tearmeanewone | TREIZE + [Action]

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TREIZE + [Action]

[Forward Dated - April 20th]

[Action]

[The structure burned.]

[Elizabeth watched it with an air of simple philosophy. It had only taken one little spark, and the whole forest-based waystation for the sheltering of New Feathers lost in the woods had gone up. The bedding, the supplies, the spare clothes, everything. From one little flame.]

[Just as she was one little flame. One little flame that would baptise the world-- every world-- in fire. Beginning with this one. She would burn it all to the ground if it meant being more trouble than she was worth, she would burn it to the ground if it meant snuffing out the foolish things her better-off had grown to cherish.]

[Disappointment, and pain, and despair. These would be the things that would make her live up to her true potential, turn her into her father's daughter. And it would only start when she left.]

[She walked away from the blaze, breathing and feeling the sheer amount of power that was ripping through her shoulders and arms. The siphon was a kind of leash, put on her by her father, never removed for fear that she would find herself just as obedient as when it had been on. Her fears were realized. Tears extended glad, welcoming arms to her, nearly opened right as she passed them they were so eager, but she didn't reach back. She did not believe in Lutece, she only believed in the word of the Prophet-- science had cured her.]

[But apparently, that science had not followed her to Luceti. And she was older, and stronger, than her younger self. Whatever the Malnosso had in place, it only held her back so much. It was possible to use her power... and it might also be necessary. She was alone, and she only feared dying before her work was done, losing the memory of what she had to accomplish. She extended a trembling hand, and opened one-- an abandoned, bloody crossbow for her troubles, and only a twinge of pain and a moderate increase in heart rate. She shouldered it and pressed on, to the item shop where she might arm herself for the coming night.]

[When darkness falls, Elizabeth walks out of the forest, pushing a strange device. The thing protests when she tries to start it up, and Elizabeth realizes with some trepidation that whatever she's pulled out of the tear, it doesn't have an endless amount of fuel in it. It'll be no more useful than scrap once it does.]

[But it starts, and Elizabeth climbs in and takes off, hovering just above the various community buildings. Despite the recent upheaval, it seems quiet. The silence is like nails on a chalkboard, Elizabeth can almost imagine what deplorable things are happening in the homes below. What dreams are being dreamt, what happiness is being lived in complete naivete.]

[In the dark, she sees the roof of the house she had allowed Booker and the Luteces to live in while she hid herself away. Every day Dewitt lived was another day Elizabeth grit her teeth and prayed for patience, every day he attempted to reach out to her, every moment she saw him drinking to forget how he had abandoned her. No more.]

[Elizabeth picked up a bottle, lit the rag on the end, and dropped it over the side of her transport, aiming for the roof of that quiet little house.]

Amen.

((OOC: Elizabeth has been AU'd to a version of herself who was left to be broken by Comstock. She has quite an arsenal of improvised weaponry, as well as a few tear and vigor-related tricks up her sleeve, but she'll be dropping incendiary things in a line straight through the village-- obviously, no unwanted property damage will occur. But anybody who wants some damage/wants to face off with a superpowered maniac with daddy issues, who pretty much thinks you're a filthy sinner, COME AT HER, BRO! Only stipulation is she's finally going to be stopped by Gai, but if she's not a match for your character she'll turn tail and retreat.))

((Replies will come from

godspeedthyjudgement!))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Booker smells the fire in his dream before he wakes. It's fire on a prairie and there are children screaming and women sobbing and his hands are sticky and red and the heat of fire sends him shooting out of bed with a scream dying before it starts.

He's getting better at that.

It's the last calm thought he has, sweat only just cooling on his forehead when he sees the smoke curling and billowing lower and lower on the ceiling - and his heart drops through his stomach because he knows this.]

Shit.

[Booker isn't sure how long it takes to get out of the house with the Luteces close at hand, but they all get out before the roof buckles under the sudden lack of support beams.

