that he would be the only one not to make it out alive. She knew, then, that she never wanted to live without him.

How silly an idea that was. As if she could ever stop.]

I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner. I should've told you, I mean, honestly said something. Not just tiptoeing around it. It's been more than a year, I...

I'm sorry. I don't think I've ever really talked about him to almost anyone.

[Just barely to Garrus, to Chakwas. Little blips on the radar, few and far between, cast off into ocean between them.]

You do not need to apologize. This... it is not an easy thing to talk about.

It is not something that most people would want to talk about, either.

[It's not like Toriel's brought up every person she knows and cared about who winded up dying horribly, after all. If she did, they'd be here all day.

It hurts, though. Seeing someone she cares about so much, so upset, so broken up over the loss of someone so close.

She wants to be there for her- stepping closer, and resting a hand on Shepard's shoulder, looking down towards her, hoping to reassure her with her own presence.]

You... deserve to know. I mean, if we're going to be together, it's... I should be honest with you. As much as I can be.

[About why this intimacy has been hard for her to find again. About why opening herself up has been so, so complicated. About why she just can't let go of her mistakes, because when she does, someone dies. They always die.

She leans into Toriel's touch, soft and gentle. Reassuring. Something close, and safe.]

I should've done better. This is what happens when I make mistakes.

[That's a feeling that Toriel certainly understands. When you make mistakes, people die, and it's all your fault.

The difference is though, that Toriel's actually right about herself bringing death and pain on everyone she knows, while Jane is too good for that. Must just be taking on too much of the blame and responsibility, blaming herself for things she couldn't predict, or... all kinds of things, really.]

Whatever it is that happened... I am certain that it was not your fault, Jane.

...Would you like to sit down somewhere? You seem a little tired.

[Just how long has she been standing at attention like this, before Toriel stumbled across her?]

[Look at the two of them. Two fractured people, still reaching out in the darkness. Hasn't that just been everyone she's ever met? Every person that's found their way to her. Alone in the dark. Grasping for something.

The secret, she thinks, to survival, is that even when you want to give up most, there's something in you that just won't let you stop trying. Maybe it's hope. Maybe it's what Frisk and Chara call determination.

It's hard to place her finger on. As it stands, her feet seem rooted to the spot, her body barely a combination of held-together experiences and trauma by now.

She's not sure how long it's been since someone offered her some reprieve.]

I... yeah. You're right. There's no... no real point to being here.

[Because there's not. What is she defending? Something Wonderland's made up, some what-if scenario that ignores the details, that pretends this could ever have been her future?

There's nothing left to save here. She should go.]

I guess I just wasn't prepared to see him again.

Well... I would not suggest leaving right away, exactly... There are still a great many things out there, and this room at least, seems safe.

[They're living in a pretty elegant mansion- it's a safe bet that there are a few chairs around, for them to sit in, or a small couch- which Toriel leads Shepard, to, stepping over and putting an arm around her shoulder- guiding her over towards a place to rest, where the things through that tear are no longer visible.]

I do not think it is something that anyone could be ready for. To see someone that you thought lost, with no way to reach them... It is... cruel, really, to show you a future that you know you could never have a part in.

[Like, a future where Toriel lived, and her people lived, and everything and everyone was happy and it all worked out and she wasn't reduced to dust by an evil and hateful human child.]

Just... take things as they are, and do not think too much about what could have been.

[It's hard for Shepard to concede anything emotionally, much less physically- even as Toriel tries to give her something to lean on, her body is rigid, uncompromising. It's one part a panicked adrenaline response and one part training, to walk until you give out. If she has the strength, physically, to hold herself up, she won't ever stop.

She does, however, allow herself to be lead a direction to a chair, sitting down and trying to ignore the tear and the protests of her leg muscles, having been standing for so long.]

It was just... it was stupid. He shouldn't have been there, I should've been faster. It caught me off-guard, and...

[And people die, when she makes mistakes. The most dangerous place for anyone in the galaxy to be is by her side.]

He should've stayed away from me. He would have been fine.

It is always easier to think of things that you could have done after the fact. To think that if you had just done one thing or the other, or had known something were going to happen you could have acted differently... But you can only ever have known what you did the first time.

Jane... Do you truly believe that you would have tried anything other than your very best, when the lives of those close to you are on the line?

[Toriel is sitting right next to Jane- arm wrapped around her shoulder, and offering her own shoulder for Jane to lean on, when and if she feels ready.]

In the end, it was his choice. He chose to fall in love with you, he chose to be there for you in a time of need, and he chose to use what little time he had left, to make sure that the woman he loved would be able to live a long life.

I think it is a choice that many people would have made. You cannot blame yourself for that.

[She listens, stays quiet. She's right- or at least, Shepard knows this logically. She always has to be on her top form, and she is, but-- the line for her and the line for everyone else is different. She can't afford to fail, even once. The stakes are in a constant state of too high.]

It doesn't matter if I'm doing my best, though. If it's not enough, it's still my fault.

[Shepard pauses, taking in an all-too-shaky breath.]

