23rd metal . CTS spam

[godsays]

[ It's after Cassel's announcement that Zane can be found in the CTS.

The scene is medieval - or, ancient, anyway. Armor, swords, horses. A battle. As the door out of the CTS closes behind him, they surround him, weapons braced. He blinks back anguished emotion, and tosses back a vial of metals, and touches steel, pewter.

He launches into the air, and the fight begins.

There are hundreds of them, and only one of him: and yet. He slaughters them. He uses the metal they carry to Push and Pull himself; he is always faster, always stronger, and he is the utter picture of grace.

He kills them all.

And when they are dead, the bright green hill of a battlefield strewn with corpses, he goes into the forest. Braces himself against one tree and flings metal at another, a thud-thud of swords, knives, shields whipping and burying themselves into the bark. He Pushes, and Pushes, until finally the tree splinters and collapses, crashing slowly and mightily into the ground.

He keeps destroying the trees, over and over, until someone interrupts - or another army shows up. ]

Comments

[godsays]

[He folds one elbow to rest a hand on hers. And he relaxes. With this kind of proximity, he would be able to tell if there was ever movement towards an attack - at least that's what he tells himself, that it isn't just that he likes this physical contact.]

You have to pay attention. You have to know exactly what they think. And you have to match what they think perfectly, or you're useless?

[fridgetothefire]

No. Not like that. I like understanding people. And I'm good at it, usually.

When I'm perfectly matching what people expect, it's usually because I'm manipulating them. Actually helping is...less precise, and usually involves surprising people. If people aren't happy then their expectations aren't either.

I'm useless if I'm not doing anything useful. That's. Kind of inevitable.

[godsays]

You can't judge a person like a hammer. Being useful isn't what matters.

[fridgetothefire]

You can't judge a hammer at all. If you say a hammer is poor, you are really judging its maker, or its wielder. Because I am a person, and I must be judged by the works of my hands. That's what I mean, when I say useful. Productive.

What do you think matters?

[She doesn't move away from him, her eyes opening to fix on his, not quite close enough to leave them cross-eyed, but close enough to be oddly intense. The question is light and brisk, half challenge and half genuine.]

[godsays]

I don't know.

[He pulls back a half-inch, but only to think, not primarily to break contact with her.]

I still think the most important part about me is Allomancy. I still believe, with every part of me, that it is what makes me worth knowing, and worth loving.

But I don't think it's important because of what it can do for someone who uses me.

[fridgetothefire]

[She wants, very suddenly, to flick his nose. She never did manage to get Pietro. She resists the urge. Straight-faced, in the most reasonable tone she can manage,]

By that logic, every mistborn is equally worthy. Same ten powers, right? No more, no less.

[godsays]

[Here, he does draw back. Uncertain.]

...eighteen.

[He hasn't said this aloud to anyone yet. It's just been a thought. Lingering in the back of his mind.]

I think there might be eighteen.

[fridgetothefire]

That's super enigmatic and kind of cool if you're right, but, what, if you figure them out, you'll deserve love more?

Because that's fucked up.

[godsays]

Mistborn are worth more to me.

[ He clarifies: ] Automatically. Before knowing them. Because we have something in common.

And - maybe I would be. [ He's thinking of Kelsier. If Kelsier would pay more attention to him because of this. ]

[fridgetothefire]

[He pulled back, which is convenient, because it allows her to thwack his forehead smartly with her own, already too close to dodge, hard enough to hurt them both, a little, though not enough to bruise.]

No, you idiot. You realize you're basically telling me that my father was the most worthwhile person I've ever met?

[She's not angry - or, she's angry, because the corollary is and I'm worth nothing, you hypocrite, but she isn't venting it, isn't giving it any expression in her, keeps it in a box on a shelf because this isn't about her and being angry at him won't help him be less stupid.]

You wouldn't be worth one jot more. You'd just have more tools. What you do with them - all the rest of you, in other words, cleverness and empathy and bravery and your lousy attitude, all of that - that's what matters.

...and you did a good job with Creed, by the way.

[She knows other people have told him, but she hasn't, and she - ought to. Fair's fair.]

[godsays]

[ He pulls back more, now, shooting her a glare, rubbing exaggeratedly at the forehead that barely even stings. ]

No. That's not - You don't think I believe Creed is worth more than you or Chris or - Lua. Do you?

