Second New Story | Video

[hellofist]

I need the CTS. Need a Warden... to let me in. Whoever is closest.

[She knows she could ask anyone specifically, but she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to ask for anything at all, but for some reason doing it like this seems less... intrusive? She isn't sure.]

And if someone can, every morning? Would be... helpful.

That's all.

[And she clicks off, abrupt, no thank yous. Whoever shows up she'll thank, but what's the point of saying it into the ether?]

[Private to Zane]

Cassel said to... talk to you. So... hi.

[Who is the best at meeting new people? This gal right here.]


(ooc: come at me with your alternate timelines, anyone who wants to let her in can do so!!)

Comments

[godsays]

[ He glances up to her, and continues. ]

I want you to understand what it means when I say my father bred his own army. He had a limited Allomantic talent; he was a Tineye. He kept it secret. But he bred that, the inheritance of it, on as many women as he could. Usually... very young. [ Which never much mattered to him before. A skaa life is snuffed out sooner or later; why worry about when it happens? Now, he knows to care, and he hates to think about it. ]

A lot of them were skaa. Some were minor noblewomen. One of those was my mother. I've only met her once. She didn't know me.

[ But that's telling it out of order. ]

I assume he offered to get rid of the child, so she could try to avoid scandal. It didn't work. But I was brought up in secret, with other children of his. We were kept close, in a home bordering the skaa districts. There wasn't ever much to eat. The weakest died.

Allomancy is only revealed when a person - Snaps. It's said you have to look into the eyes of death. Most noble families have their children beaten, nearly to death, to induce a Snap. That happened to us, too. My older half-sister was beaten, and I watched her die from it. Then it was my turn.

There were only two alternatives. Either you were an Allomancer, and useful, or you weren't. The ones that weren't - I didn't entirely understand at the time. They went away. Now I know Straff wouldn't have let them live. I did know that failure was terrible.

I Snapped Mistborn. And my life changed. It wasn't just survival anymore - Straff couldn't afford to lose a Mistborn. It was training. Learning to use all the powers, to blend in, to be a noble or a skaa, to hunt and kill. I was his greatest secret weapon. But always his. Always secret. Never more than a weapon.

[hellofist]

[There are parts of that that are so similar it's a little sickening, and other parts that are different that are just as wrong. A few years ago she wouldn't have realized it, she would have counted it as just another form of a man training a child that had no choice but to conform, but she knows what these things are now.

Abuse, torture. She knows that it's not right and it hurts to know that other people have gone through what she has, but it's also... not soothing, not exactly. But it's something to know there's someone else that understands that kind of upbringing. She reaches out before she really considers what she's doing and touches his shoulder, gives it a very light squeeze.]

I'm sorry.

[godsays]

[ He knows he's been repeating himself during this story. But it isn't just about getting the facts out. It's about putting them all together. It's all just pieces, without everything else, and there are so many other ways his world could have gone.

The touch is fine with him - because it comes from understanding. He knows the difference between that and pity. His hand covers hers, briefly. Acknowledgment; acceptance. ]

The Inquisitors are the ones who come to kill illegal Allomancers. Once, one came to kill my half-brothers, and I had to confront one while they tried to escape.

[ He reaches to the hem of his shirt and pulls it up to his chest. There is a spike embedded there. The flat of it is at his breastbone, and the point of it protrudes slightly between his shoulderblades. Where it is, it should have penetrated his heart.

It did penetrate his heart. ]

It stabbed this straight through my half-brother and into me. And it left me there.

After that, I started hearing a voice. [ He smoothes the shirt down again. ] It would tell me to kill. Constantly. Underlings, people who didn't matter. Skaa. Soldiers. Nobles. It whispered, all the time. I knew I was insane. I functioned anyway, on willpower alone.

It was after I got here that I found out this, [ his fingers brushing the flat end through his shirt, ] allowed a god to have a route into my mind. There really was a voice. And there were things he wanted me to do.

So I wasn't. Pleasant. To be around.

When I first got here.

[hellofist]

[She almost - almost - reaches out to touch the spike. Instead she looks harder at him to try to see if there's lingering pain from it, because she's fairly certain spikes embedded in a person would not be the most pleasant thing.

Maybe that's another thing they they have in common. Maybe he doesn't feel pain either.

There's just so much, so much of them that lines up the same that it's a little overwhelming. She wants him to know that, but she can't think of a fast way to get it across, so she copies him instead. Modesty isn't something she has, so it's easy to lift her shirt up so he can see her chest. Between her breasts is a long, raised scar that's newer than all of the other scars scattered over her stomach and her sides.]

We match. This was from my brother. One of... Cain's failures.

[godsays]

[ It hurts. It hurts constantly, with the pain of a mortal wound, and Zane lives with it. It's made him stronger. (And a part of him will always want to be stronger.)

His eyes move to the scar, and he is stunned. To silence. We match. Even Cassel didn't have anything like this. He's never met anyone, in fact, who would know what it was like to get exactly that kind of injury, except for Marsh. And Marsh was - different.

He breathes in to speak, but lets it out again. There are tears in his eyes, suddenly, and he lets them fall, brushing one away. It's not grief. He just - aches, somehow, to know that there was a sister in heart here and he didn't realize.