Booker has his shotgun, like always when there's trouble and sees something floating in the sky and it's all so Columbia all over again that he feels a familiar exhaustion of running the city rampant.]

What the he -

[Squinting against the darkness and the flickering light of their burning house, Booker wonders...and hopes he's wrong when he quietly says - in awe and fear, as he should:]

Elizabeth?

[Elizabeth only turns back when she hears a telltale crack of the roof beams. She knows she should smile, rejoice that Booker's sloth had been his death sentence, but she can't. Either way, he's dying-- he wrote his own fate by his own choices.]

[At least, she thought that until she sees a figure outlined in the light from the fire that's consuming the house. A man with a shotgun, Booker DeWitt. Elizabeth turned, her skirt blowing from the updraft of the fire, her short hair blown back.]

As I live and breathe-- if it isn't the False Shepherd, crawling out of his bottle to save himself again. I should have realized. You never did anything quietly.

[The words send a chill down his spine but he ignores it for the sake of:]

Elizabeth!

[At hearing her familiar voice he seems to have turned on his long forgotten 'parent voice'. The one that was supposed to be used when children were being very bad.]

What the hell are you - [He gestures back to the burning house, as if to poorly illustrate exactly what the hell she's doing.] - what are you thinking?! You could have kill -

[...And he stops. Because as she floats closer, as he sees her face illuminated by the veritable pyre behind them...Booker can see that she is not Elizabeth.

Not his Elizabeth at least. Everything about her seems muted. Confined. Less free than the girl he knew would allow herself to be here. He knows the shift is still going on and that...hopefully is what's happening here. But it doesn't make this - or what's happening any less real.]

...You're not Elizabeth.

[And yet he's not doing anything to stop her.]

[How laughable. He was attempting to lecture her, as though he had any right to. Elizabeth might have laughed, if she could remember how to laugh.]

I am Elizabeth. Did you think that I would stay the same bright-eyed, hopeful girl you left to Comstock? That I wouldn't feel anything towards you but the same blind faith I had when you disappeared into thin air?

Time marches on, False Shepherd. Whether you are there to watch it march or not.

Left? [Booker scoffs, incredulous that this a reality he is completely unfamiliar with. Yes he'd met what he supposed would be this version of Elizabeth when she was older, seen what she had wrought and how his failures had helped shape that.

-it wasn't the indoctrination...it was time. Time rots everything Booker. Even hope.

Booker stutter jumps into excuses and explanations quick as lightning. He so very much doesn't want to have blame cast on him for things he had no control over.]

Elizabeth I don't -- I got you out. I got you out of there, I know it took a long time but I didn't leave you.

At least...the you I know.

[He finishes lamely, at a complete loss. Really - he knows he doesn't have a leg to stand on with this woman. The New Prophet. And if she very well liked to she could kill him right now.

Booker tries not to think in terms of 'maybe that would be good for her' just because Luceti doesn't seem to have a firm grasp on the concept of death and it's permanence. He tries not to think about how he would still be thinking that regardless of whether or not he would stay dead because he doesn't want to leave Elizabeth.

His Elizabeth.]

And what did she do to deserve that?! [In milliseconds, Elizabeth as the calm, cold, collected figure is infuriated and emotional. Her knuckles are turning white as she grips the railing of her flying apparatus, nearly coming over the side she's so impassioned by her screaming.]

[Elizabeth takes two breaths in an attempt to control herself.] I see her, everywhere. I'm seeing behind so many doors. The siphon may keep her ignorant, but I have climbed higher than she has just by virtue of my age. I see her stealing happiness away from the rest of us, the ones she left behind. I fought just as hard as she did, I begged just as she did, and you never came for me. Why was she more worthy of being saved, while I was made to suffer?

She wasn't more worthy, she and I are the same. And when she comes back here-- [A brilliant burst of flame comes to Elizabeth's fingers, and it grows as she holds it there.] --she will be as alone as I am.

