hadriel | fourth; video (trouble seldom sees what she leaves behind, there's a typhoon blowin')

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fourth; video (trouble seldom sees what she leaves behind, there's a typhoon blowin')

[Oddly enough, this broadcast doesn't seem to have anything wrong with it - just a video feed of Nick sitting slouched at Delight's bar with a half-empty glass in front of her, and it's clear from the slur of her words that it wasn't her first.]

Hey! Hadriel. All'a you. Listen, I got somethin' to say, if y'all can take five seconds to quit your shitposting and listen to someone else for a change.

[She pauses to take a sip of her drink and grins sharply into the camera.]

Shitposting - that's what you kids these days are callin' it, right? [She laughs.] See, Chris? Even Grandma here can pick up on the new hip lingo sometimes!

[There's something dark and unfriendly in her words, despite the too-tight smile stretched across her face. Nick waves her hand, a silent whatever. That isn't what she really wants to say.]

The point, dear Hadriel, is this: I hate you. All'a you. Yeah, Emily, that's right - you ain't anythin' special! 'Cause I hate everyone here. Y'all are the single worst thing that's ever happened to me, and believe me, that a fuckin' accomplishment and a half.

[Nick pauses again to take another drink, expression sharpening as the grin fades from her face.]

See, I thought the worst thing that ever happened to me was my dad dyin' when I was a kid. Shit, did that ever suck beyond the tellin' of it. And then, y'know, I thought havin' to live with my shitball mother for the next ten years, that was at least as bad, if not worse. But hey, I survived that. I had one friend in that shithole town I grew up in, an' we both survived it, together, an' we left that shithole town, together, and then after a buncha years of stickin' together in the city, you know what that fucker did?

[She laughs, a high-pitched, hysterical sound that's anything but funny.]

He fuckin' friend-broke up with me! Can you believe that shit? Man. Surely that was the worst thing to ever happen to me, right? But no - wait, it gets better.

[She leans in to the camera and drops her voice, conspiratorial, like she's divulging a secret - which she is.]

So I went on one of those great American roadtrips, right? And I ended up in fucking Canada. And hey, fuck Canada - right Chris? Because in fuckin' Canada, that's where I Became a Nightbane.

[Nick pulls both hands up for the camera in a silent, sarcastic ta-da gesture.]

That's right! Uh, what's your name - Dean, wasn't it? Yeah. Y'ain't gotta go crawlin' through the caves to find a monster, 'cause guess what? [She points at herself.] I'm sittin' right the fuck here.

[The grin reappears on her face, looking more like an angry baring of her teeth than a proper smile.]

So congratu-fuckin'-lations, Hadriel - that is what all you beat out for the honor of bein' the absolute fuckin' worst thing that's ever happened to me. Give yourselves a big fuckin' pat on the back. Cheers.

[Nick raises her glass in a mock-toast and throws back the rest of her drink, then reaches over to kill the feed. She'll definitely regret this in the morning, if not sooner.]

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You get it? You fucking get it?

[Unfortunately, Nick is just determined not to be placated. Her expression sharpens into an ugly scowl as she shakes her head.]

You don't fucking get it, Chris, you just want me to shut the fuck up. Well guess what, Chris, I didn't ask you to be my fucking mother! I didn't ask you to come over here and make me coffee and tell me how brilliant my ideas aren't!

[He could argue, could tell her that he just wants to help and he's trying to be a good friend and part of that is not ignoring when something is obviously wrong. But it's not like he's really been that great of a friend lately, especially to her, so he shouldn't even try to justify it that way.

And of course there's also the factor of that he doesn't want to argue at all. Well, some part of him does, but most of him just really wants her to calm down and stop being terrifying; he's not especially used to being so off-guard in a conversation, but he really has no idea what to do now to diffuse things. Maybe just let her be angry.

Probably the best idea, at least usually, but if it's really obvious what he's doing it'll probably just upset her further, and the normal logical calm that usually settles over him when he feels a situation might be dangerous isn't happening. Everything is just a mix of conflicting emotions and hazy ideas of what to do or what might happen and it's all utterly useless; what the hell is wrong with him? She hasn't really even done anything, so there's no reason for him to be suddenly so terrified.

But, somewhere, he knows there doesn't need to be a reason, and that whether or not there is what he needs to do is take a deep breath and stay calm no matter how hard that is.]

I-I know you didn't.

