[ Johanna says, instantly. She doesn't want to talk about Seven, even if it is technically home. She doesn't want to describe Panem, even if she doesn't have to get into what happened there. That's dangerous territory to begin with, and besides, Johanna gets high to forget all that. She doesn't get high to spill her guts out, because that can lead to people caring about you, and she really, really doesn't have any time for that.
Johanna knows she's a dangerous person to care about, and she wants to make sure everyone else knows, too. ]
Tell me what 'getting my mind on their wavelength' means. I'm pretty sure it isn't a firefly-induced metaphor.
No. It's not. I'm trying to reach out to them. Insects are ...they have very simple minds, but so different from anyone warm blooded. Hive insects are easier. I'm constructed to be part of a group mind - it makes being a rugged individualist a little counterintuitive.
[She speaks softly, and she's clearly trying for matter-of-fact, as though Johanna already knew everything Bianca is.
She knows Johanna doesn't, and although nothing in her voice or body language betrays anything but languorous contentment, there's an icicle of doubt perceptible behind those things.]
I shall tell the story of the ship that brought me here.
[ Johanna asks, almost lazily. The bugs are starting to take effect, but not so much so that Johanna doesn't recognize Bianca's unusual choice of words. ]
What, like designed? [ Because fuck design. Fuck what anyone says about you. Johanna firmly believes a person should be who they want, and not who they're told to be. But it's also an idea meant to ease Bianca's doubt, because Johanna doesn't care who Bianca is made to be -- she cares about who Bianca chooses to be. ]
Not personally. My species - we were altered a great deal, in the early days. Some of it's very useful.
[She rests her head on Johanna's shoulder and tries to keep her relief to herself. Given the closeness and the fireflies, she may not be very successful, but that's beside the point.
She starts to speak in a storyteller's singsong, by way of changing the subject.]
There is a great barge, that cruises no sea, but instead travels between the worlds. Somewhat like the door in Hadriel's colosseum, she gathered her passengers from a vast range of realities.
...I suspect she fed on us, also. But the price was worth it, for me.
[ Johanna notices that Bianca relaxes, just a little. She's not entirely sure why -- Johanna isn't an especially warm or comforting person, but at least Bianca won't be all nervous and uptight. That's no fun, especially with these drug fireflies floating around. ]
Must've been pretty good, to be worth getting fed on. Exploitation is kinda the worst.
She gave me my life back. And she gave me a timeship.
[Bianca's nervous for good reasons: the mirror barge basically required her to sign up to torture and break those under her power, and she doesn't need to have known Johanna very long to anticipate her feelings about that.
But it's also true that she would have faded into non-existence without it. She had almost let herself forget that: and remembering it, Bianca's able to set aside her real guilt and recast the entire experience as justified.]
There were two ships. Both gathered people from the ends of their lives; both required them to learn, and grow, and change, before they could be freed.
One was a literal mirror of the other. On one ship, they worked with love, trust, and responsibility; on the other, fear and cruelty and brutality.
[ Johanna absentmindedly pokes at the fireflies, watching them buzz around as she antagonizes them. The longer she lies here, the more relaxed she becomes. Not quite happy, but not bristling with anger and hostility, either.
Still. Bianca's story sounds like prison, life or no, but Johanna isn't going to argue. She's seen people take to their captors in more fucked-up ways than this. ]
I'm guessing you worked on the other?
[ Johanna keeps her voice carefully flat, but the fireflies' spell is broken, just a bit. She knows what Bianca is going to say. She can figure out what Bianca has done, and Johanna doesn't like it one bit. ]
[Bianca is silent for a long moment, while conflicting emotions chase themselves around her mind like a different, darker kind of firefly. Guilt and shame are there, and defensive anger hot on their heels. What was I supposed to do, just let myself die?
Finally, Bianca breathes deeply, leaning on the scent of Johanna's skin and the wiry strength of her bones, and shoves all the emotions roughly out of sight.]
Yes. Yes, I did.
[She lets the moment, the one in which she's very deliberately refraining from explaining, excusing or apologising, hang for another breath, and then continues speaking.]