[Booker feels ice settling into his lungs and heart as she speaks, making it hard to breath without feeling some kind of pain. He hates this. He hates it so violently and bitterly he's shocked he isn't shaking with it.

He wants to tell her he isn't her. He can't see all the doors, go through all the doors and right all his wrongs in every door. The Luteces tried, he tried, Elizabeth tried. Everyone tried and it still all ended tarnished or broken every time. The best they could hope for was a future just a little less banged up than it might have been with his fingerprints on everything.

And then the fire erupts in her palm and Booker is somehow...unsurprised. Of course, he didn't expect or know that Elizabeth - whichever variation of her this was - had Vigors at her disposal. But then again he didn't know one this..angry. He can't call her crazy, but he can call her mad. ]

I ain't gonna try and argue with you. I can't.

[He knows he can't. He isn't that smart. It's pointless to do so when the person you're arguing with is on par with God in her omniscience.

Though, Booker was hardly ever one to take a beating lying down. His own hand curves and his nails grow to talons, black and thick like beetle husks and feathers sprout up and down the back of his hand. He looks lost.]

Just...don't make me do this. Please.

[Elizabeth actually looks shaken for a moment. She hadn't expected Booker to actually use force against her, but maybe she had been fooled by him all along. Maybe he'd never hurt her because his debt relief required she be uninjured--yes, it wasn't that he didn't want to hurt her, he just couldn't if he was to get what he ultimately wanted. Or...]

[...or he cared about the Elizabeth he'd rescued enough to kill her. In the most painful, gruesome way possible. No! No, he was only trying to save himself again! She had to strike before he got her first!]

But truthfully, I am grateful to that man-- [She murmurs to herself, trying to get a grip on her reeling thoughts.] --he taught me just how much faith mankind deserves...!

I can't make you do anything, DeWitt! You will make the choice to strike me down, all on your own! [She grips the rail tighter, trying to keep her body from shaking. Elizabeth Comstock was never afraid, Elizabeth Comstock's will never wavered...] And I will take it for what it is: history repeating itself.

[It's just like the movie reel in the ruined asylum. The way she says it even...it's uncanny. And awful. It helps harden Booker's face a little. As if he's preparing for something. The inevitable, most likely.]

You seen it happen?

[Booker doesn't hear how dangerous he sounds. Like he's goading her. It's not the wisest of tones to take, accidental or no.]

Or does this place shut you out just like it does her?

[One way or another: the odds are definitely in her favor. Booker, ideally, doesn't want to hurt her. Keeping himself from dying (what he suspects might be a second time) is the priority here. But killing this Elizabeth to save himself... it seems unthinkable. It's the last thing he wants to do, either out of some sense of morals (because hurting any Elizabeth is effectively hurting his) or because every time he would look at her he'd see this one. In pain. Or worse. The guilt would be the straw that broke his back.

Or so he thinks.]

I don't have to see it to know! [Elizabeth snaps, the fireball emitting a flare up in response to her anger. She can't see much of anything, it's true. But there are a few cracks she can see through, and they're destroying her sanity slowly. Robert waltzing with her in the living room, Rosalind braiding her hair, Gai nipping playfully at her ear, Booker going with her to walk her puppy--]

[Elizabeth sways on her feet, feels a nosebleed start again. Damn it all, she'd thought it was all out of her system.]

I... should never have put my faith in you. You abandoned me to save yourself, and you'll kill me to do the same. Human nature will never change, it just has to be erased!

[Elizabeth raises her fist and hurls the trap down--whether or not her aim is good enough, well... her vision is shaky from her brain trying to reconcile her existence.]

I'm sorry!

[From here, the nosebleed is too small to see and Booker only sees her shift and sway before speaking again, spitting all the vitriol and hate that he helped nurture by letting her down.

Despite never having known this Elizabeth, he feels the guilt for abandoning her like he does everything else. It's just another weight now.]

I'm sorry I didn't save you! I don't know why I didn't!