[ He doesn't, truly. But he struggles with this.

He drops his hand, abandoning the glare, too. ]

But maybe if I found more, if I showed I could be smarter and more powerful... [ A hiss of air. ] I still think this way, Anya, even when I try not to. How can I stop assuming that other people will do the same?

[fridgetothefire]

I don't think you think it straight out to yourself. But I think that's what some of the things you believe in mean, if you pay attention to the consequences. You get away with having it both ways in your head by never facing what you're actually saying about everyone else, when you say that about yourself.

[This is solemn, even gentle. Anya knows something about holding incompatible thoughts out of emotional necessity. But she also thinks he needs to jettison this, like, yesterday.]

Do you remember the powerswap flood? I was a telepath for a while. Stronger and faster and everything felt effortless. And I almost killed Erik by accident. I wasn't any better or worse or more worthy or less. I was still me, and I hurt someone because I made a reckless mistake.

You told me, what, five minutes ago that I should stop manipulating people, and the people who stick around are the ones who like me for me, right? Zane, you were powerless, as you told me emphatically and repeatedly.

We all still cared about you, and you did not make it easy. I'm not going to lie. There are people who'll think you're worth more for it. But you're a what instead of a who to them, even if that what isn't necessarily a tool, and they aren't your real friends.

[godsays]

But what about - Cassel? He and I learned to understand each other because we both have powers, because we've both been used for them. Part of why he's important to me is that. Maybe even most of it.

[fridgetothefire]

You aren't listening. This is an empirical question, the barge did the experiment, he did not abandon you.

If Cassel lost his powers, forever, would you love him less? Would he deserve less?

[You blockhead.]

We learned to understand each other because our fathers are awful. Our lives are part of us. History matters. Connection matters. But it's about how you felt and how you survive and how you are still kind enough to care that someone else suffered as you suffered.

My father - he knew what it was, to be treated as -

[Subhuman is, and is not, the word she wants.]

-as less, as an animal, as something to be disposed of. And then he turned around and did it to other people. Some people take things like that and when they have the chance to stand under their own strength, deal them right back out. And some people struggle to stand against them.

[With a very small smile, sad and sharp and deep,]

That's what makes you amazing, to me. You believe some of what you've always been told but you're still trying so hard, to be something different. To go through all of that and come out and still be moved by what happened to Cassel, instead of callous to it, because hey, you survived, didn't you? That's how the world goes, isn't it? That's what matters, not...power and circumstance.

[godsays]

[ And part of his mind still insists that Mistborn are more. Mistborn are the only ones who can feel the perfection of the night, see the stars. But that would mean Vin and Kelsier are his only equals here, and he doesn't feel even remotely equal to them. He feels more equal to Anya. Cassel. Morgana. And Cassel and Morgana have power.

He's sending himself in circles. ]

...it is how the world goes. How my world goes.

I didn't know there was something different until here.

[fridgetothefire]

[Oh honey.]

Zaychek, your world was wrong about almost everything.

[godsays]

Zaychek?

[She's right. He knows she is. He's turned away from almost everything his world represents - except one thing. Allomancy.]

[fridgetothefire]

[She did say almost. It's not bad. It's just not the most important thing about him, either. She blushes slightly, glances away.]

...it's just a word.

[godsays]

In your language?

[fridgetothefire]

...in the third of my eight languages, yes.

[godsays]

Eight.

[He's impressed.]

[fridgetothefire]

Yeah.

[She was totally being pissy about it, but she shrugs as if it's not a big deal.]

It's easier if you learn when you're little. The brain is designed to pick them up just by listening until you're seven years old or so. I'm working on a few more.

[godsays]

[He offended her, it seems, but he can't tell yet if it would need an apology, so he doesn't offer one.]

Is it - a normal nickname? Or does it mean something?

[fridgetothefire]

[Only a little, and mostly because arguing about worth and powers winds her up even if she's trying not to be angry at him about it. She scrubs the hair at the back of her head a little abashedly.]

Uh. Sort of both? But translated literally, it's. Bunny.

[godsays]

[He stares, for a long moment, deciding whether to be a little offended or just amused. He decides on the latter, settling back, relaxing some.]

Bunny.