thecapitol | I sense it now, the water's getting deep

Entry tags:

I sense it now, the water's getting deep

Who| Terezi, OPEN
What| Terezi's back from the mini-arena and there's a lot on her mind.
Where| District 3 suites
When| After the mini-arena plot, before Thicker Than Blood [backdated a little]
Warnings/Notes| Mentions of drowning, but that's probably it.

For the first time, returning from an arena, Terezi isn't faced with the overwhelming sense that she needs to apologize for her actions. There's no hurt or betrayal. Well... maybe a little. She's still not entirely sure what was up with Susannah, but that doesn't sting so much, since she barely knows the girl.

Instead, Terezi's mind is preoccupied with other things. Other regrets. She heads back to her district suite and promptly folds herself neatly into one of the couches. The TV is on, but she doesn't seem to be paying attention to it. It's just noise, compared to the thoughts rolling around in her head.

She should have picked a different trap, she thinks. It had seemed so simple at the time to meet the deep water with haste rather than caution. She could have swam more carefully and avoid the things that grasped and clawed beneath her treading. The traps in the District 3 section might have been quicker. Electrocution was a pretty fast way to go, albeit rather painful. But she didn't think any of those deaths were going to be pain-free. That wasn't how the capitol played it's game. Time had been running out, either way. It was so quick and so easy to feign carelessness. To make her actions look like panic rather than suicide. She hadn't regretted anything in that arena--not until something had snatched her and dragged her under.

She shudders a little at the recollection, wraps her arms around herself and breathes deep--reminding herself that she still can. Drowning had been a horrible way to go. Once underwater, her struggles hadn't been feigned in the least. She fought her hardest to get back to the surface, to try something else. Fought until her lungs burned and panic set in at being so thoroughly blind. Fought until she finally tried to gasp for air that she couldn't reach. She'd been scared--that it wouldn't be entertaining or convincing enough, that they wouldn't bring her back. But it was, and they did. Or they were lying to begin with. Either way, she's here and she doesn't care to figure out which it was just yet.

All she really cares about is existing right now, breathing deep and trying not to remember the feeling of the water around her. It's going to be a while before she can stand to get wet again.

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Albert hadn't watched much. He doesn't like to, feeling dirty for being privy to the most emotionally raw moments a person can have, feeling sorrow for his inability to do anything just yet to stop it.

When Terezi emerged and curled herself onto the couch, Albert happened to be in the suite's kitchen. He watches silently as Terezi slides her arms around herself, barely breathing in his being unsure of how to handle the situation. Were it him, he'd profess wanting to be left alone, but it may not be the truth.

Ultimately, he can't ignore a person in pain, even one who grates on his nerves as much as the young Troll does. He shuffles his way to the back of the couch, making no more secret of his presence so he doesn't startle her. Softly, Albert rests a large but gentle hand on the back of the sofa near her head. He'd rather rest it on her head in a comforting paternal gesture but after one very awkward conversation he doesn't feel they're close enough for that to be taken well. As it is he's ready to be dismissed outright but he can't not try. "Is there anything I can get you, Terezi?"

Honestly, Terezi wasn't expecting to be approached. She doesn't seem to pay any attention to Albert as he draws near. It's only when he's at the back of the couch that her shoulders tense visibly, making it seem like she's curling inward. It could be possible that she was watching him the hole time...not that it would be easy to tell what a blind girl is paying attention to.

Her answer isn't immediate, but at least she doesn't dismiss him, either. She frowns a little, her head turning just enough that she can catch his scent to know where he is. Her body language reads as wary and uncertain, like she doesn't know why he's trying to talk to her.

"...Is there hot chocolate out there?" she asks finally, conceding to the offer in a quiet voice. After a moment of thought, she adds: "The kind with the little marshmallows in it?"

He smells of menthol and coffee and his voice is still low when he answers. "Yes, I think so. I'll make some."

With soft footfalls - he's in socks and so his steps are muffled - Albert retreats back into the open kitchen to boil some milk for hot chocolate. The directions on the packet say water but this will make it richer and perhaps more calming.

"It will just take a few minutes. Is there anything else you need in the mean time?" Food? A blanket? Someone to talk to? He's surprisingly open right now, different from the stubborn obstinance he'd displayed over the network.

"Your ulterior motive would be nice," she responds, still frowning. She hasn't moved from the spot where she's sitting except to unfold her legs from their spot against her chest.

"I thought you didn't like talking to me."

"Nothing ulterior. I may have disagreed with what you were saying, but that doesn't mean you deserve to be ignored." Not when she so obviously needs some kindness. He's not sure what happened exactly, but he's here and he's willing to listen or just be a calming presence. He's been told he's good at that.

He shrugs and rummages for cookies or something equally sweet. "We just got off on the wrong foot."

"Probably. You could have been more open minded about it, for one." She smiles just a little, but it looks mostly forced, like she's trying too hard to make a joke out of it. The smile doesn't last long before she's back to frowning at the carpet under their feet.