[He's getting desperate, trying to find the off switch for this woman because she is going to kill him...the trap falls close to Booker - not enough to do more than send sparks his way but it's a sobering reminder that here he doesn't have the comfort of a temporary shield, thanks to the Luteces, to keep him from being burned. That his panicked, hoarse shouts when fire touched him in Columbia, only to never actually burn him, would be that much more real is enough for him to reassess how careful he has to be.]

[Please you have to believe me. he thinks, but doesn't say. He doesn't think she's all that partial to mercy when it comes to him.]

You're lying! You know exactly why you didn't help me! [Elizabeth wipes under her nose, smearing the blood across her cheek and away from her mouth.]

You... you were saving yourself after I gave myself up to save you! You abandoned me after I gave up everything for you...! [At this point, Elizabeth is really grasping at straws while trying to keep her will unswayed. But hearing Booker's voice again, just his voice begging with her, is almost too much. She grabs the ends of her hair and pulls, trying to focus again.]

That's what I was told, that you left me there. And who am I supposed to believe?

[Booker can't stop himself from saying it, it just comes out so quickly and without restraint that he doesn't have time to think about what he's saying.]

Yourself! Anyone! Anyone but him!

[Comstock and he were the same - Booker had a hard enough time accepting that fact, there wasn't any retreating from the idea that they were literally the same person. That he was both.

But God - he had faith in Elizabeth. Any Elizabeth, that she wouldn't let him control her. Maybe it was just his version - maybe he didn't understand the concept of alternate realities or whatever the fuck was going on here.

What he sees is a woman who is trying so hard to stick to guns she didn't want in the first place. And it makes him sick because he remembers so clearly Elizabeth asking - telling him to kill her if Songbird ever got his hands on her and he can't help thinking that she was right.

Seeing her strapped in that chair, being ripped apart by the scientist while Comstock watched from above - death would have been better. He's happy to have rescued her - his version - but if this is the end result? If this is the person Comstock would turn her into under his wing...

Booker is so happy, in that instant, that he - they - stopped that bastard.]

Elizabeth...

[He doesn't know what to say anymore.]

I have to have faith in him. There's nothing left of myself that I recognize.

[She'd thought this would be simple. Killing Booker. He had left her to be tortured when he'd known how much he'd meant to her. Her only friend, her first hope. Suddenly she was so tired, the religious fire that always was lit in her center was flickering out. Slowly, she slides down until she's sitting on the floor if the hovering machine, and watches Booker through the bars of the railing.]

He... He never tortured me himself, or raised a hand to me. I knew, always, that he was responsible for it. But that never stopped me from feeling... relief and comfort when he rested a hand on mine, or called me his child. It's disgusting, but it's the truth. It was easier to be glad he wasn't hurting me, than it was to remember he was the reason I was in pain, starving, and freezing. It's terrifying, how he knew exactly what to do to manipulate me. I should be ashamed of how easily I was exploited.

... Songbird killed you. He must have, and that's all I wanted them to tell me. But they knew that even if I knew you weren't ever coming for me, I would fight harder than if they told me my only friend abandoned me. Was I right?

I ... I don't know.

[He has to admit it. He didn't know a damn thing about what happened to that version of himself. Those versions of himself, rather. Because the only thing he knew was what he was told by the older Elizabeth. The one who used up the last of her power to send him forward and back to the right place to save Elizabeth.]

She told me...she told me "Songbird stops you every time." Maybe she was telling the truth but...

I don't know.

[He wants to ask: Are you going to kill me now?

It's weighing on his mind.]

Booker... [Elizabeth presses her forehead against one of the bars and looks down at him, an exhausted and exasperated hint of a smile on her lips.] You're not supposed to say 'I don't know' when you know which answer will save your life.

[The smile pulls back into a line, because even if Booker is being so very Booker (and missing opportunities to just lie to her), she's curious.]

Who's 'she'?

