truth_is_cold

064

[Public | Audio]

I have several requests. For one, the lunch shift is no longer covered by a warden supervisor and we will require a volunteer. For another, I used to run drills aboard my ship. I know there are a few soldiers or former military here and convenient obstacle courses on which to train. If there are willing participants, I would like to start running some weekly drills again. [He may have other intentions that he wants to use this for as well.] I would like to give the training simulator some real use.

[And another thought.] I- [And he's thinking of requesting company again for that night. The network erroring made him feel a little out of sorts in a very lonely Nietzschean way. He decides ultimately not to, however.] -I suppose that will be it.

[Private to Iris | Audio]

[Since she's suitably matriarch-like and doesn't seem to be lacking in experience, he has a question for her.] May I ask you something? Depending on your number of courtiers in the past I thought you may have some reasonable advice.

OOC: You can respond or assume that he has his room door open to spam again.

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I'll keep up, sir.

[Ben could not have a more polar opposite sense of humor from his twin if he tried. Calling Rhade "kitten" never so much as crosses his mind.]

Yes. [Beat.] I do not believe I'm soulless.

I betrayed my friend once before, and Braxiatel made a request of me. I decided that I needed to show my loyalty and alleviate his concerns. I care about him more than I despise this place.

I'm not particularly religious.

But the fact that you are here confirms that there is some reason and benevolence within you, I've already seen evidence of it, and if that's part of what constitutes a soul you do have one.

[He sighs.] Would you tell me a story?

[It's unexpected enough to break through the front Ben is presenting; not much, a faint pull of his eyebrows, the slight narrowing of his eyes. In someone with as fine a control over his body language as the transgenic, though, it's telling.]

What kind of story?

Just a story. It doesn't have to be true. It can be one that makes you feel better. I've been reading one all afternoon and a change of pace would be welcome.

[And he'd like to know if Ben still thinks of them, even if he doesn't speak them aloud.]

[Dylan likewise has not thought this through as well as he should have.]

Not a chance. I claimed you first. And I won't leave you looking like you got in a bar fight. [He will fight clean. Mostly.]

[Ben is quiet for a long time, motionless, considering Rhade. The stories were discouraged at Manticore - disobedience, insubordination. So too the shadowshapes he could make on the walls with his hands and the squares of light from the hall. He's very careful not to get caught these days, but he still makes them sometimes, still shows himself birds flying away up the walls and out windows that aren't there.

He licks his lips, and his voice is even but not quite as militantly blank as before when he starts, wary.]

There's a woman, on the sixth floor of the facility. She's very beautiful, and very mild-mannered. Kind.

...She's a princess, but she's forgotten that. [He hesitates, fingers twisting together subtly behind his back, pausing to wait for any kind of backlash or reprimand.]

Dylan, you should know by know I like it rough.

[He does know what he's saying, with all the insinuations, because he remembers how Dylan used to balk a little. He doesn't know if he's gotten any better about that but he's still going to try and throw him (even if he's completely forgotten rough might be a little awkward, considering their last fight).

He starts leading them up to the simulator.]

[He folds his arms on the desk and leans in to listen. He doesn't look judgemental, just curious.]

Why did she forget? [He wonders how much of the story is happening there, he's thinking as he goes, and how much he's quietly already thought of in his spare time.]

[Ben cocks his head ever so slightly to one side, another, shorter pause - he doesn't understand what's going on here. There's a simple explanation, of course, but it's almost too simple.

He draws a slightly deeper breath.]

She's here to find out. She knows something's missing, but not what, or why, or how to get it back. Just that it's gone. [Another breath, finding his stride.]

She's from a much warmer place than here, and some of it she balances out by smiling, and some of it with clothing. Scarves, thick sweaters, like that.

Her people communicate in colors instead of sounds, though she learned to speak when she forgot who she was; now she tries to talk with the colors to find out what she's missing.

[He realizes that he's talking about Ariadne, and realizes that he has probably already made up this story. Something to explain something. But there's still creativity behind it that, something he thinks Ariadne herself might appreciate if she knew.]

Has she been able to find anyone that understands her? Or are the colors still a mystery?

Something wrong, Rhade?

[O hai, guess what pup is concerned for you?]

Count me in, sir.

[It's as much a habit, now, to explain the quirks about people when he has no ready answer; sometimes the stories change as he observes people going on about their lives.

He watches Ariadne, and the goings-on in the art room, more than he willingly allows himself to be caught out with doing.]

There are a few who have gone the other way - they knew how to speak in sounds growing up, and are learning the color language. Slowly. She hopes they can help her once they know more of the language. She's not making much progress, herself.

[Ben licks his lips again, his previous attention stance nearly dissolved by his standards; he doesn't smile but, for a brief, flashing moment, he almost looks like he might. Then he's shifting his weight uncertainly, subtly, from foot to foot.]

[Oh hello there, Kozak. There's that tug of lonliness spike again, and he realizes here is a really quick fix to get close to someone. He's greedy. He can't help himself. ...And he can still respect Kozak's "sanctity".]

If you're not busy, would you mind if I came by tonight and scratched you behind the ears?

Good. I was hoping you would be interested. [He has a feeling Blonsky could hold up.]

[He finally does smile a little bit himself. Just a slight one.]

It sounds as though she lives a very lonely life. But she still has people.

Do you think you could learn it? The language?

You were? That's surprising.

[Ben studies the smile, glances down.

He's not much one for fidgeting, but his voice is quieter.]

It's just a story.

You're a seasoned soldier with extensive experience. It is notable.

It is. But sometime stories can be told very well in pictures too. I think I would actually like you to try. [Pictures last a lot longer than shadow puppets, too. It is encouraging that Ben knows it's just a story. He wants to make the stories safe for him, but not something that motivates harm.]

[He does and he doesn't; it's a tricky parallel to bear in mind, one he lost the ability to do so with the Blue Lady long ago. Why Ariadne has a notable preference for scarves and promotes art therapy more than others is a curiosity, not something he uses to comfort himself.

He looks back up without raising his head.]

Yes, sir. The woman who operates the Art Therapy room invited me, once.

If you're afraid to go, I could come with you.

[He doesn't have an artistic bone in his body, though. A flaw of his genes that he deeply regrets.]

I'm not afraid of art.

[Abruptly he shifts gears, moving further into the room, bolder but more cautious at the same time. He's slunk in here like a feral cat enough times to know the layout, and he's only just comfortable enough that after a minimum of hesitation, he claims the chair he always chooses closest to Rhade's desk; it's not for comfort or personal preference. He has a clear shot at the exit from here, though he doesn't check it, instinctive more than deliberate.

The intelligent brown eyes are steady and intent once he's seated.]

I want to tell you another story. A true one.

[...No, he's not blushing, stop looking at him like that.]

Well, that was. Unexpected. But of course I'm not busy. Come on by.

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