I defy the odds all the time. Half the words out of most people's mouths to me is 'I can't believe you survived that', or 'it's a miracle you saved whatever', but it's constant. Why can I break those barriers then, and not when it matters for the people I love? What does it mean that I can fail them and not the galaxy?

I never know if I could have done better, because sometimes, I do. So what can I change about anything?

[She's never put it into words like this, before. Doesn't know how to react once they've left her mouth, too heavy, too personal, too... open.

She shifts a bit, putting her hands over her face.]

I'm sorry. This isn't-- fuck, I'm sorry.

Please, you do not need to apologize.

[Her grip on Jane's shoulder gets just a bit firmer, hoping to reassure her in some small way.]

I do not know the exact details of what has happened, to make you feel so much responsibility- but I do not believe it is anything healthy.

If people have made you feel like this, as if you always have to be perfect, that everything which goes wrong is your fault, then they have been placing a horrible burden onto you with their compliments.

You are a person, Jane. Fallible, and imperfect. You cannot do everything right, and you certainly cannot be expected to do everything alone.

No matter how many times you defy the odds, there are times that you will not- and I only wish that you were not in a situation where the stakes were so high, and that people made you feel like it was your fault when the odds got the better of you.

[She... hopes she's making sense. That her words will be able to reach Shepard in some small way, at least.

It's unlikely to change her ways of thinking- even if she agrees, there is a stark difference between knowing something is true, and feeling that something is true. It's clearly something deep, an attitude that has been reinforced by countless events in her life and constant praise building her up- which only makes it so much more crushing when she inevitably fails at something. Praise can be cruel like that, sometimes.

Hopefully, it will be a small step though. A small bit of letting her know it's okay- that might change how she feels in the future.]

[She tries to laugh, and it dies in her throat, a choke halfway between a chuckle and a sob.]

I can't afford it. To be a person. I'm... I'm the only one who can save the universe. The only person who's ever stopped them. If I'm not in the way, the universe falls.

[It has barely anything to do with individual people, single comments. It's what she places on herself. What entails the cry of every child in danger, what the infantry soldier screaming for help calls for, what her best friend writes in the stars. They need you. They need you, Commander.]

War means that every time I let up, every time I lose, it's someone's life. Someone who's leaving behind family, and a purpose. Someone that will be mourned. When I miss a step, a planet falls. When I don't hit a shot, someone else takes it. It is my fault. The universe needed me so damn much, it wouldn't even let me die.

[Has she ever gotten into this with Toriel? She doesn't remember. Everything's too raw, the taste in her mouth too bitter. She's caught somewhere between leaning on the other woman and keeping herself incredibly still, untouchable, unsalvageable. She doesn't know where else to be.]

[About the kind of answer Toriel expected, really.

Not the one she hoped for, but the one she expected. Like she thought, those kinds of feelings aren't so easily shaken.]

Jane... I am sorry, but I am not certain if I believe that. However skilled you are, however important you are... you are only one person in an entire galaxy.

There was an entire army, which you were a part of. There were soldiers right at your side, were there not? You were not acting all alone, and mistakes were not solely on your shoulders. You are not the only person who has stopped them- but as the one in charge- any success and any mistakes feel as if they fall squarely on your shoulders.

[It feels somewhat... presumptuous, to be assuming things like this, on something she doesn't know all that much about. But still- someone shouldn't feel that kind of responsibility, that there's so much riding on them alone, when there are so many others that could take some of that burden.]

Well, it...

[Her voice cracks, and she takes a moment to think. Yes, her squad was there, the crew of the Normandy, but The Illusive Man's words still hang heavy in her mind. You're a symbol of humanity's greatness, Shepard. Everyone is looking to you to change the world.]

They're my crew. I'm the commanding officer. I'm the one who takes the fall for them if something goes wrong. I'm responsible.

[It's not even always what she does. It's what she represents.]

I'm... my squad and I were the only ones that've ever defeated a Reaper. I'm the face on the tabloids, the name on everyone's mouths. Even if it wasn't me, it's... it's me, you know? It has to be me.

[Someone else might've gotten it wrong.]

Edited (typo whoops) 2017-05-29 20:31 (UTC)

It... it does not have to be you, though.

[Maybe she should stop talking. Just let it go, just try and relax instead of challenging her like this, deal with it some other time when Shepard isn't so exhausted. But... she wants to help, wants to change things.

She shouldn't have to hold so much weight on her shoulders all alone.]

You were the first to succeed- so the people became enamored with you. They talked about you and built you up, and convinced themselves that only you could do it- and convinced you, as well. Nobody else succeeded, because nobody else was entrusted with such important tasks.

...I may be wrong about that, but that is what it sounds like to me. Even if you are the very best of the best, you are still only one person. They may have made you out to be a symbol of success with no flaws- but no real person is actually so perfect as a face on a tabloid. Nobody could ever actually meet such expectations.

Whatever the realities are, though, you are not alone. Here in this place, or back home- you are not alone, Jane, and you do not have to do things on your own.

