[ Deep within her, she has always known this was the answer. She has thought to herself before that if she lost her mind, if she was lost to all reason and a danger to others, what would she prefer for people to do? Would she want them to hold her like a bird in a cage and hope she might be lucid one day? Would she want them to risk themselves in a vain attempt to get her back? It's not always been about the Augmenter or the soul, either; what if her magic twisted her, changed her, made her into something like the Black Rose? What if they came for her and corrupted her beyond all reckoning?
In truth, she would prefer to be put down. She would prefer that someone would understand that she would never want to live as a monster capable of harming others.
Mel reaches out and touches his arm. It's a barely-there thing, her claws held close to her palm so she doesn't harm him or his clothes. It takes a long moment for her to meet his gaze again. ]
When we find them... [ When, not if. ] When we find them, we'll set them free, one way or another. [ Whether that is opening their shackles or taking their lives. ]
And if it's what you want and what you think is best...then I will do the same for you if that day comes. I promise you I'll do what's necessary.
[ Her eyes sting. She bites down on the emotion. ]
Please promise to do the same for me, no matter what I look like. No matter what you think of me when that day comes. I don't... [ A pause. A breath. ] I don't want to hurt anyone.
[Her touch is feather-light, but it burns against him all the same, latent guilt boiling hot and heavy in his gut. He'd had to draw his weapon on Astarion, fight him as though he were any other monster in the field. Though the fact that he was a person had given Pom pause, he can't allow himself that with Mel. For all he knows he might be the only one willing to put her down when it comes right to it. He's almost certain Northly or Gale wouldn't do the same to him, would let their attachment to him get in the way. That vulnerability is dangerous; that's as true as it's ever been.]
I promise. Swear it on Purl's name. The real trick is going to be dealing with those left behind.
[A quiet sigh.]
If anything does happen to me — down the road, while we're trying to free these folks, whenever — you should tell Gale and Northly. They'd worry. They'd wonder. They're the ones most grateful for what you did for me.
[ The idea of having to face Gale and Northly sends a terrible feeling through her stomach. Like with Pom when she forced the Imprint, that same worry comes back: that such an action would irreparably damage what relationship she could ever have with either of them. And yet, she has to hold to this promise, as she asks the same of him. There is nothing else she can do.
Yet, she’s all the more aware that in one hand, she helped keep Pom alive…and in her other hand, she may be the one holding his life in her hands. Mel’s gaze is steely to prevent more emotion from welling up, and she nods. ]
If it happens, I’ll tell them. We’ll make ample preparations.
[ She’ll ensure there is a way for Jayce and Viktor to know, too, if she decides to go looking for people in Patho-Gen. Her gaze finds Pom’s. ]
We have to do what we can, first, to try to prevent that for all of us. While we might not be able to affect the Augmenter, we should try to discover if there was anything preceding what happened. If there are ways we can soothe the souls within us to prevent the worst of it.
[ The Imprint, likely. She can only assume that is what will keep them stable, and the idea sickens her. ]
[Pom hms to himself, his mind on the same page. His eyes fall to his hands.]
Letting it out helps, but it doesn't last long. Only thing that's quieted my Soul down is being with others. Imprints.
[And that's been difficult to accept, given his intense need for privacy and distrust of people in general. His brow knits; he hates considering that he might have been going about this the wrong way this entire time.]
Then you got folks like Viktor, who get along with his. Someone else suggested letting them merge, blending ourselves and the Souls until there ain't much of a distinction.
Because comfort without action, without resolution, doesn't often leave a lasting mark. [ In some situations, certainly it does, but not like this. ] The Imprints are...
[ A problem. A boon. Too vulnerable. ]
They help, I can't deny that. But it's...difficult. It rankles you too, doesn't it?
[ Again, a stab of guilt. It's quieter this time, though she doesn't think it will ever go away. Pom had others before her but she still shouldn't have put him in a situation where it added to his difficulties.
About Viktor, well. She has to hum about that, considering. ]
Others have suggested the same to me. That cooperating with the other soul would make things easier. But it... I can't. Not if there's a chance I'll lose myself.
[ And what about that other soul? Does it even want to be so close? What if her own soul snuffs it out, devours it? It seems cruel. ]
[He pushes a sigh from deep in his chest as Mel cuts right to the heart of the matter on all fronts.]
I can't risk it, either. Can't risk losing myself to this other Soul... or to the Imprinting. I don't—
[The words stick in his throat, and it takes another breath to get them out. 'Difficult' is a kinder word than he'd use for it.]
I don't want to be... controlled in some way. And I know the Imprinting ain't like that, but it feels like it sometimes. Like I can't help myself with them - like I'd do anything they asked, no matter how loathsome. And the whole time, that other Soul in me wants it too, and I don't know where what it wants ends and what I want begins.
[ Because she does. It's the tightrope they're all walking but it's one the both of them are most keenly aware of. Ignore one's Imprints and lose themselves to madness; give in and find themselves at the mercy of what happens to those people, but possibly to be subsumed in the other soul's whimsies. The line between what is real and what is pantomimed in a phantom bond becomes murky. Often, she wonders if some of these alliances and friendships — she supposes that's what they can be called — are real.
