dark_light | we are not truly immortal

After Glass's party is over with, Amariah and Kas go home.

Amariah fetches down their alethiometers.

"It's about time I took care of Alethia's afterlife, whatever it may be," she says quietly. "What can the alethiometer tell you about what I'll find?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

truthwright

Good plan, says Kas. We'll keep it in mind. How are you doing with the river?

From:

dark_light

It's an island; I can see where we started up ahead. Going to see how high up we can get, first - it looks like there's a ceiling but I have no idea if that's real or not. Funky topography.

From:

truthwright

Ain't it just.

Kas starts telling the harpies about his time as a stripper in Montreal.

From:

dark_light

The Bells fly up.

From:

arenaria

Shell Bell wakes up.

From:

sicaria

Sherlock kisses her forehead.

From:

arenaria

Shell Bell peers up at Sherlock with confused eyes, but does not cry or squirm or otherwise display anything resembling her earlier distress.

From:

sicaria

"Good morning," she murmurs, with some irony.

From:

arenaria

"Hi."

From:

sicaria

"How are you?"

From:

arenaria

"Better. But..." She pauses, thoughtful.

"I don't feel like - like I just got screamed at by a harpy - anymore - I guess that wears off - but I'm still thinking about the content."

From:

sicaria

Sherlock's gyrfalcon runs his beak through Shell Bell's hair.

"Explain?" he says softly.

From:

arenaria

The smew gazes up adoringly at the gyrfalcon and snuggles up to the nearest available Sherlock-skin.

"I'm - I think this is a template thing but I don't know how strongly - I'm so very wrapped up in what I want. All the time. It's just everyone else's luck that a lot of things I want have to do with them, and that most of the things I want that have to do with other people are nice things. And that was harpy-ammunition and I felt bad about being selfish and I was trying to do something else and I couldn't figure out how, and I'm not sure if that's good."

From:

sicaria

"Something else?" prompts Sherlock.

From:

arenaria

"Besides thinking about what I want all the time. I know you don't, at least not the way I do. I couldn't translate myself into that - mental language, though. About the closest I managed was feeling bad about everything I liked so I would want it less. I couldn't even make sense of wanting to do things for you without that being about me wanting it first."

From:

sicaria

"...you could say that I prioritize others before myself because it is what I want to do," Sherlock says thoughtfully.

From:

arenaria

"You could say that. But the - order of priority is different. My wanting to do nice things for other people fights it out on a level playing field with wanting ice cream; I mean, they're rarely incompatible and the first one's usually stronger but they're not different kinds of things on the immediate level. I don't think I would say that about you."

From:

sicaria

"Ah. No," says Sherlock. "That's true."

From:

arenaria

"And then wanting things felt awful and I couldn't figure out what else to do except cry and try to escape from anything that might make it stop, because if it stopped I would go back to unabashedly wanting things, and that would make me a horrible person."

From:

sicaria

"That was unpleasant," says Sherlock.

From:

arenaria

"Yes. In a way it helped when you held my daemon but it was also really confusing."

From:

sicaria

"How?"

From:

arenaria

"I couldn't tell myself you were lying. You weren't saying anything. But the harpy was still winning. So I had something in my head that I couldn't explain or dismiss - and it was a nice thing but under the circumstances that wasn't less confusing than a bad thing would've been."