The two barges drew closer to each other, influenced each other. We would find ourselves experiencing our counterparts' lives and memories. Then, finally, they collided. I found myself trapped on the first barge for a month while the two of them battled for supremacy. Battled to decide which of the two would continue existing.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Johanna says, instantly. She doesn't want to talk about Seven, even if it is technically home. She doesn't want to describe Panem, even if she doesn't have to get into what happened there. That's dangerous territory to begin with, and besides, Johanna gets high to forget all that. She doesn't get high to spill her guts out, because that can lead to people caring about you, and she really, really doesn't have any time for that.
Johanna knows she's a dangerous person to care about, and she wants to make sure everyone else knows, too. ]
Tell me what 'getting my mind on their wavelength' means. I'm pretty sure it isn't a firefly-induced metaphor.
no subject
[She speaks softly, and she's clearly trying for matter-of-fact, as though Johanna already knew everything Bianca is.
She knows Johanna doesn't, and although nothing in her voice or body language betrays anything but languorous contentment, there's an icicle of doubt perceptible behind those things.]
I shall tell the story of the ship that brought me here.
no subject
[ Johanna asks, almost lazily. The bugs are starting to take effect, but not so much so that Johanna doesn't recognize Bianca's unusual choice of words. ]
What, like designed? [ Because fuck design. Fuck what anyone says about you. Johanna firmly believes a person should be who they want, and not who they're told to be. But it's also an idea meant to ease Bianca's doubt, because Johanna doesn't care who Bianca is made to be -- she cares about who Bianca chooses to be. ]
Mm. That should be interesting. Go on.
no subject
[She rests her head on Johanna's shoulder and tries to keep her relief to herself. Given the closeness and the fireflies, she may not be very successful, but that's beside the point.
She starts to speak in a storyteller's singsong, by way of changing the subject.]
There is a great barge, that cruises no sea, but instead travels between the worlds. Somewhat like the door in Hadriel's colosseum, she gathered her passengers from a vast range of realities.
...I suspect she fed on us, also. But the price was worth it, for me.
no subject
[ Johanna notices that Bianca relaxes, just a little. She's not entirely sure why -- Johanna isn't an especially warm or comforting person, but at least Bianca won't be all nervous and uptight. That's no fun, especially with these drug fireflies floating around. ]
Must've been pretty good, to be worth getting fed on. Exploitation is kinda the worst.
no subject
[Bianca's nervous for good reasons: the mirror barge basically required her to sign up to torture and break those under her power, and she doesn't need to have known Johanna very long to anticipate her feelings about that.
But it's also true that she would have faded into non-existence without it. She had almost let herself forget that: and remembering it, Bianca's able to set aside her real guilt and recast the entire experience as justified.]
There were two ships. Both gathered people from the ends of their lives; both required them to learn, and grow, and change, before they could be freed.
One was a literal mirror of the other. On one ship, they worked with love, trust, and responsibility; on the other, fear and cruelty and brutality.
no subject
[ Johanna absentmindedly pokes at the fireflies, watching them buzz around as she antagonizes them. The longer she lies here, the more relaxed she becomes. Not quite happy, but not bristling with anger and hostility, either.
Still. Bianca's story sounds like prison, life or no, but Johanna isn't going to argue. She's seen people take to their captors in more fucked-up ways than this. ]
I'm guessing you worked on the other?
[ Johanna keeps her voice carefully flat, but the fireflies' spell is broken, just a bit. She knows what Bianca is going to say. She can figure out what Bianca has done, and Johanna doesn't like it one bit. ]
no subject
Finally, Bianca breathes deeply, leaning on the scent of Johanna's skin and the wiry strength of her bones, and shoves all the emotions roughly out of sight.]
Yes. Yes, I did.
[She lets the moment, the one in which she's very deliberately refraining from explaining, excusing or apologising, hang for another breath, and then continues speaking.]
The two barges drew closer to each other, influenced each other. We would find ourselves experiencing our counterparts' lives and memories. Then, finally, they collided. I found myself trapped on the first barge for a month while the two of them battled for supremacy. Battled to decide which of the two would continue existing.