If he's really doing this out of kindness, then she does appreciate that. She doesn't understand why... but she appreciates it. She thinks that he probably expects a thank you or something, but gratitude doesn't come easy for her. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"I wasn't fucking around with you as much as you seem to think I was. Just so you know."

"I'm sure." It's a small dismissal, much more patient than he'd been in the initial conversation about the origins of the universe, but his tone is acquiescent. He's obviously not looking to start the argument over again. Nor is he looking for gratitude. He just wants to help her feel a bit better after what was likely a terrible experience. Death always is.

He manages to find some packaged cookies similar to milanos and puts some on a small plate as the milk comes to a boil. When the kettle whistles, he pours two mugs and adds the powdered chocolate, stirring as the little marshmallows expand slightly as they soak up the liquid. "I think we tributes haven't just been taken from different worlds and times, I think there may be alternate universes involved, one of which it is entirely possible you created."

He brings a tray laden with the mugs and cookies over and slides it towards her on the coffee table before taking his own seat in the lounger next to the couch. He doesn't want to crowd her. He cocks an eyebrow, smiling a little. "Is that open minded enough for you?"

"It's a start." Terezi reaches for the cookies to try one, pulling back with a sample of the treats and her mug of hot chocolate. She pops the cookie in her mouth before cupping the mug with both hands and letting the heat seep through the ceramic. Warm liquid in a mug is it's own special kind of comfort.

"I would be more surprised if you told me that you just figured that bit out. But not in the good way." She sips her hot chocolate carefully, then offers the smallest of smiles, a little less forced this time.

"More during that conversation and a few others during the prince's quest for information sharing. He tipped me off to it, actually, knowing other Earth languages and countries but coming from one I'd never heard of despite being from around that region of the world." He shrugs. It's interesting, and actually of somewhat grave importance given how they call came to be here. Just what sort of technology does the Capitol possess?

Even so, he doesn't let his discomfort at that thought show instead trying to exude calm and peace, keeping conversation... well perhaps not light, but off of potentially hazardous topics unless Terezi herself steers it that way. "How's the hot chocolate?"

"It's good." She sips it again, as if to confirm her opinion on the matter. It would be pretty hard to mess up hot chocolate, but she probably shouldn't put too much confidence in the Capitol's ability to produce something normal like microwavable cocoa.

"I'd never heard of Panem before, if that makes you feel better. Earth, yes. Texas, yes. Panem, no." Though she doesn't particularly want to think about Texas, either. It's only slightly preferable to thinking about the things that she's avoiding thinking about. "There's a lot of different timelines out there. Ones that start out the same and then go in a bunch of different ways. You get used to it, after a while. It's like... a tree. Same trunk, a million branches--unless you can manage to prune it to something more reasonable."

"Is there a reason to 'prune' it? Supposedly the universe is infinite so there is room for the 'tree' to grow." Though... if there are timelines worse than this one - and based on infinite possibilities there likely are - it could conceivably be a service to destroy it. Not that he likes to think about it; the idea of an entire reality winking out of existence is a frightening prospect, even when he's had a hand in it happening before.

He goes a quiet, staring pensively into his cocoa. It doesn't take God to make those sorts of changes.

"That depends. Do you like the prospect of everyone you love being dead and the world being destroyed or something cataclysmic like that?" Not that certain timelines didn't end up with that anyway, but at least that was the universally natural progression of things. She can take some small amount of comfort in that.

"Time itself has ways of pruning timelines that don't yield a productive outcome. It's kind of like a tree in that way, too. If a limb doesn't serve a purpose, it can shed it off from the rest of the tree--usually by murdering every sentient being in the timeline first. Once everyone is dead, the timeline can be wiped out of existence." A lovely thought, but she seems pretty nonchalant about the whole thing. About as concerned with the topic as one might be talking about pruning actual trees.

"Or you can do it manually by just choosing not to take those paths. That is the arguably better way, from personal experience."

"There's a difference between the natural order of a given timeline's ending, like a narrative drawing to a close, versus actively having a part in ending it. I'm not so sure the latter is any one person's place, that's all I meant." His words are gentle, but there's an obvious layer of disconcert underneath.

"As for choices effecting the course of a timeline, there is a theory that the choice not taken in, say, this timeline may have been taken in another. In fact that there are multiple different timelines where that is the case, one being where that is the only divergence. It still exists as a timeline, it's just not the one you're in for making a different choice." It's interesting in theory, it really is, but it's her blase speak of murdering entire universes that gives him a shiver. Does she do it out of bravado? Something to make her feel more at ease with their lot here as tributes? Or is Troll culture really so different that this is normal to her?

Is this actually making her feel any better?

There's some strange irony in someone trying to tell her how timelines work. If she was in a better mood, she would probably laugh outright. As it stands, she makes herself a little more comfortable on the couch, not seeming bothered by the topic at all.