[[It's a brief moment of peace between them both and Elizabeth's smile - however faint - gives him some small modicum of hope that maybe he won't be incinerated. Maybe. At the question though, Booker's mind snaps back into the now and the tension seeps back into him as if he were a sponge.]

You. A ... you from a future timeline I guess?

[Booker really never was good with this whole multiple universes thing.]

I was trying to catch up to Songbird after he - [Come on Dewitt, say it.] - took you.

And then I guess she pulled me through a tear into her world because suddenly there was snow everywhere and ... she gave me something that helped us get out of Columbia. Destroyed the siphon too.

[It's heavily edited but he doesn't want to tell her the horrible things he saw. She didn't need to know them - or so he thought. New York on fire and those godawful Boys of Silence to name a few. ]

[Elizabeth doesn't have to hear Booker say what he's thinking. She knows that the only way he would equate her to someone from a future timeline, where Songbird always stops Booker, would be if she was acting the way that future self had. Destroying something for the sake of the twisted morals Comstock had imposed on her. She wouldn't change, when she was old she would not depart from the ways he had taught her.]

[But in the end, apparently, she would reject and unravel it all. Destroying the siphon would end it all, yes. It would mean certain escape. Blindly, Elizabeth reaches for the control on the hovering contraption, and lowers it slowly to land on the ground.]

So in the end... what I suffered through means something happens that's bigger than just the pain. Because I wasn't saved... she could be.

[She looks up at the house, eyes flicking over the flames as though looking for something in them. Finally she swallows and holds her hand out for Booker to help her down.]

Hold me up, Booker. I need you to help me.

[The blood smeared under her nose is easy to see now and Booker bites back a comment on it. Seemed to be a common symptom between them. It's easier to see how thin she is, how she looks more like a machine than a person now.

Again - Booker bites back any remarks he might have to make and instead takes her hand in his to heft her up.]

Come on, I gotcha.

[It's just idle chatter, there's no meat to his words and no thought to them either as he helps Elizabeth stand.]

[Elizabeth stands easily enough, it almost seems like she doesn't actually need him to help her stand up. She doesn't let go, though, as she approaches the burning house.]

Don't let me fall, or collapse, or faint. And no matter how much I scream, don't try to discourage me. [Her eyes flick over the fire again.] I have to repay my debt to her.

[Elizabeth digs her fingers into the air and a tear appears. She pulls and falters, letting out a shocked and pained gasp and pausing for a moment. But then she's pulling again, and working harder at the tear than Booker has probably ever seen her work. One thing is abundantly clear, though: it's hurting her, and it's enough to make her vocalize her pain.]

What? Elizabeth what are you --

[He knows what she told him to do. Keep quiet and make sure she stays upright. But, then again, he never was very good at doing what he was told.]

Stop -- stop it!

[Booker didn't know what to try and do to appease her to just... leave it alone. It didn't occur to him to just tell her it'd basically all grow back.]

[She knows the leash is still in place--it hurt to pull the flying machine through a tear, but it's absolute agony trying to pull an entire house through one. She can do it, she knows she can, but that 'training mechanism' is doing its job, unfortunately.]

Good try, Booker-- [Elizabeth holds the tear open a mere four inches, still struggling to open it, nearly shaking with the effort.] --What are you going to do to stop me, exactly?

[She bares her teeth and digs in, opening the tear to nearly three feet. The house is in tact and calm beyond the opening, so Elizabeth keeps pushing, nearly screaming with the effort now.]

[Not a damn thing. Booker has had this conversation before, and he volunteered to put the blood on his hands instead of Elizabeth.

Somehow she still ended up with plenty of red on her palms.

He doesn't seem to think she is quite understand what he's seeing. That she's just...needlessly putting herself through pain for...for what? Not much.]

You're hurting yourself, Elizabeth!

[He doesn't know how to stop her. How do you stop someone from literally tearing into another universe.]

You think I didn't realize that? [She spreads her arms out and holds the tear there for a moment, breathing, hands in fists trying to control the pain.]

