retested | IC Inbox

[When she'd told him to 'do it himself', she'd only meant breaking the bottles in general, not hurting himself with one. It hadn't even occurred to her to imply that, though of he had she'd have felt it to be no less than what he deserved.

As for hurting oneself...she's no stranger to it. It's a violence she inflicts upon herself with frightening regularity, a reliable go-to for forcibly compacting all the rage and self-hatred she carries in every waking moment down to a manageable level. The largest scars line her thighs in nearly measured rows, planned as carefully as any device blueprint, while the ones along her forearms are more haphazard.

At another time, seeing Javert harm himself might result in some small level of commiseration. Right now, though? He's right in thinking she'd find it performative. Another targeted insult, maybe, intended to dig at just one more of her failings.]

I don't want your fuckin' apologies. [Not right now, at least; she's incapable of believing he means them sincerely when she's this fucked up, consumed utterly by the darkest parts of herself.] It's time you paid the fuck attention. No more misconceptions.

[There are tears rolling down her cheeks. She isn't even aware of them.]

Are you listening to me now, you pig?

Edited 2023-09-07 22:04 (UTC)

[Javert turns around and looks her full in the face. He studies her carefully as if seeing her for the first time, her ruined expression, the darkness in her eyes, the tears spilling down her cheeks. And he receives them all with a dire calm, his own regrets buried beneath a veneer of icy emotionlessness. A very small piece of him admires her ferocity, but that part is consumed wholly by his busy self-deprecations.

She is another that is stuck beneath Aunamee's bony thumb, isn't she.

Of course, a Pig. Oink, oink. He deserves no better a moniker. It is no coincidence that the pig statuette modeled after himself sits on a high-up shelf, staring, frozen, into a happy void.

Javert nods, stilted, never breaking his gaze.]

I am listening.

[It has nothing to do with Aunamee, though Javert has no way of knowing that. Pigs is the way John had thought of his test subjects. It's how Amanda's thought of cops ever since Detective Matthews had planted heroin on her when she'd never touched the stuff in her life, got her locked away for years on a charge she was wholly innocent of, and eventually drove her into the arms of the drug when she had no other way to escape the abuse she faced behind bars. So what else is she supposed to call Javert, this son of a bitch cop who even John would despise for driving her to this point? He'd stuck Matthews in a game in return for everything the detective had done to Amanda, and if he were here to see this he'd spare no sympathy for Javert, either.]

Good. Because I'm not gonna repeat myself.

[She forces herself to stand taller again, faking a confidence she doesn't actually feel, but as her full height is a mere 5'2" that's not saying a whole hell of a lot.]

I'll cooperate with you. For Her sake and her sake alone. I've given her every cell in my body and that's never gonna change.

But we're not friends. We're never gonna be friends, motherfucker. I hate you. You disgust me. And if you use what happened here against me...if you spill any of this...I don't give a shit that we're on the same side, I'll fuckin' kill you. Are we clear?

Edited 2023-09-07 22:50 (UTC)

That would be your right to take.

[For all the atrocities Javert has committed, all the blood he's shed by his own hands -- he was never a bad cop. He doesn't remember it this way, because every single one of his human memories (the ones that remain, for they are all nothing but slivers and fragments now that he is left to piece together into an incoherent whole) are mired in a thick black stain. Where he once cast himself as a righteous hero, he has recast as the villain; what he once thought was probity and following the letter of the law, he now sees in himself as nothing better than selfishness and crude ambition and unwillingness to see beyond the written word.

If he knew what she was thinking, he would take the insults, and resolutely agree with every word.

That isn't what would endear him to her, that's for sure.]

Nothing leaves this room. I swear to you upon my death-scars and my blood, and upon my duty to Her, that not a word shall slither off. Not even of our agreement to our mutual allies.

[He lowers his head in a tilt, eyes half-lidded.]

Unless you wish it.

Furthermore, heft the blame in my direction for whatever credit you are unwilling to take, and take only that which you want. I don't mind.

