communion | stargazer-focused but ota

[semicharmed]

[ The psychic presence is tactile, first. Like a hand fumbling in the dark, knowing his fingers could brush up against someone at any moment and trying to avoid unwelcome contact.

Then: ]

Oh.

[ Or whatever passes for oh in Matt's mind. In this case, it's something like if a stray puff of air managed to light a candle, rather than extinguish it. The eureka moment is followed by a laugh, soda-fizz of endorphins that rises and feathers away. ]

Holy shit, you're right there, aren't you?

I mean--I think I can hear you.

Hello?

[ ooc: As noted here, Matt is reset! So if you knew him in AT, you are more than welcome to recognize him; he just won't remember you. PM or hit up artistformerlyknownas to ask questions or throw ideas around. :3 :3 :3 ]

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[semicharmed]

[ Matt's psychic presence goes very quiet, and likewise nearly immobile. He doesn't seem alarmed--rather, he's observing so intently, trying to soak in all the sensation available, that he forgets to project anything at all.

Then, like a candle in the dark, yellow flame just enough to illuminate itself: satisfaction.

It's not an I knew it kind of feeling. Whenever Matt thinks about Cyrus' and Yima's voices in his dream, he can't think of them as anything but utterly sincere. But still: the sun can scorch; the moon doesn't reflect enough light to make anything grow. He's been so uneasy with this choice. Seeing someone else react to it with such hostility is almost comforting. ]

I'm sorry, [ he says at last. ] That doesn't sound like much of a choice at all.

[ More of a protection racket. Aren't their circumstances bad enough without piling pressure on? ]

[appeale]

[ yeah, she understands that feeling. it would have been nice if anyone had said as much to her when she first arrived in Kenos; not just wariness or mistrust, but acknowledgement of the unfairness of it all, in a real sense, rather than because they simply wanted her to suck it up and choose already. she acknowledges the satisfied flicker, just a light touch, even as she responds with a non-committal: ] Mmh.

[ a flash of something dark and wry, bitter-tasting on his tongue. of course it's not much of a choice. but why would she ever expect anything else? ]

... I won't have a good answer for you about my choice, but I have been on both sides, if there's anything you want to know.

[semicharmed]

[ Matt seems ever so slightly easier now. Maybe it's a virtue of his, or maybe it's pure selfishness, but he always likes knowing the truth of another person's heart. No matter what that truth is. ]

I hadn't thought about people switching sides, [ he muses. What has he be thinking of instead? Some endless Sisyphean conflict, he supposes: toil and toil, hoeing the same row for whatever's left of eternity. ] Um. Yes. I want to know ...

If you-- [ A delicate pause, as his brain skips over a lacuna. ] --don't like either one, was there something about Zenith you disliked more? About Yima?

[appeale]

Something I disliked about Zenith? Ah...

[ her feelings about Meridian are rooted more in experience here, things she has been through in Kenos; although there are fears entirely her own she carries with her, about good people and how they will inevitably come to treat her—there are also specific memories she can point to, when illustrating why she despises the Meri so.

that isn't the case for Zenith. when she thinks of Zenith, Ruby's mind goes somewhere dark and familiar but not here. ]

In Meridian, people argue. I don't like that either, but Zenith... it feels like a cult. You should just listen to the Matrona and do as you're told. [ something disquieting underlies those words, the hum of a discordant note. ] And Yima—she promises to love you.

[ without having to explain herself, it's clear that this is infinitely more frightening to Ruby. the fear is smothering, that promise of "love" like a tightrope strung over a yawning chasm. she knows – and because she knows, with such unshakeable certainty, carved into her body by whip and by cane, so too does Matt know – exactly what will happen when she proves unworthy of that love. ]

... Besides, I don't think it makes sense. Why would a new world be any different from every world before it? It's always going to be the same.

[ the types of people that Zenith welcomes, in particular, are going to create a living hell. ]

[semicharmed]

[ Matt's psychic presence has taken on an attitude of sitting down and just listening. Someplace comfortable and open, without too much direct sunlight--under a tree in a meadow, maybe, in one of the national parks back in Cascadia. Fresh, invigorating air, and soft earth holding you up.

He's not thrilled to hear like a cult. The fact that he hasn't heard any Zenites describe things that way doesn't surprise him; if she's right, it's not like cults advertise themselves with the c word, or nobody would join. But despite the bright red flags of that description, that's not what really chills him in Ruby's answer.