It's the leash. Every time I tried to do this, every time I tried to escape, I couldn't make it past the pain. I gave up on trying because-- because what was the point if I didn't have anyone to travel with?! Why was I hurting myself to get somewhere that was just as awful as where I was?! Why was I trying to get back to someone... someone who had abandoned me...?!

[Elizabeth's voice cracks as she remembers all of the doubt, and heartbreak, and loss of hope that she experienced waiting for Booker. Enduring the procedures to wrap the leash around her neck, so to speak. She'd held out for almost a year, and then...]

I should have known that the people who hurt me would also lie to me to break me. I should have known, but I was so lost. I'm still lost. [Elizabeth redoubles her efforts, nearly screams at the push she makes.] But she's not! She doesn't have to become me, she doesn't have to lose everything!

[Booker might not be the most paternal person (an understatement) but he can't just keep listening to Elizabeth scream and hurt and try without acting. He's never been able to do that very well. Shrugging off the possibility that it might very well kill him or do worse, Booker grabs her shoulder (not getting in front of her because somehow standing between Elizabeth and a fluctuating tear doesn't sound like a smart idea) to try and shout some sense into her.]

She won't! Just... just let it burn! It's going to be back in the morning!

[A little late on the update? Oh yeah. But it's not really something he considered needing to tell her. Even if she isn't the same, she's still Elizabeth in a way. She's still his daughter.]

Elizabeth! Please stop!

[From an opening in the trees he can see the column of smoke, billowing and black, like so long ago. And as he rises slowly from his crouch and stands there, on the edge of then and now, something in his gut twists up with the desperation he had once felt and he almost runs towards it, runs until the air burns raw in his throat and lungs, because maybe this time he could make it.

But this isn’t Valachia. And as he breathes, forcing himself to stop and think for too long, he has the sense to remember that he’s fifteen years too late. When the fire died and the ashes cooled, scattering in the wind, there wouldn’t be anything of her to find.

He doesn’t expect to see Elizabeth when he closes the distance. Nor does he expect to see her watching the shelter burn, letting it burn, it seems, without a care in the way towns and villages had under his own orders. And while he might not understand, he admires the sight regardless. Because a part of him had always wanted to see the world go up in flames.]

[Elizabeth does recognize that she's not alone in her watching, and she turns away from watching the slow destruction with meditative interest to see who's watching her.]

[Isaac. The salacious hellspawn. Elizabeth had an extreme distaste for him, one that she had made known but he seemed to have never accepted. How cheery he could be while grating on her last nerve...]

Missing home? [She points to the fire and tilts her head.] You seemed to be spreading enough filth on your own.

[The mesmerizing effect of the fire fades when she speaks, his pale eyes shifting from the blazing ruins of the shelter to her. Taking in her expression and letting every word sink in, understanding immediately that this isn’t a clumsy attempt at humour.

It’s a far cry from Elizabeth as he has known her to be from the start: the spirited, easygoing young woman with more of an open mind than at least half of the enclosure, as far as he had been concerned. But the knee-jerk shock he ought to feel is dullened, the sting reduced to something warranting little more than a slow, considering tilt of his head. Because in this one remark is a reminder of the self-righteous hate and disgust that had surrounded him all his life. This is something he has been ready for for a long time, this moment when her pretty little smile would fall and she'd twist around and bite. Had his enemy spoken to her recently, or had this been months in coming? Perhaps a shift was to blame, warping her into someone else. It doesn’t matter which, he decides, his gaze cooling and darkening. Bitterness is all too easy to backslide into.]

You wound me. [He tips up his chin, flashing her a cockeyed grin.]

If you are attempting to do me harm, then you should at least know where it is I live… lest you make a fool of yourself. And we would not want that, now would we?

[If there's one thing that's painfully obvious, it's that the only thing this Elizabeth shares with the one Isaac knows is a basic resemblance. The Elizabeth Isaac is faced with now has ruthlessly cropped hair, dark shadows in her eye sockets, a stiff posture, and a severe method of dress.]