[It has better not slip to any allies she doesn't specify first, she thinks, because she trusts a handful of her Fog associates about as far as she can throw them. AM is of course the first to come to mind.]

Aunamee and Noa--if he's still here--can know. About our agreement. Not the other shit.

[The only blame Amanda's willing to take right now consists of beating herself up for being so pathetic that Javert could drive her to such ruin so easily. She'll make herself pay for this weakness later, of that there's no doubt. Incapable of getting and keeping her emotions under control, she lives a self-inflicted penance for it that will never end. Her emotion is also her weakness, John had once said of her, when he still harbored hope that she might one day overcome it. Too bad for the both of them that his "cure" had only made it exponentially worse, leading directly to both their deaths.]

Don't contact me again unless it's about the plan. [Her voice devolves into a watery croak once more.] Apart from that, you can go fuck yourself.

[One day, they may be able to move past this. Right now it's far too raw, too fresh, for her to even consider it.]

[Already done, Javert thinks to himself bitterly. He has fucked himself over quite thoroughly with this debacle.

Outwardly, Javert bows his head in a curt, yet respectful, nod. Perhaps later, when the stifling whirlwind of feeling has loosed their grips, they may look back on this exchange more clearly, more rationally. For now, all there is is one half of the party damning herself for her weakness, and the other half damning himself for his blindness. Self-absorption, always prepared to sabotage the best of attempts at outreach.

Amanda is fortunate that secrets are safe with Javert. He is far too principled, far too honest about his peculiar flavor of service to the Fog to ever disclose what transpired between them. She will find out before long, when the dust as settled, just how far he is willing to go to strengthen their cooperation with one another.]

Noted. I will leave you to your own devices. You will know it when the plan is ready for the next step up.

Rest well, and take comfort in the fact that I am apparently quite practiced in the art of getting myself screwed over.

[Amanda nods. It's all she can give him by way of a response; if she were to open her mouth again, she'd probably say something she'd regret before too long. Then she turns on her heel and stomps her way out of his house, slamming the front door closed behind her.]

[After his meeting with Javert, Noa doesn't waste a minute.

The minute that vampire's out the door he's got his laptop open and is firing off a message to a well known address, even as his paws shake.]

Amanda?

Is it true?

You're here?

[If Amanda, for whatever reason, chose to simply bust in through the door instead of answering, she would find nothing unexpected.]

Yeah. It's me.

[She would have reached out to him herself if she were in a better state of mind, but she's been locked in a state of self-punishment and mental anguish ever since...]

I assume Javert sent you. I told him to let you know, if you were still around.

[There is so much he wants to say. So, so much. Instead-]

He was, unfortunately.

[Let it be said that while he doesn't dislike Javert he does not especially like him either.]

Are you in Dyster right now?

I'm at my house there.

[He doesn't...he doesn't want to just keep this to text.]

I'll meet you there.

[She's hardly left Dyster since her conversation with Javert; she knows the Fog God is everywhere, can hear her wherever she might be, but She still feels closest in the true Dyster, and Amanda needs to feel as close as possible to her replacement parent in this soul-crushing time. So it's not too long before she's knocking at Noa's door, her priest cape as ever-present as it had been before her disappearance.]

[The temptation to immediately say 'come in' so that he can just tackle a faerie with full force is...tragically strong.

Instincts bad. Don't do that.

Somehow instead, he pushes the door open from the shoe bench of the cozy dwelling, and once he's able to see her just...stares.

There she is. There she is! There-]

I didn't know...

[Oh, god he sounds pitiful. Ugh.] Mngh. I should get the tea...coffee? Ugh it's afternoon- I have...

...There's so much to talk about, [he finishes, lamely, drooping a little.] ...Bad and good, I suppose...

[As much as she cares for Noa, a sudden tackle-hug from anyone, even him, would probably trigger a negative response of one sort of another. It's just the way her training rewired her.]

Tea. [Said quietly and without thinking it over. John preferred tea to coffee, so Amanda does, too.]

