"Pole to Pole" brief notes
Thursday, 28 September 2006 06:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keaaluJust a boring old retread of the same subject, thought I'd post it so it people could eyeball it. *shrugs*
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Ivy is playing along as a "hostage", Slate is on "the other side" in an undercover role
The fine, drizzling rain the weather forecaster had promised had misted in across the hills earlier in the evening, and now lay in a foggy blanket that obscured the bottom of the tree-lined valley.
Ivy stood in the window, staring out at the bleak landscape, and Slate wondered what she was looking at; she’d been distant and unnaturally quiet – for her – all evening, and he sensed that not all of it was merely her in the role of hostage.
Korven and his fellow males had left her alone for most of the evening, after she’d proved herself more than capable of defending herself against the bumblingly inept fighters. Seeing the diminutive white female throw an Usurian who must have been at least twice her mass clean across the room, without looking like it was the least bit of effort, had put all romantic thoughts out of their heads.
“Slate,” she greeted, as he approached, and she sounded… flat. Dead.
“You all right, Vee?” he offered, gently.
“Functioning,” she replied, at last, but it was reluctantly.
“This evening,” she said, quietly, “reminded me of things I would prefer to forget. That is all.”
“Tell me,” she glanced briefly up at him. “When you look at me, what do you see?”
He opened his mouth and quirked an eyebrow, at first, then spread his hands. “Is that a trick question?”
“What do you see,” she insisted.
“Ivory, you look beautiful,” he insisted. “After everything that happened when you arrived, you still doubt it-?”
“Then all those idiot males are attracted to a lie!” she snapped, bitterly, and her eyes flickered briefly like blue fire in his direction. “They look at me and they have no idea what they lust after. If they knew what lay beneath, they would be repulsed.”
Slate pouted, hurt at the rebuff, but sensed there was little he could do to help her mood. “What about us?” he asked, softly. “Onyx, Ren, Lena, me…? Is that what you think about us?”
She was silent for another few long moments, then returned her gaze to the darkening gloom and shook her head.
Slate bit his lip, then let his hand rest gently on her tiny shoulder; the responding movement was fractional but he felt her lean very slightly against him. “There’s always a silver lining, Ivy,” he tried to comfort. “”It’s just a… big cloud to find it in.”
She have a single huff of laughter, but it was a dead, humourless sound. “Your words of comfort need a little polishing.”
“Yeah, I know,” he agreed, glumly. “You’d think a trained nurse would have a better bedside manner, huh.”
“I don’t know what to do any more,” she spoke up, at last, and her voice was small, miserable. “It all seems so… impossible. Insurmountable. If I fail to tell them what I am, the truth eventually always comes out in the worst possible way. They do not like being tricked. But if I tell them what I am, they run a mile. You cannot love a machine, they say.”
“I’m sure there’s more people than just us four that’ll give you the friendship you need,” Slate argued, kneeling so he was closer to her level. “And we’ll still love you.”
“Is it too much to ask,” she wondered, quietly, “that I be liked for the content of my character? That I be judged as a person on the merit of what I do and say, not what I am made of? That when I find companionship, it is based on who and not what I am?”
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Ivy is playing along as a "hostage", Slate is on "the other side" in an undercover role
The fine, drizzling rain the weather forecaster had promised had misted in across the hills earlier in the evening, and now lay in a foggy blanket that obscured the bottom of the tree-lined valley.
Ivy stood in the window, staring out at the bleak landscape, and Slate wondered what she was looking at; she’d been distant and unnaturally quiet – for her – all evening, and he sensed that not all of it was merely her in the role of hostage.
Korven and his fellow males had left her alone for most of the evening, after she’d proved herself more than capable of defending herself against the bumblingly inept fighters. Seeing the diminutive white female throw an Usurian who must have been at least twice her mass clean across the room, without looking like it was the least bit of effort, had put all romantic thoughts out of their heads.
“Slate,” she greeted, as he approached, and she sounded… flat. Dead.
“You all right, Vee?” he offered, gently.
“Functioning,” she replied, at last, but it was reluctantly.
“This evening,” she said, quietly, “reminded me of things I would prefer to forget. That is all.”
“Tell me,” she glanced briefly up at him. “When you look at me, what do you see?”
He opened his mouth and quirked an eyebrow, at first, then spread his hands. “Is that a trick question?”
“What do you see,” she insisted.
“Ivory, you look beautiful,” he insisted. “After everything that happened when you arrived, you still doubt it-?”
“Then all those idiot males are attracted to a lie!” she snapped, bitterly, and her eyes flickered briefly like blue fire in his direction. “They look at me and they have no idea what they lust after. If they knew what lay beneath, they would be repulsed.”
Slate pouted, hurt at the rebuff, but sensed there was little he could do to help her mood. “What about us?” he asked, softly. “Onyx, Ren, Lena, me…? Is that what you think about us?”
She was silent for another few long moments, then returned her gaze to the darkening gloom and shook her head.
Slate bit his lip, then let his hand rest gently on her tiny shoulder; the responding movement was fractional but he felt her lean very slightly against him. “There’s always a silver lining, Ivy,” he tried to comfort. “”It’s just a… big cloud to find it in.”
She have a single huff of laughter, but it was a dead, humourless sound. “Your words of comfort need a little polishing.”
“Yeah, I know,” he agreed, glumly. “You’d think a trained nurse would have a better bedside manner, huh.”
“I don’t know what to do any more,” she spoke up, at last, and her voice was small, miserable. “It all seems so… impossible. Insurmountable. If I fail to tell them what I am, the truth eventually always comes out in the worst possible way. They do not like being tricked. But if I tell them what I am, they run a mile. You cannot love a machine, they say.”
“I’m sure there’s more people than just us four that’ll give you the friendship you need,” Slate argued, kneeling so he was closer to her level. “And we’ll still love you.”
“Is it too much to ask,” she wondered, quietly, “that I be liked for the content of my character? That I be judged as a person on the merit of what I do and say, not what I am made of? That when I find companionship, it is based on who and not what I am?”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 28 Sep 2006 07:59 pm (UTC)I do like her personality, but I don't like how I'm apparently not allowed to ALSO enjoy her synthetic nature. :/
(no subject)
Date: 28 Sep 2006 08:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 28 Sep 2006 10:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 28 Sep 2006 11:34 pm (UTC)Are you offering that I could eventually get to know just about all of your characters? ^^
(no subject)
Date: 29 Sep 2006 09:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 29 Sep 2006 06:43 am (UTC)I find it odd that Ivy would make judgements on relationships based on how assailants reacted to her... and probably unpleasant ones at that. I doubt even if they were interested in her aside from initial appearances, she'd care that much, considering the circumstances and all.
(no subject)
Date: 30 Sep 2006 10:09 pm (UTC)"...the truth eventually always comes out in the worst possible way."
This line is also so true, in any situation.