04 . Spam for pre-arranged threads

[godsays]

[ He settles into his own mind with a jarring sense of wrongness, from thoughts that fell in orderly lines to a jumble, mismatched and unsettling. With the ebb of the flood, he has changed, from sanity to the lack of same, and he feels the difference all the more starkly now that he knows for certain what both of them mean.

Heel of his hand rubs at the lump over his breastbone.

He would be sane, if not for the voice. Is that what this meant? Or was it the weakness in his heart that stopped him from being as dangerous as he otherwise would have been? Was the Admiral's goal to take away his teeth, to make him meek? Or was this truly a lesson he should take to heart?

He tries to herd his thoughts, settles into stillness in the corner. Utter stillness, not moving a muscle for hours.

In the meantime: his door is closed. ]

Comments

[patheticvillain]

Okay, I can't tell if that's good or bad. That you weren't, I mean.

[godsays]

[ A twitch of his shoulder, an almost-shrug. He's not particularly sure either. ]

[patheticvillain]

[He makes a curious noise and scoots a little away from the wall, resting his hands on his ankles.]

What does it mean?

[godsays]

Maybe nothing.

[patheticvillain]

[He snorts.]

Maybe something.

[godsays]

The floods aren't supposed to mean anything.

[patheticvillain]

But you think this does.

You're a crappy liar, you might as well just spit it out.

[godsays]

[ A half-smile. ]

I'm an excellent liar.

[ He doesn't seem particularly proud of the fact. ]

[patheticvillain]

[Me too. Cassel shakes his head.]

Maybe. But not right now.

[godsays]

In order to be a good liar, you have to know the truth.

[ And here, he knows fuck-all. ]

[patheticvillain]

[Ah. Yep, there it is. And it's true, too - before Cassel knew the truth about himself, his lies were shit.]

[He leans forward again, hands on his knees.]

So how are you going to figure it out?

[godsays]

I met a man here who could speak in people's minds.

[patheticvillain]

Can you trust him?

[He smirks. It's a joke. Of course he can't.]

[godsays]

Does it matter?

[ It's not a joke. Zane's mind is already a mess. How worse could someone make it, really? ]

[patheticvillain]

. . . Good point.

He wants to help?

[godsays]

I didn't know it was possible. To hear things that didn't come from your own mind.

[ And perhaps from here a conclusion can be drawn: that there was a voice. ]

[patheticvillain]

Lots of things are possible here.

[He considers Zane for a minute.]

It's like a problem that you have to solve. A mystery, or something.

[godsays]

Possible in my world.

[patheticvillain]

It is or it isn't?

[godsays]

[ He doesn't answer, but shoots Cassel a look of conflict-indecision-anger. He is furious, and he is terrified, and he doesn't know what he should be. ]

[patheticvillain]

[Sometimes Zane's really difficult to understand. There's a sense communicated that's very clear, though, so Cassel just nods and lets the silence rest, the anger. Something has been kept from Zane. He has a right to be angry.]

[godsays]

[ It's after another long silence that he speaks. ]

It could have been someone telling me to kill. All that time.

I haven't heard the voice since I got here.

[patheticvillain]

[It's a terrifying thought, somebody reaching into a person's head and persuading them to do one thing or another. Unfortunately it's not a thought that's foreign to Cassel, and he goes pale thinking about it.]

I'm - [He clears his throat.] Do you miss it?

[Like Cassel misses the world that never was, where his brother looked out for him while he killed people who got in their way with a smile on his face.]

[godsays]

[ A subtle flinch. ]

You can hate something and hate that it abandoned you at once.

[ It's almost a question, the tentative way he says it. ]

[patheticvillain]

[It's mirrored, followed by a nod.]

Yeah. You can. Lots of people do.

[He thinks about adding I do, but presses the heel of his hand to his temple instead, hard. Zane's the opposite of trustworthy.]