( elan ceres' thought process makes sense. at the same time, the system that the women of peil have set up also makes sense, though it is without a doubt more wasteful and inhumane. yet what elan ceres suggests feels like it's been said to the wrong recipient. )
They seem unlikely to implement enhanced person number five until absolutely necessary.
( it speaks for itself what that means, what they both are saying without saying. the tension in four's body lines his nerves and burns through his blood, never wholly going away though its fluxes vary. if nothing else, his expression stays as unreadable as ever, which depending on the person he is in front of might be more of a giveaway than if it wasn't.
his eyes drop to the floor between his feet and elan ceres'. should he say something else? what is expected of him? it frustrates him to be in a situation where he doesn't know the answer to that, can't adjust his own behavior and response in accordance.
it's fine. over and over. it's fine.
but he has the thought if elan ceres hadn't sent these books, if he hadn't shown up like this, if ...
it's fine.
though his breath rattles around uncomfortably in his chest, feels too thin, too tight, it doesn't show. he's so far in his time avoided breaking in front of the person he is supposed to be, though his inevitable successor has seen it, and belmeria winston, and at least two of the women of peil. another breath, deeper, sharper. four's complexion veers from pale to ghostly. under his gloves, the permet pulses in a way that he knows would show on his arms if not for his long sleeves as well.
what does elan ceres expect him to say otherwise? to do? to go to peil and suggest it? he said it himself earlier: they don't care. and, for the most part, four doesn't mind. he did not come to peil to be cared about; of that he's certain, and anyone with half a braincell could have shown up and known this wasn't what that kind of person would look for. sometimes he wonders why he did go to them, but it's as he thought before: it wouldn't matter would it? he's already here and his memories gone par for the course. )
I will uphold my part of the contract.
( it lacks elan's business-like tonality. in its place: quiet resignation balancing out an earnestness he couldn't explain if his life depended on it, the subconscious muscle memory that it felt important to do this once. like it mattered.
perhaps, even, to someone else.
though imperfect, peil doesn't boast innovation and technology for nothing. four cannot touch that part of the truth yet. for that he'll need the offered hand of a witch from mercury.
until then, he works as even ordinary people tend to: within the realm of what he knows.
no subject
They seem unlikely to implement enhanced person number five until absolutely necessary.
( it speaks for itself what that means, what they both are saying without saying. the tension in four's body lines his nerves and burns through his blood, never wholly going away though its fluxes vary. if nothing else, his expression stays as unreadable as ever, which depending on the person he is in front of might be more of a giveaway than if it wasn't.
his eyes drop to the floor between his feet and elan ceres'. should he say something else? what is expected of him? it frustrates him to be in a situation where he doesn't know the answer to that, can't adjust his own behavior and response in accordance.
it's fine. over and over. it's fine.
but he has the thought if elan ceres hadn't sent these books, if he hadn't shown up like this, if ...
it's fine.
though his breath rattles around uncomfortably in his chest, feels too thin, too tight, it doesn't show. he's so far in his time avoided breaking in front of the person he is supposed to be, though his inevitable successor has seen it, and belmeria winston, and at least two of the women of peil. another breath, deeper, sharper. four's complexion veers from pale to ghostly. under his gloves, the permet pulses in a way that he knows would show on his arms if not for his long sleeves as well.
what does elan ceres expect him to say otherwise? to do? to go to peil and suggest it? he said it himself earlier: they don't care. and, for the most part, four doesn't mind. he did not come to peil to be cared about; of that he's certain, and anyone with half a braincell could have shown up and known this wasn't what that kind of person would look for. sometimes he wonders why he did go to them, but it's as he thought before: it wouldn't matter would it? he's already here and his memories gone par for the course. )
I will uphold my part of the contract.
( it lacks elan's business-like tonality. in its place: quiet resignation balancing out an earnestness he couldn't explain if his life depended on it, the subconscious muscle memory that it felt important to do this once. like it mattered.
perhaps, even, to someone else.
though imperfect, peil doesn't boast innovation and technology for nothing. four cannot touch that part of the truth yet. for that he'll need the offered hand of a witch from mercury.
until then, he works as even ordinary people tend to: within the realm of what he knows.
not much.
just enough. )