[The fact that he's working so hard at not reacting only really makes things worse, in Nick's estimation - she wants a fight, wants to raze the friendship she's built with Chris to the ground and set fire to the ruins. She wants to push him into abandoning her just like everyone she's ever cared about. She wants to break herself so that she finally has the justification she's been looking for, proof that she truly is a monster, because then, won't her transformation finally be complete? She's been a monster her entire life - maybe her mother sensed it all along, and that's why she could never truly love Nick the way a mother should. Maybe Kennedy could tell, and that's why she left Nick. Maybe Andy came to that realization as well, and that's why he told her they were moving in different circles and should keep going in their disparate trajectories. Maybe everybody has always been able to see Nick for what she truly is, and it's only in Becoming that she's been able to see it, too.

Something dark and awful has been growing and building inside her for the past year, a destructive force that rises up now, high in her chest, threatening to shatter her from the inside until all of her resembles the cracked face she wears in Morphus. It's evident in the strained note her voice now takes - she has pushed herself to the point of breaking, and all it will take to force her complete undoing is one swift blow.]

Then why the fuck are you here, Chris? Go back to your real friends.

[Chris wants to ask why she's so angry at him specifically, but doesn't she have reason to be? Just like Josh did, like who knows who else does, and he should probably just be expecting this by now. Everything feels like it's going okay for a week or two at a time and then suddenly he's reminded that it's not, that everything has just been getting worse, that it's going to keep getting worse and--

Stop. Breathe, try to think; his hands are shaking now and there's a selfish part of him that just wants out of this conversation, but the rest of him is putting pieces together and knows, for the first time in this conversation, what he should do.]

It would've been... I-It would've been really easy to just ignore your entire post. I-I could've just done that.

[It's almost hard to talk and his words feel distant, but not because they aren't the ones he means to say.]

I-I'm here because you are my friend and I thought you needed help.

[And he still does think that, even though--and especially because--she's really scaring him.]

Edited 2016-07-22 19:02 (UTC)

[She's not angry with him, not really - she's angry with herself, mostly, for being wrong, for not being strong enough to push through pain without letting it affect her, for wanting, desperately, things like love and friendship and acceptance that she fears are impossible to grasp and will only cause her more pain in the end. And the volume of her anger and hate and despair is so great, it leaches outside of her and infects anyone who gets close enough for her to strike.

Nick doesn't expect the answer Chris gives her. She expects him to realize that he shouldn't be here with her and leave, and that's not what he does. There's a moment of shock that makes Nick feel like she's suspended underwater as her inebriated brain works to make sense of what Chris has said. The force inside of her that's been building pressure and threatening to explode abruptly defuses, draining away the last bit of the anger-fueled strength that's been keeping Nick going.

She laughs, weakly, looking like someone who's just been sucker-punched in the gut, and turns away from him to bury her face in her hands, the hiccuping laughs giving way to quiet sobs instead. She stumbles a few steps forward before her knees give out and she collapses to a seat on the floor behind the bar.]

[Chris can tell the moment the fire leaves her and there's a great sense of relief that she's calming down, but he isn't expecting at all for her to start crying.

What is he supposed to do?

He knows, distantly, what has supposed to do--he's not an idiot and she's not the first crying woman he's ever seen--but he can't seem to transform that knowledge into action. The adrenaline rush is dying down now that he's pretty certain he's out of danger, leaving him shaking and exhausted, and it's so hard to will himself to move.

But he does, finally, stepping past her to kneel on the ground as well and duck his head to try to catch her eyes.]

H-Hey. It's okay. Whatever's going on, just...

[She can talk to him.]

Edited 2016-07-28 04:34 (UTC)

It's not, Chris.

[Nick pulls her face out of her hands, pulling her hair back from her tear-stained face with both hands. She shakes her head, and instead of anger in her voice, there's only desperation.]

It's not OK. Nothing is OK, and I can't - I can't keep doing this.

Doing what?

[His voice is quiet, partially from sympathy and partially from shakiness, and he moves a little to sit on the floor instead of kneeling.]

Any of it. All of it.

[She throws up her hands, a wordless expression of helplessness.]

Living this fucked-up life. Being me, being Nick.

[She wipes at underneath her eyes with the heels of one palm, then the other.]

Being a monster. 'Snot like it's something I can just turn off, y'know? I can look like I'm human, but I'm not.

L-Look, I can't... I-I mean, I don't know what I'm talking about here, so I can't really...

[He can't really give her real advice, and he knows it, but he can still say what he does know and maybe it'll help.]

B-But that... What you um, turn into, i-it's just... It's just you. You look different and whatever, but it's still... You still get to choose what you do.

[And outside the Rage event, which hadn't been her fault, he'd only seen her become the doll to fight a wendigo and protect him. That's not particularly monstrous.]

That's what I'm talkin' 'bout, Chris.

[She laughs weakly, shaking her head.]

I've always been a monster. Becoming wasn't the start of that.

You're only a monster if you decide to act like one.

[That part is clear to him at this point. Being inhuman doesn't make you a monster, and being human doesn't keep you from being one either.]

