asgardeventide | 001 // voice. day 399.

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001 // voice. day 399.

[ Contary to popular belief, not all of her reminders are sudsy faux pas at raising morale by glossing over the near-imminent end of days with errant chore routines and rehearsed domesticity for the sake of her team, but swapping one apocalypse for another version of the Armageddeon was enough to induce internal hemorrhaging on both accounts (granted, if a certain Assassin hadn't already beat them to the punch). Ascended Fridge Horror was an eternal trope in her line of business.

But Stillman remains composed in her attempt to infuse some vestige of credibility into her message. Professionalism didn't cut slack for even post-mortem workaholics. ]

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lucy. I'm a ... researcher. In light of everything that's occurred recently, I believe it's high time that I become acquainted with you all, if only to extend my support in our shared endeavors. I'll do what I can to help.

That being said: would anyone like self-defense lessons? I realize it's not that much to offer, but if anyone needs a sparring partner, I'm capable of handling firearms, blades, blunt weapons, and hand-to-hand combat. I wouldn't be against polishing my technique with your assistance, either. Payment isn't necessary, but I do have a preference for fixed appointments. Let me know if you're interested and we'll hammer out the rest of the details together. [ There's a nearly pedestrian, lilting pause as she invokes the real intent behind using the network system to contact the general public in the first place. ]

I understand that, for better or worse, we were chosen and forcibly brought to Asgard. But the extenuating reasons behind that decision — whether it's by chance or through ulterior motives — are completely beyond me. I take it some people have had quite a long stay here, and others, like myself, have only recently arrived, but it seems we all share an equal opportunity to leave. The thing is? It isn't on our terms. Only random selection at any given time of day.

I'm open to all possible theories you might have concerning any Traveler's sudden departure, however.

And while I'm at it, is there anyone out there who's returned to Asgard from their original world on more than one occassion? If so, I'd like to ask a few general questions about the experiences in each iteration. Nothing major. [ A beat. ]

Thank you for your time. I genuinely appreciate it.

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No, I don't, and it's amazing I've got one at all after...

[He stops. Not going there. And no more beating around the bush.]

I'm Desmond's friend, and... he's told me about you.

...I'm sorry, I didn't know when it would be appropriate to tell you.

[ She has half a mind to cut the audio feed right there.

However, it's not from any petty resentment that Desmond's spoken about her to others that the surge of emotions settles in her throat. It was inevitable, after he'd discovered her true intent and her defection to the Templars that he'd need someone — maybe even several — people to speak to, if nothing else. After Clay died, it wasn't even conceivable that she would view Abstergo in the same light ever again.

But the fact that he's only revealed himself aware of her as an individual now reeks of ulterior motives, and Lucy is nothing if not sincere. ]

... Anything else? Here's a hint: introducing yourself, honestly introducing yourself to me the first time around, might be a good start. [ Clipped formalities. ]

I'd hate for us to end this on bad terms.

Edited (i know how html works i promise) 2014-02-09 04:03 (UTC)

[...he feels pretty terrible right about now.]

I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to... [He trails off and takes a deep breath.]

I'm sorry. I wanted to talk to you, and I thought if I said that from the beginning then... maybe you wouldn't have wanted to.

It was a mistake. I was wrong, I'm sorry.

[He really means it. He hadn't intended to be duplicitous, not really. What he tells her is the truth, and he only hopes she believes it.]

Edited 2014-02-09 04:37 (UTC)

You thought I wouldn't want to speak with you because you know Desmond. [ Flatly. His inflections speaks volumes as to what Miles told him — nothing of small talk or the idle comments made between their shifts, but deeper sentiments, of deception that ran down to the nerve.

If there was any question as to the extent of his knowledge surrounding her, it's all but gone now. An invasion of privacy, tone saturated by the shrapnel of cloying indignation — ]

Then why bring it up at all?

We can't talk on equal terms if I know certain things about you and you don't know anything about me. It's not fair, and it's not right.

He told me because he was telling me about himself, especially after... something happened a couple months ago.

[WHY IS THIS SO HARD WHY DID HE HAVE TO SCREW UP SO BADLY]

[ u fucked up bro, ur facing the hhhHHHEAT NOW ]

Then enlighten me, seeing as how I have absolutely no idea who you are. Did he tell you everything about me, or was he kind enough to omit some of the more intimate details of my life from you?

I wouldn't know. Context is appreciated. More so, apparently, than you'd be willing to believe.

