♥ watching you walk through that fire is a burden that i can't carry

[newworldlover.livejournal.com]

[It's Hell on the Astral Plane. In a disturbing and worsening pattern, Sirkka can be found wandering from place to place, never going inside a building... If one steps within ten yards of her they can feel it: something dark enough to be tangible, grief and despair so thick that it could make a lesser person fall to their knees.

She hasn't eaten. She hasn't slept. Quite possibly she doesn't need either. But none of that matters anymore. Her hair is a mess, tangled as it drifts carelessly about her shoulders. She can't keep her head up, so this timebomb waiting to go off just /might/ run into your character.

This is not a consequence.

This is an EMPATH.]

[ooc: Leave your AIM name/email or turn your messages on because STUFF AFFECTS YOUR DUDES BADLY, as are her powers... as always. Also feel free to back out of this once you find out. Really, it's fine.]

Comments

[newworldlover.livejournal.com]

I always try to smile but it's not working. It stopped working a long time ago.

[She does sit, though, ignorant of the wandering monsters. It'd be nice if one of them was strong enough to kill her. And it'd be nice if Braxiatel took her far away from here and put her back together and held her until the universe stopped beating.]

I don't know why I bother. Or why you bother. I'll destroy this place someday at the rate I'm going. Destroy it and flood it and everyone in it.

[collector]

[Brax isn't completely sure why he bothers either, not with how inordinately difficult humans are. He sits down across from her.]

That's a bit Biblical of you, isn't it?

[newworldlover.livejournal.com]

We did it before. [What's the point of keeping secrets anymore? Everyone knows anyway.] My brothers and sisters and I. We punched a hole right in the Earth, in the middle of nowhere. But it was too big of a hole and when we did-- when we did that, the sky turned funny colors, and then the water came in and there wasn't anything left...

That's... that's why we made Whitechapel. That's why we take people in. It's because we had the stupid notion that we could atone for what we did. And here I am, repeating history, tearing people up who didn't do a thing.

[collector]

[Something in Braxiatel feels sick. Sick of trying. Sick of saving people. Oh yes, all that guilt Sirkka has, and she's trying to atone for it - he is familiar with the feeling. But it never works. It's never enough. You can never be done giving yourself up for the rest of the world because it will just keep taking until you aren't there any longer.]

[It's in the face of this violent desire to give up on everything that Braxiatel realizes: something is wrong with his head.]

[Carefully, he keeps it in (why bother hiding it? habit, perhaps) and asks, as if voicing her thoughts]

So why bother trying? Why not just die and have it done with?

[The scepticism is clear in the way he phrases it. He doubts the validity of any of it.]

[And quietly, in the back of his poisoned mind, he locks away that little detail that Sirkka gave him.]

[newworldlover.livejournal.com]

[It's real to Sirkka, though. It's like someone took her guilt for the past few years and amplified it, and she can't stop it. She can't help herself.

There's something beautiful in giving up. Beautiful and terrible.]

I don't even have the dignity to kill myself. I don't even know if something like me can die.

[collector]

[Braxiatel prefers to preserve beautiful things.]

Something like you ought not be destroyed. And anyway, don't let the Romans sell you on the dignity of suicide. It's really not very dignified at all, though it's an excellent way to get rid of political opponents.

[He says it because he is thinking, "Why bother protecting anything when it will only be destroyed?" and that thought terrifies him enough that he locks it up and keeps talking as if he never had it.]

[newworldlover.livejournal.com]

[She lets out a wry little cough. It's not a sob, but she's still a mess.

She's thinking of her futility, of her relationship with Jack, of their tea therapy sessions and just how pointless it all is. She has no strength. Maybe no one really does, but she definitely doesn't.

There's no use in fighting anymore.]

If I can't be destroyed, then what should I do?

I can't... go on like this. I just can't.

[collector]

And how much effort would it be to stop?

[Against his will, there's a steel harshness in his consonants, the bristling despair of someone breaking for lack of an escape.]

[newworldlover.livejournal.com]

I don't know. Maybe I... need someone to protect me. Maybe I've been shoving everyone out all this time. I don't know! I don't know. I want Jack but he doesn't want me. We'll kill each other before we're through, that's the way we're going...

[She buries her face in her hands.]

[collector]

[Braxiatel takes out his staser to fire at an approaching like-like, and he doesn't stop firing until it's dead.]

I've been told that giving up is something of a relief.

[newworldlover.livejournal.com]

[Sirkka doesn't even notice. Her terrible grief is an all-encompassing thing and whatever restraint she showed when he got here is twisted into a sort of desperate, shameless need to cling to someone-- hopeless as it might be.]

I don't know how to give up. I want to. Tell me how, please, Braxiatel. I want to stop. I want to stop everything in my head.

[collector]

My dear girl, you form prayers to broken stone.

[Unlike so many of his misguided attempts to comfort, Braxiatel performs this gesture without awkwardness: he reaches out to take one of Sirkka's hands in his own.]

If you like, I can make you sleep. For a little while. And perhaps, when you awaken, the sound and fury will signify more than endless tomorrows.

[newworldlover.livejournal.com]

[Her eyes widen slightly, not expecting such a charitable, open gesture from Braxiatel. He might be able to detect something like a blush. Pale people, man.]

Sleep...

I think-- I think I'd like that.

[collector]

Then let me try it. It's so much easier if you open your mind to it.

[newworldlover.livejournal.com]

... Thank you. [Whatever barriers she has left go down. She grasps at a moment of clarity, enough to keep from projecting her feelings all over the place.]

[collector]

[It is an easy state to slip into, one he has relied on more of late than he has done before. Braxiatel lets the pull reach out to her, lets his voice become a hook to catch her mind.

And softly, slowly, like seeping amber, he speaks.]

Sirkka. Let it all go. Let all the troubles slip away from your mind. You are . . . [briefly, a self-mocking laugh] You are getting very sleepy. You want to rest, and you will. Slowly, peacefully, you are slipping into easeful dreams.

Go to sleep, Sirkka.