It rails against something deep in her chest, deeper than that other soul. It beckons claws around her fragile heart and threatens to squeeze.
If these are all lies, then how many people has she manipulated to aid her, to be friendly to her, to be by her side? How many people is she lying to? And when will they leave, so she can be alone (and lonely) once more? ]
It's a mess. Everything's too tangled. [ She rises and comes to sit beside him on the couch, still maintaining enough distance to not touch, but close enough to reach with no trouble at all. ] I start to question what's real. If all of this is just fabricated and if I'm tugging people along by strings.
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In truth, she would prefer to be put down. She would prefer that someone would understand that she would never want to live as a monster capable of harming others.
Mel reaches out and touches his arm. It's a barely-there thing, her claws held close to her palm so she doesn't harm him or his clothes. It takes a long moment for her to meet his gaze again. ]
When we find them... [ When, not if. ] When we find them, we'll set them free, one way or another. [ Whether that is opening their shackles or taking their lives. ]
And if it's what you want and what you think is best...then I will do the same for you if that day comes. I promise you I'll do what's necessary.
[ Her eyes sting. She bites down on the emotion. ]
Please promise to do the same for me, no matter what I look like. No matter what you think of me when that day comes. I don't... [ A pause. A breath. ] I don't want to hurt anyone.
no subject
That vulnerability is dangerous; that's as true as it's ever been.]
I promise. Swear it on Purl's name. The real trick is going to be dealing with those left behind.
[A quiet sigh.]
If anything does happen to me — down the road, while we're trying to free these folks, whenever — you should tell Gale and Northly. They'd worry. They'd wonder. They're the ones most grateful for what you did for me.
no subject
Yet, she’s all the more aware that in one hand, she helped keep Pom alive…and in her other hand, she may be the one holding his life in her hands. Mel’s gaze is steely to prevent more emotion from welling up, and she nods. ]
If it happens, I’ll tell them. We’ll make ample preparations.
[ She’ll ensure there is a way for Jayce and Viktor to know, too, if she decides to go looking for people in Patho-Gen. Her gaze finds Pom’s. ]
We have to do what we can, first, to try to prevent that for all of us. While we might not be able to affect the Augmenter, we should try to discover if there was anything preceding what happened. If there are ways we can soothe the souls within us to prevent the worst of it.
[ The Imprint, likely. She can only assume that is what will keep them stable, and the idea sickens her. ]
no subject
Letting it out helps, but it doesn't last long. Only thing that's quieted my Soul down is being with others. Imprints.
[And that's been difficult to accept, given his intense need for privacy and distrust of people in general. His brow knits; he hates considering that he might have been going about this the wrong way this entire time.]
Then you got folks like Viktor, who get along with his. Someone else suggested letting them merge, blending ourselves and the Souls until there ain't much of a distinction.
no subject
[ A problem. A boon. Too vulnerable. ]
They help, I can't deny that. But it's...difficult. It rankles you too, doesn't it?
[ Again, a stab of guilt. It's quieter this time, though she doesn't think it will ever go away. Pom had others before her but she still shouldn't have put him in a situation where it added to his difficulties.
About Viktor, well. She has to hum about that, considering. ]
Others have suggested the same to me. That cooperating with the other soul would make things easier. But it... I can't. Not if there's a chance I'll lose myself.
[ And what about that other soul? Does it even want to be so close? What if her own soul snuffs it out, devours it? It seems cruel. ]
no subject
I can't risk it, either. Can't risk losing myself to this other Soul... or to the Imprinting. I don't—
[The words stick in his throat, and it takes another breath to get them out. 'Difficult' is a kinder word than he'd use for it.]
I don't want to be... controlled in some way. And I know the Imprinting ain't like that, but it feels like it sometimes. Like I can't help myself with them - like I'd do anything they asked, no matter how loathsome. And the whole time, that other Soul in me wants it too, and I don't know where what it wants ends and what I want begins.
no subject
[ Because she does. It's the tightrope they're all walking but it's one the both of them are most keenly aware of. Ignore one's Imprints and lose themselves to madness; give in and find themselves at the mercy of what happens to those people, but possibly to be subsumed in the other soul's whimsies. The line between what is real and what is pantomimed in a phantom bond becomes murky. Often, she wonders if some of these alliances and friendships — she supposes that's what they can be called — are real.
It rails against something deep in her chest, deeper than that other soul. It beckons claws around her fragile heart and threatens to squeeze.
If these are all lies, then how many people has she manipulated to aid her, to be friendly to her, to be by her side? How many people is she lying to? And when will they leave, so she can be alone (and lonely) once more? ]
It's a mess. Everything's too tangled. [ She rises and comes to sit beside him on the couch, still maintaining enough distance to not touch, but close enough to reach with no trouble at all. ] I start to question what's real. If all of this is just fabricated and if I'm tugging people along by strings.