[And no tolerance whatsoever, but she'd had no choice.]

Do you harm? That would suggest that you are somehow deserving of my individual attention. No, judgement will come without my seeking you, in the form of a flood of fire at my back. Your time will come when God sees to it, I am but His Prophet and His Hand.

Edited (Too much time. 8[) 2014-04-16 06:14 (UTC)

Are you now? [He drawls flatly, his gaze flickering low for a brief moment before it finds hers again and he nods politely.] ‘twould seem even the Good Lord is in need of a hand with which to wipe Himself. He must find you rather useful.

Edited (wording) 2014-04-16 12:35 (UTC)

[Obviously, she's unsurprised by Isaac's crude and irreverent way of expressing himself. Elizabeth makes a disgusted face and turns her back to go.]

I can see why she liked you. Every word out of your mouth was new and fascinating, however I am not so swayed. Go back to your hole and wait.

[There’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes at ‘she’ though his smile remains comfortably in place, with practiced ease, until a look of mock-astonishment steals across his features.] And miss the spectacle?

[He wouldn't dream of it. The thought prompts a laugh, soft, and cold and black.] Oh, no; I am quite through with waiting, I assure you. He and I have so very much to discuss… if He is prepared at long last to take responsibility for his failings and face judgment of His own.

You think God has time for any of us? [Elizabeth looks back over her shoulder, hard, at Isaac.] He barely speaks to me because I have wandered, what deludes you into thinking he will even grace you with His own judgement?

No... He has left me here to test my will, and he knows what I must do to continue forward. I must slaughter and burn everything if I am to return. [She smiles softly.] He will not find my will lacking, but He will also not save me from what suffering I will endure after. And I am counting on the fact that not even God speaks to those he has wronged.

[When she is gone, when the one Booker freed returns, her life will be utterly destroyed.]

[He cants his head at the question, silent - though barely, while his nerves prickle keenly with demonic energy.] …Lo walks Elizabeth, [He teases mirthlessly, teetering on the knife-edge between deathly calm and savagery] burdened with purpose and answering sin with blood. Is that not itself a sin? [Huffing a breathy, fainter laugh through his teeth, he pushes on.]

Think you that you can redeem yourself, atone for your wrongdoings by dirtying your hands for Him? [A beat - and then his lids lower and he leans in, his voice a conspiratorial purr.] You have doomed yourself already -- and when you breathe your last, He shall cast you Himself into the flames of His own creation with the rest... and He will look down, and He will laugh.

[An amused shake of his head.] How very kind of Him to be keeping a place warm for us. I never did mind the heat.

My wrongdoings? No... I atoned for those long ago, when I stopped resisting taking the place that was set aside for me. [Perhaps she's said just enough for Isaac to begin to realize what has happened. The variable that split her away from the Elizabeth Isaac knows and speaks so freely to.]

But she fought, and fought, and fought what could have been hers if she had just accepted what we are-- worse than God. Omnipotent and destructive and emotional and unfocused. She never realized that she was deluding herself, and fought to be wiped away like dust. We are the children science created and God wouldn't touch.

He wouldn't laugh. He will breathe a sigh of relief when we are gone, when neither Heaven nor Hell has to house us. I was doomed the day the False Shepherd sold me to the Prophet, but I am not afraid of the burden--the damnation-- that choice brought on me.

I have no hope, and no fear of judgment falling on me. I am not human, and I am not as absent as God is. Destroying the pestilent life here and on Earth, so there might be something better after the smoke has cleared, is my only calling. There is nothing else for me, no matter how much the others may try to run from it.