I heard some of the bad from Javert. [The hatred she places on his name is so deep it's practically tangible.] Just about the Fog God being caged. That's why I didn't seek you out. I've been...in my own head about it.

Edited 2023-09-27 03:24 (UTC)

Tea it is. [He is not missing that hatred, and so rather than acknowledge the name with any words, he just nods.] It...

...I have a set of keys I have to give you. Just before your arrival...Atem vanished, [Noa says quietly, glancing up on his way to the kitchen.]

...They're for the workshop. ...He stayed busy the entire time; earned a cloak, and left an impression for everyone as long as he could.

[Hopping to the counter, he focuses on getting a kettle going.] ...I think we need the tea before getting into that though.

[She feels touched to be receiving those keys. She'd intended on taking Atem under her wing as an apprentice shortly before vanishing, only to discover upon her return that he'd risen to the top of the ranks and likewise disappeared in her absence. It had been a sucker punch to hear that first time.]

Thank you. I'll put them to good use.

I know you will, [he says quietly, the kettle slowly bubbling beside them. Just as quietly he says-] ...I missed you. ...I know she can't control who stays, but it never helps it hurt less, when that happens.

[She'd have missed Noa, too, if she hadn't spent the past two years unconscious and unaware. It takes her a few moments to figure out what to say next, and when she finally opens her mouth...

...well, it doesn't matter what she intended to say, because all that comes out is a strangled sob she fails to choke back.]

I have heard rumor of your return.

Will you confirm it for me, Amanda? Will you respond to this message?

Yeah, it's me.

I'm sorry I couldn't come save you, but I'm relieved you're out now. I still don't know where that fucking well is.

[Not "I couldn't come save you because I didn't know where it was"; even if she had known, she wouldn't have been able to do a thing for him. Javert's description of the Fog God's plight horrified Amanda enough to stay her hand. Not that any of it keeps her from hating herself for her inaction...but she's been very deep in self-hatred overall ever since she got back.]

[Ah. Screw it.

Noa sits on his haunches, forelimbs spread like someone asking for a hug. Frankly, he is, but he can't bring the words to reality, no matter how he tries.]

It's all right, Amanda.

[It's not all right. He still shudders when he thinks about it, a full body anger that momentarily makes him blind. He still dreams about twisting off every one of their heads.]

We are adept at suffering, aren't we? And yet we survive.

You sound so much like someone else right now.

[Suffering, survival, the token attempt to comfort her as everything goes further to hell. It's disorienting, the way she can practically hear Aunamee's written words spoken aloud in another man's voice. A ghost, haunting her.]

Did Javert send you? I told him to let you know I was here.

He alerted me of your presence, Amanda, but it was my choice to seek you out. He does not guide me in the way that he thinks.

I've missed you.

That's not how I meant it. I fucking hate that piece of shit, I'd never presume to call him your guide.

I want to meet with you again. Face to face.

Edited 2023-10-05 10:29 (UTC)

[Amanda resists Noa's wordless invitation for a few moments--she must already look beyond pathetic for crying so suddenly, why can't she just be stronger--but she caves soon enough, wrapping her arms around the small cat-boy and weeping into his shoulder.]

Why am I not good enough?

[Because that must be why she disappeared: Amanda is lacking in something, whether that's the strength and force of will needed to hold onto her place in this world, or proof of devotion to the Fog God. She wasn't good enough to be John's successor despite her overwhelming love for him, and despite all the blood and tears and suffering and adoration she's poured into her service to the Fog, she's not good enough for that, either.]

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CW: self-harm mention (cutting)

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WHAT A FABULOUS ICON | CW: heroin, prison abuse, police corruption

Thank Tal2!

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Sep 11, Noonish

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<gameover> -> action!

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<saturnschild> (after the event)

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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, AMANDA. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 102.92.004.06 * gameover has joined 102.92.004.06 <gameover> This is Amanda. <gameover> If you need to contact me, do so here. <gameover>** DO NOT waste my time with stupid shit.