She promises to love you.

As Ruby descends to a dark place within herself, Matt sinks to meet her. The terrible knowledge, the encyclopedia of pain--those things make him ache for her, but not purely from the outside. Matt knows about love too. If he were better able to distinguish the divide between him and another person over Communion, he wouldn't load his baggage onto her. But the link of a shared Aspect is too strong, and his heart too bruised for her--so there's an impression of sharp, sharp teeth at his throat, and a tiny voice going, oh, this is how I die. Walls of someone else's apartment bearing down on him like forever. ]

People are always going to be the same, I guess. Have the same tendencies. And beautiful things come out of that.

But ...

[appeale]

[ any gesture of compassion or sympathy would have made Ruby's mind slam shut on itself. she couldn't bear to have her wounds touched, not even in an attempt to soothe them. but – whether he means to or not – Matt sinks with her to the depths of that awful, dark place, and in some way, he is able to understand it, to recognise it.

so she does not recoil. she does try to staunch her own bleeding, but there is no use panicking over what has already been spilled. ]

... But, how can those same people believe the world they make will be perfect? Isn't the height of arrogance for Man to think he can recreate the Garden of Eden?

And—I don't think even Zenith itself agrees on what that looks like.

[ what she wants to say is far less charitable. that none of those people have any right to design paradise; that a paradise cannot even exist with people like that living in it. she thinks of Silco, and his gleeful cruelty; Sebastian, eyes flat and cold as the serpent itself.

she thinks, most strongly, of Amos. the zealot of Zenith, champion of its beliefs. when Rudbeckia had been new to Kenos, scared out of her mind, she had pleaded for mercy from the other Shard-Bearers. long before this conflict began in earnest, before there was any goal to reach. Amos had offered that mercy under his wing, Zenith's wing.

his own mind had shown, in terrible clarity, that if she did not take that offer – if she didn't fall in line – then, to Amos Burton, she didn't deserve to live. she was worth nothing at all.

Ruby says nothing, but she allows Matt to see these things. this is what Zenith is, to her. ]

[semicharmed]

[ It's strange. As Matt lets Ruby's impressions wash over him, he realizes--every one of these people stinging her mind like nettles. Every single one. They all recognized him, that other Matt Jamison from another world. He doesn't know what that means. Maybe it doesn't mean anything.

He'd like it if it didn't mean anything.

Her interpretation of Amos is hardest to take, but Matt doesn't doubt her. He feels a sinking sadness, the gut-plunge he always feels when someone he's let too close shows a more dangerous facet of themselves, and is quiet for a time in turn. ]

I don't think they know either. The ones I've talked to have been pretty upfront about that, at least.

[ A sigh, soft summer breeze turning regretfully towards the cold. ]

I don't think a perfect world is possible. Even the gods can't seem to get it right the first try. [ It seems cruel of Yima, as cruel as any of the false hope she decries, to let any Zenites think differently. ] I do think what comes next could be better than what came before, though. And that could be worth it.

[appeale]

That's a nice thought.

[ a naïve thought, sure – but more significantly, a useless thought. Matt will feel it, Ruby's mind automatically marking him as someone unsafe. not because he's a threat himself, but because he would be too blinded by optimism to even recognise a threat from someone else. he's a well-intentioned and good person.

she's been hurt enough by people like that to know better. ]

And... if it isn't? If all of that goes into a new world, and it's the same – or worse. You only get one try, don't you?

[ no guarantee, too, that a perfect world would not begin to rot in time. ]

... Well, anyway! I hope that answers your question? About—why I couldn't stay in Zenith.

[semicharmed]

[ Ah. It makes him sad, but Matt couldn't expect anything different. Why should she trust someone she's only just met? And when it comes down to it, who does he trust, really? He'll go to second locations with anyone, he's the last to sniff out a lie, he'll happily give and give and give of his heart and his body. But who would he trust, if he was in real trouble? He doesn't know.

So Matt accepts the shift in her mind the way he has everything else. Quietly, without condition. Full stop. ]

I don't know how many chances we get, [ he admits. ] There's a lot I don't know around here. Oceans, honestly.

[ He shakes his head, in real life and in the Communion space, and lets it go. ]

That was genuinely really helpful. Thank you.

If there's any way I can help you out in the future--I don't know when or if I'm gonna get my powers back, but just, if you think of anything--I hope you'll reach out.