[Nobody else succeeded because they weren't in the line of fire. It's a good reasoning, to consider; that it just happened to be her, once chance after another as the universe falls into place. But it always seems to be her anyway, doesn't it? Garrus goes off on his own, almost dies on Omega in over his head when his squad falls apart. Anderson gets so close to becoming a Spectre only for the world to fall down around him from a jealous retribution. Matriarch Benezia and Saren, with all the opportunity in the world to resist the Reaper's thrall, and they lose.

Plenty of people have been in this line of fire, and failed. She barely considers herself the first to succeed. She's the first by default if she's the only.]

There are plenty of people who-- who've been up against them. But they rely on me to give them hope, to be that person, to keep going, and I... fuck, Toriel, I don't want to.

[She doesn't think she's ever said it so frankly. She's never had to confront it like this.]

I can't let them down. I can't... I can't give up, it's not my choice to make with so much on the line. But when this is over, I don't know. I... I don't know.

[It feels like she's holding herself together with string, like she'll shake and rattle apart every time she heaves in a breath, like the spiderweb cracks are opening again from where Cerberus put her back together. Can't even die. Can't give up. This isn't about you anymore, Shepard. This is about so much more.]

I'm always alone. It always has to be me, in the end.

That... is a feeling that I understand all too well.

You are the one in charge, and the one that everyone looks to. And with so many people relying on you, trusting in you, you cannot possibly allow yourself to give up.

[Toriel may have been the ruler of a kingdom, but... it was small. There wasn't enough space for an overly large society. From the sounds of it, Jane may have had many more people relying on her- and she highly doubts that she expected to fall into such a role.]

In the days after the war, I wanted only to mourn the loss of my friends and family- but there was too much to do. We had to find sources of food and water, construct shelter, plan for the possibility of humans coming to finish us off- and I had to organize it all. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had to smile, and give the people hope. Make sure that they believed we would be able to get through this, even on days when I doubted it myself.

Years passed, though, and things settled- the situation was not so pressing and immediate. We had a solid infrastructure, and I was able to delegate duties to others. I was able to adjust, and...

[She trails off for a moment, before chuckling a bit. Just a bit, quiet and tired.]

You know, I started that story just trying to explain why I know how it feels, and planned to say that it is alright to not want to keep going, that it is not fair to you, to make you the sole carrier of their hopes... but instead, it sounds more like I am saying 'Just stick with it, Jane, you will feel better in a few more years.'

I suppose I should have followed my own advice, hm?

Besides- even if it was true for me, I do not think that it is for you. If I had to live through the chaos of the war, every day... I do not think I could handle that for long. Besides, I was never alone like you. Always, I had Asgore right there by my side.

[She wrings her hands a bit, tries to pull herself together a bit at Toriel's words. She's not the only person who's been through war, and it's... kind of a rotating door of people, through her life. There are a few she keeps finding her way back to; Garrus in the opposite sniper nest, always downstairs keeping his hands busy. Liara, with a kind word when she needs comfort and hard strategy when she needs action. Joker, with a quip and a reality check on the bridge. Chakwas in the med bay with her stashed-away brandy and laughter.

It's... she's being stupid. She's the only person who's walked her path, but she has friends by her side, doesn't she? Commander Shepard and the Normandy. Her ship, her crew, her home.

She's the one pushing them out. But they don't deserve this. Her mess, her burden, her... war. They should get someone better.]

I'm sorry, Toriel. I've never... I guess I've never had to live with the aftermath, like that.

[Lies. She lives with the aftermath of Mindoir. She fell apart. Pulled herself up like a phoenix, grasping for the one straw she had left, giving someone else control of her life.]

I don't really know how to pick myself up, or... trust there are going to be people there for me. Even if they are, they have their own problems. They don't need my shit on top of it.

People who can deal with their problems on their own are very rare. When they have problems as large as yours... I do not think anyone can handle them without either help, or damaging themselves in some way. You need to talk about them with others.

[Toriel was all on her own for a very, very long time, after all- suffering tragedy after tragedy. It... probably had a rather significant negative impact on her. The kind of thing that leads to wanting to set fire to children.

No need to really get into that, though. Shepard has her own problems to deal with.

...And Toriel nearly laughs at that, when she realizes just how thoroughly she's not following her own advice.]

If it makes you feel any better though, I could tell you more about some of my unbearable problems sometime. Help make us even.

...Probably not now, though. I would prefer you have some time to yourself, to relax and re energize, after all of... this. Later, though.

[Her body shakes just slightly in a single bubble of laughter at Toriel's suggestion- dark humor is basically her lifeblood by this point, and this is no exception.]

Later, yeah. But I do want to help. Anything I can do.

[She's hypocritical, too. Won't let anyone else's problems rest but shoves hers to the back of her mind, out of her heart. Can't let people see the mess behind the mask or they won't trust her with their issues.

Regardless, she breaths, one stable breath. Drags herself back from the brink. Tries to just breathe.]

Thanks, Toriel. For all of this. I... I didn't mean to worry you, or not to tell you about Thane.

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+ It's good that we can't see what isn't there +

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