Edited (alright alright aLRIGHT) 2014-02-09 18:44 (UTC)

[crying on the inside

No but seriously there's a pause as he sighs and rubs his face and mentally prepares himself for talking about something he's... tried not to think about for the past few months.]

Not everything, of course not, that... no.

What happened was Thiazi, the queen of the frost giants, she... got into people's heads one month. She got into mine, and... I did... a lot of terrible things. I hurt people. I killed people.

[Another pause, a long one.]

I killed Desmond.

[It's hard for him to say. He remembers the moment clearly, remembers everything about it, and it's agonizing. Even after being forgiven by everyone he cares about, including Desmond, and even finally forgave himself, it's still an incredibly painful memory. If they weren't in Asgard, Desmond would be gone now. The natives he killed would never be returning. It wasn't his fault, he knows this, but a part of him will always believe that somehow, it was partially his own fault.]

Once I was finally stopped, finally came back completely in control of myself, I couldn't forgive myself.

But Desmond did forgive me, and... he told me about what happened to him, what happened to you.

[ It's a refrain she always hears, fistfuls of remorse caught in reverberation, an awful echo of contrition and apology that she's expressed on more than one occasion. And by all means, she's still fucking upset. That hasn't changed.

But even she understands that beyond any self-induced escapism, there's no way she could never deny a blatant truth. And it's there, vehement and sad, and this is no way to live, remaining lividly apoplectic at things beyond her control. Lucy Stillman won't admit anything. Not yet, not a network she doesn't implicitly trust for encryption in the first place.

But Alastair deserved something for admitting that much. ]

I'm sorry. [ Almost inaudibly. And then: ]

I'd like to speak with you, Alastair. In-person, if you wouldn't mind.

[It's a long moment before he's able to pull himself together enough to speak again.]

Sure. [It's quiet, hesitant.] Yeah, I'd... like that.

[ She's slow and precise with her words, voice softening considerably after his response. ] Just name a time and place and I'll be there. Sooner would be better than later, but I ... understand if you can't meet me right now.

[He takes a deep breath, steadying himself.]

No, you're right, sooner is better. I'm free now... or in a little bit, it doesn't make much difference.

Alright. Can you meet me in front of the library in Odin? I imagine you'll be able to find me with no huge issues. I have a pretty distinctive bomber jacket.

Yeah. That's fine. I'll be there soon.

[ And true to her word, about an hour or so after she cuts the network feed, she's waiting outside the library in the Odin district for him, hands shoved into her pockets and looking terribly apprehensive. ]

[His arm still a little delicate from the battle in Alfheim, Alastair walks the whole way on the street, no freerunning just yet.

He approaches the library and sees her from a distance, stopping in his tracks and staring for a moment, his nervousness increasing tenfold.

Alastair takes a deep breath, knowing that this is for the best, he really can't avoid it. He walks forward again, stepping up to her hesitantly.]

Hello. Lucy?

action.

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[ If Alastair's ever wanted to hear Desmond on the edge of his patience, now is the time. Curtly, ]

What are you doing?

[Oh god okay he feels even more terrible now.]

Telling the truth? Trying to, anyway.

I'm sorry, I fucked this up.

Yeah, I can see that.

I didn't tell you guys about what happened so the Assassins could all swarm over her like ants when they got the chance.

[ He's so disappointed, Alastair. ]

That's not... I didn't...

[He is so incredibly torn up right now because he screwed up so badly and now he's telling her about what he did when Thiazi had a hold of him and he just feels so emotionally raw and he doesn't know what to do or how to fix it.]

I just wanted to talk. That's all.

[Fuck fuck fuck he's an idiot, he's a failure, why did he start talking to her he should've just kept his mouth shut and never said anything ever.]

[ Ah shit, he recognizes that tone, softening his own. ]

Look, Alastair, I get what you were trying to do, and I'm not mad at you for that. But. [ A sigh, and a long pause. ]

Timing, bro.

I know.

[He's quiet for a long moment, still trying to pull himself together from everything.]

I... told her. About what I did.

[No. That's not right.]

What Thiazi did.

[ A long, slow exhalation. That was over and done with, an event since forgiven and put behind them. But if Alastair wants to bring it up, if he thinks it will help in some way... ]

Oh?

Providing context. And balance.

[A breath.]

We're going to talk in person. Her idea.

In person?

[ What is it you mean to accomplish, Lucy? ]

Keep me posted then. And don't- don't feel like you've got to be duplicitous on my account. Lucy's not some evil, remorseless villain.

I know she's not. I never thought she was.

[He sighs.]

I'll let you know.

audio; private

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