He does reach up and touch the scar, just lightly. ]

We match. [ Repeated, confirmed. ]

[hellofist]

[She reaches up to touch cup his cheek, rubbing the tears away herself because it's her fault they're falling at all. She didn't expect that, didn't mean for it to happen, so there's bound to be some guilt that she upset him.]

It didn't hurt. If that helps. I don't feel pain.

[godsays]

Yes, you do. [ Otherwise she wouldn't be reaching out to him, now. She wouldn't care. ]

Physical pain isn't as important.

[ But - something else, too. ]

God made it so that I didn't feel the spike most of the time. So that I didn't think about it or notice it.

[hellofist]

If you... take it out, he'll stop talking?

[She doesn't really like being called out on the pain she may or may not be harboring, but in an instant Zane has secured a place in her mind as someone who is able to do that and not be thanked with broken fingers.

Cass is more interested on if he can have that spike removed without it killing him and why he hasn't already, if it causes him so much pain. Distress has made her inch closer to him and she moves her hand from his cheek to his chest, careful not to touch the spike directly. Instead, she lays her hand over his heart.]

[godsays]

[ The spike pierces his heart. It goes through it completely, and somehow his heart goes on beating around it. ]

That God is dead now, and he couldn't reach here anyway.

There's a new one. A better one. He's kind. [ And Zane doesn't want to lose that kindness. That connection to something larger than himself. ] I hear him when I go home.

[hellofist]

[She nods her understanding, acceptance, but that doesn't mean she necessarily likes that answer. How would she feel, having Mad Dog's knife embedded in her for the rest of her life? A constant reminder of family she'll never have, because he's dead now too. All of the failures, all of them gone because her father is a monster.

She takes a breath, lets it out in a sigh, and meets his eyes again.]

Everything you said, it's all... the same, for me. Almost exactly the same. Tortured, beaten, forced to kill. I was eight, the first time.

[godsays]

[ He doesn't know if it's the right decision. He might be just clinging to it, to the increase in powers that it gives him. The knowledge of temptation and his own self-control. The Emperor has offered to ease the pain associated with it. He hasn't agreed to that either.

His mouth twists at her words. Iris had said that Zane speaking to him had helped Cain. He regrets that now. ]

What did he want? What could he think was important enough to justify that?

[ There is never anything that can truly justify it, in Zane's mind. ]

[hellofist]

[Why is a question that Cass has never really though hard about. She knew the basics, other people have filled in the details. She can explain on a surface level, but the deeper things are ones that Cass really doesn't know how to explain.]

In our world, he's the... best assassin there is. Wanted a replace- [That's not quite right, so she changes midway though.] A successor. Someone to... take over. Take his place, when he died.

I wasn't the first. Tried lots of children, before me. I was just... first that was his, by birth. My mother is named Shiva. She's the best fighter, in our world. Most powerful. He made her that way, made sure... I'd be perfect.

[godsays]

[ His teeth are tight. ]

I won't talk to him again.

[ Graduated or not. There are scars that run too deeply. ]

[hellofist]

[She doesn't know if Zane would listen if she told him talking to Cain was fine, it wouldn't change anything for her if he did. With what they share, she can see why he would never want to. If the situation was different and it was Zane's father on the barge, she would likely kill him. So she doesn't tell him to change his mind, or even suggest it.

She just reaches up and puts her hand on the back of his neck, drawing him in so that she can hug him.]

He doesn't touch me, now. He can't.

[godsays]

[ The last time Zane saw Straff, he walked away. He didn't kill his father, even though Straff expected him to. He didn't take legitimacy, or a place as heir to the throne, like Straff thought would be the final way to bribe him. He just walked away. Vin had represented some of that freedom for him, but part of it was just - I'm done with this. I'm done with you. I'm done.

So he understands, in part, but by the same token - Straff could still hurt him, if he were here.

He isn't sure how to convey the mix of understanding and doubt, so he holds her close, instead. Not tight, and not if she pulls away enough to signal she doesn't want to touch anymore. But close. ]

[hellofist]

[That's one of the good things about Cass can do, though. She sees the understanding, she sees how he's torn and sees what he's offering without him trying to find a way to put it to words.

It's not even an hour yet but she feels like she's known him her entire life, so it's easy to rest her head on Zane's shoulder and just go on holding him. She doesn't really feel like she needs to fight anymore, and that's... well, it's unexpected. Talking has never been a thing to calm her or make her feel better.

Maybe it's just him. Maybe it's what they share that's tempering her rage and turning it to a desire to comfort him instead, she doesn't know. All she is sure of is that she doesn't think she'll be able to not have Zane in her life after this day.

She probably should have fixed her shirt, though.]

I love this thread I love you

[godsays]

[ He fixes it, after a moment, just brushes the shirt down. It's not out of modesty or anything, just some desire to straighten a little corner of the world. He smoothes it, and rubs her back, slowly. ]

Cassel was right.

I love you I love them too

[hellofist]

[She can't help that the mention of Cassel gets a very small smile from her.]

He is, sometimes. Will be smug, over this.

[And he'll probably take all the credit for it too.]

[godsays]

He deserves it.

[ This time, anyway. ]