"That timeline only exists if there was a possibility of you taking that choice, though. Otherwise, it's not actually a choice, despite the number of options that you may have! Say, you have two paths you can take. One has an obviously lethal result and the other doesn't. Ten times out of ten, you are going to choose the path that won't kill you. The timeline where you take that lethal path doesn't exist because there's no chance that you would take it, even if it was an option. That path is effectively pruned out of existence because the choices you've made up until now wouldn't permit you to choose something so suicidal. Do you get what I'm saying?"

"I do, it's sound logic." He sips at his cocoa. "Something has to be an actual choice instead of just a simulated one to make a new timeline, but what should be taken into account is previous experiences in the multitude of separate timelines. For instance, if someone's background varies drastically, giving them personal leanings in the opposite direction of what they would do in this timeline, they may choose to take the fatal route for those reasons."

Lord knows there were times with Black Ghost and he could have chosen to kill himself, times after that when it had crossed his mind. "My point is, unless one is truly omniscient, it's impossible to know everything affecting an individual's choosing. What isn't a choice to make an alternate timeline branching from this one could be a choice on a different branch of the metaphorical tree. Which, essentially, is what you said it's simply interesting to think about."

He tilts his head, regarding her with some curiosity. "May I ask you a personal question?"

Terezi nods a little as Albert talks. He seems to have the idea, probably better than she originally gave him credit for. But when he suddenly asks if she'll field a personal question, she frowns. She sets her hands in her lap, still clutching the mug.

"You can ask it, but I can't promise that I'll answer."

"Fair enough. I was just going to ask your age." It's out of curiosity more than anything. It occurs to him that he couldn't tell Signless or Fraysong's ages simply by looking which means that while he's certain Terezi - and Nepeta for that matter - are younger, he has no concept of how much younger. They could still be older than him and young for their species, which he suspects may well be the case given how well Terezi articulates herself. She's clever.

"Oh." That doesn't seem nearly as bad as she was imagining, considering the mildly surprised expression on her face.

"Seven," she answers immediately, followed by a quick addendum: "Sweeps. That's... about fifteen in human earth years, or maybe a little more. I don't know the exact conversion."

"Really?" Color him impressed. "You're very advanced compared to what a human child would be at equivalent age. I can't think of many fifteen year olds who would be able to wrap their heads around multiverse theory."

Not that he makes a habit of hanging out with fifteen year olds. He's 100. That would be weird.

"It helps when you're wandering through them," Terezi responds dryly. She stretches her legs out, moving her feet around in circles, just for the sake of fidgeting.

"I didn't like it at all, when we first started. Dealing with wobbly timeline bullshit made my head ache. I got used to it because I had to. Timelines aren't going to manage themselves."

"I disagree on that point. I think time as a concept is more resilient than we give it credit for." He sets his cocoa down on the table, folding his hands across his stomach. "I'm by no means trying to belittle your experience, but I've been around for a very long time and had a hand in at least one timeline's ending. I don't regret that, but I do think it's uncommon enough to need to get involved outside of your own sphere, in the grand scheme."

Panem being a disgustingly glaring exception, but again something they've been drawn into by an outside force, not something they've sought out to change without provocation.

"Well no, not usually," Terezi agrees, shrugging her shoulders a little. Even if he says he doesn't mean it as such, she still thinks it sounds a little condescending. But that's his problem, not hers.

"It helps when you don't have one guy living the same day three times over. Time travelers muck up the works like nothing else. Pretty sure he died thirteen times before we finally got a system worked out."

It's funny how it feels like those were the good days... Before everything got especially complicated.

"That would be terrible, reliving the same day again and again." He gives it thought for a moment, deciding to focus on the temporal implications instead of Terezi's brazen referring to the event almost like it's her job. "Well, depending on the day. Actually, I think there's a movie about that when I'm from."

Jet had discovered Bill Murray sometime in the early 2000s and systematically gone through his entire body of work over several months. Albert had been present for much of it and though he only vaguely recollects the films, Groundhog Day stuck with him marginally better than the rest.

"Humans make movies about the dumbest things," Terezi remarks with some dryness, but a bit of a smile. Troll movies aren't that much better, save for a few very specific genres. Such goes the way of movies after centuries of running out of good ideas.

"Living the same day over wouldn't be as terrible as you think. As long as you're not completely dumb about it. It just means getting a chance to fix things that you messed up on the first time."

"I suppose, though whatever you fixed would just get undone again when the day restarted." He shrugs, gratified to see Terezi cheering up just a bit. As obnoxious as she was on their first meeting, he'd rather she be that way than curled on the couch in emotional turmoil.

"Though you are right, humans do make some very stupid movies." He hasn't bothered going to the cinema in a very long time, preferring older films. The kind in black and white only played on the classic movie channels at god awful hours of the night. He could go on about how 'modern' movies are so violent and so focused on sex or are all sequels or adaptations of books where the book is beyond better, but he'd long since been (repeatedly) told to shut up on those opinions by multiple parties so he doesn't elaborate.

I sense it now, the water's getting deep

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