[More than anything else, it’s that seemingly fatalistic tone of her final remark that strikes a chord deep inside him. There is nothing else for me. But he hasn’t any sympathy in him to give - it’d be misplaced, here and now, with Elizabeth bent and warped like a hot piece of metal into some strange, new, irrevocable shape. One that has made it clear a man of his sort isn’t allowed to exist in the world she intends to remake. It’s an ambitious project; and he smiles as he remembers a time when he had joined the war waged against the human race by the very antithesis of God, a creature barely any more involved in his life than God himself had been in his times of need. Neither God nor Dracula were infallible, though the latter he had never wanted to believe while under his servitude, pardoning his cool detachment and brushing aside his errors in judgment until his betrayal by the Dark Lord had forced him to reconsider long after it was too late.]

'twas He who spawned Satan himself… and ‘twas He who made man, sin and all. [His eyes glint with bitter amusement.] Try as you might to raze the enclosure of the blight of His most disastrous creation, you will fall and your work shall be for naught. Death shan’t keep the dead for long, human.

[Jade had been patrolling through the forest and testing out his 3D Maneuver Gear in this new environment, when he saw the column of smoke.

He knew that it likely wasn't a Titan attack, but it was worthy of investigation anyway. The wires are deployed, pulling him through the trees, and then he comes to a landing near the flames, already checking the area for anyone victims - and any aggressors.]

[And when Jade lands, Elizabeth barely bats an eyelash. Her hands are held loosely behind her back as she watches the little shelter go up, and eventually she turns to look at Jade.]

[She's responsible, yes, she isn't even denying it or moving away out of fear.]

What do you see?

[Jade turns to face the familiar-looking woman - but in his current state, his Luceti memories are vague. From the way she stands and talks, it seems almost certain that she's behind it.]

It very well seems to be a fire. However, I can't quite see an explanation.

There is only so much one can see when one refuses to think past what is physically present. It is, of course, a fire. It does have a cause, one that you might not be able to see immediately.

But is that so important when one considers what happens after the fire has run its course?

I don't care much to entertain hypothetical effects. [He regards her suspiciously.] But I do care to ensure that this little bonfire isn't repeated where people are living.

Then you're going to be disappointed, Jade. [Elizabeth looks unsurprised that Jade is still taking things so literally, but she'll humor him.] After a fire has run its course, after judgement has run its course to its final outcome, there is possibility for a revision. A second chance at a life better lived.

God drowned the earth in flood, and so I will drown this world in a sea of fire. And everything will start again, like a new Eden.

[She knows his name. Jade's eyes narrow, his hands hover over the hilts of his blades, kept in box-like sheathes at his sides.]

You don't know what you're talking about. Burn this place down, and you won't get anything other than a village's worth of very livid people cropping back up in a week.

Of course, that in itself will stay hypothetical. You won't return to the village as long as you're thinking that.

[Exactly Jade. Exactly.]

[By then, no doubt, she will have caused enough damage to be removed. Punishment, and livid masses, would be left to another. Someone who hadn't endured the lessons that were forced on her, who hadn't fallen exactly into the line that was drawn for her to walk along.]

Are you going to prevent me from returning? [Elizabeth lets the corner of her mouth lift a fraction.] There are constants and variables in this world, the same as everywhere else. Are you so certain you want to find out if your surviving me is a constant, or if it is a variable?

[So he's already facing an enemy. It's likely that she isn't a Titan, but by now Jade knows to expect the unexpected.

He keeps a focused glance on her while his hands are ready to draw his blades. Could he close the difference fast enough, without knowing exactly what she has at her disposal...?]

I'd rather find out for myself rather than waste my time pondering something so hypothetical. If you intend to harm the populace, I am here to stop you. It's as simple as that.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

TREIZE + [Action]

action because he deserves it

action SURE DO, BOOKER. 8[ (At least this one thinks you do...)

action /SLAMS IN HERE IM SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER

action IT'S COOL, SALSA WAS PROBABLY INVOLVED?

All the salsa.

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ohshi ithought i replied to this D:

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tw: definite religious irreverence because Isaac

tw: definite religious irreverence because Isaac

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if you need me to edit anything, plz lemme know - religion really gets Ike talking

Psh, you're fine! :3

Ok! Never hurts to check. :P

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