[She stares up at him, eyes wide, lashes damp, expression strained from trying to cover up the pain of what she's feeling.]

I don't know how to be anything else.

[She does need help - more than even she knows - and she doesn't have the words to ask for it.]

I-I dunno, you seem to be doing fine so far. Seem pretty human to me.

[He tries to offer a weak smile to go with it, but it doesn't come across very well. Still, his words are genuine.]

[She laughs once, quietly, even as tears spring up in her eyes again.]

Yeah, I got the "being a huge fuckup" part down, don't I.

[And she drops her face into her hands again, sighing audibly.]

I don't know what to do anymore, Chris. I just don't.

[She takes a few uneven breaths and then pulls her face out of her hands again.]

Y'know, whenever things went to shit back in Chicago, I still had my jobs to work. In Vancouver, I had to learn shit about bein' a Nightbane. Here ...

[It's too much like being a child in Winchester again - aimless and stuck, without the ability to do anything about it. That changed when she became a teenager and had a goal - moving away - on the horizon, but here? There's no hope of leaving. She shrugs.]

All we do is sit around and wait for the next fucked-up thing to happen. I can't take it anymore.

Hey, you're in good company at least, right?

[They're all kind of fuckups here, even more than people usually are. He gives a long, quiet breath at the same time as she sighs, beginning to calm down a bit more but deciding to stick his hands in his hoodie pocket to hide their trembling.

He's quiet while she speaks, listening even though his gaze is a little distant, and when she finishes he turns his attention to give her a serious look.]

I'm not gonna like... Say that's not true, because it kind of is. We can't do anything about um... Whatever the gods decide to do.

[And he really hates that, not just actively but on a subconscious level he isn't even aware of. Being helpless to do much but wait to react to the next awful thing he knows is coming at some point is really bad for him, especially after everything that happened at home.

Still, even if they can't do much about the gods, that doesn't mean they can't do anything.]

But that isn't... That isn't the only thing to do. I-I mean, we can't just make the gods not do whatever, but in the time in between we've got a choice, even if it's doing something as simple as making coffee or sewing or helping at the clinic or whatever. You've just got to find something you can focus on, so that whatever the gods do is a distraction instead of your whole life.

[It's the only thing that's working for him at all, even if it's nowhere near a perfect solution. But it's better than just waiting and dreading, by a long shot.]

[It's not a bad suggestion. It's what she's often turned to in times of emotional distress, in fact - a distraction. Music and books to lose herself in, cigarettes to smoke, alcohol to drink so she'll feel something different. But books and music and cigarettes aren't available here, and alcohol just isn't doing the trick anymore, as evidenced by this meltdown.]

What do I do if I'm not good at anything? 'Cause I'm not. Nothin' 'cept fucking everything up, at least.

T-Then pick something you're not good at. I don't know if anyone here's really... Y-You know, really good at what they're doing, but they're doing it because it needs to happen.

[Whether for themselves or for other people.]

I mean, I'd never made coffee for anyone but myself, and I don't think Emily knew how to sew much, a-and isn't the guy running the clinic not a medical doctor? You just... Do something.

[Something about the amount of alcohol she's ingested makes everything Chris says ring incredibly sharp and true, to the point where she feels full to bursting with the realization. All of the people who have been brought here are a ragtag bunch of misfits, and it's absurd that she's been here for months and never once realized it until now. She breaks into a loud, hard laugh, but it's a sound of genuine amusement this time, or at least the closest thing possible in her current state.]

Jesus. We're all completely fucked, aren't we.

[Okay, is she... Actually laughing? Genuinely? He gives another quiet sigh of relief, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he responds to her comment.]

Super fucked, in both the 'up' and 'over' varieties.

[Somehow, being able to laugh about it all makes it feel a little less catastrophic. She continues giggling for a few more moments before rubbing her hands over her face.]

I feel like shit. Guess I should go sleep it off or somethin'.

[But she definitely has the feeling that things are going to be OK - not great, but tolerable.]

Yeah. That's um... That sounds like a good idea. And drink like, a whole liter of water.

[That hangover is gonna be massive otherwise. But sleeping it off sounds like a plan; even though Chris hasn't been drinking himself he thinks he's going to do the same.]

Hey now - none of that metric bullshit. That's how they talk in Canada.

[And fuck Canada. Drunk or sober, Nick's opinion of Canada doesn't change. She grins.]

Liquids are totally measured by liter in the US, Nick.

[It's said with a small grin, even if the expression is still slightly shaky.]

Yeah, but only in like, bottles of soda. And it's always just two liters. That's stupid.

fourth; video (trouble seldom sees what she leaves behind, there's a typhoon blowin')

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