(no subject)

[velocette]

[As usual, he's smoking. And it's not unusual that he's staring at the smoke like he's been hypnotized, but he's smiling more than he has in the years he's been on board.]

You know, I've been so fixated on these things for so many years. On cigarettes, I mean, Kools if I could get them--and it's funny that these are the greyest thing in my life. The single thing that lacks color now. I sort of expected the smoke to be blue...or pink.

I actually stopped seeing color when I was four. I think that was when I stopped believing in God, Santa, and the American Dream. I assumed for a long time that everyone went colorblind (literally, figuratively, whichever) when they got old enough to be cynical. But I came here and I met a real muse, and I've realized that I was mostly wrong.

I wonder what the rest of you lost when you stopped being kids? I don't expect many of you will answer, since most of you are understandably very sensitive about your pasts, but it's a real question. What did you lose when you grew up?

Comments

Re: Private

[bodilesswarrior]

Definitely.

The first leap - that was a loss. My father. [Her tone is more wistful than mournful; it's been a very long time.] Liver failure, when I was thirteen.

I'd already lost my mom, but I was so young when it happened. With him... [A slight shrug.] It made me realise that people can't always keep their promises, and you can't always make a difference.

Private

[velocette]

[Liver failure is fairly common where he's from, with most of the population being on some form of drug or other. But he's not jaded, even if he probably ought to be, and he makes a soft, sympathetic sound.]

When you're little, promises are more real than prayers. I remember they were as present and real to me as a kiss on the cheek.... Figuring out that they're just words with the best of intentions ruins a lot of people I think. It's the first step to realizing that people hardly ever mean what they say.

Did it change how you interacted with people after that?

Private

[bodilesswarrior]

For a while. It was hard to trust anything, after that. [It was the first time she tried to keep her heart in a box, and the first time she realised it wouldn't work.]

Eventually - I found a middle ground. My second dad, he's as solid as a rock. That was my foundation. And then...I found others. [Her smile is one of worn, aching fondness.]

They weren't perfect, no matter how much they wanted to be. But I always knew I could rely on them.

Trust isn't something you should just give away, but it can be earned.

Private

[velocette]

How do people earn your trust? Specifically?

[In his experience, trust is not as uniform as it seems. Some people trust you with their lives if you have the right bottle to offer.]

Private

[bodilesswarrior]

By deserving it. [A wry smile, because she knows that's not a real answer.] I tend to trust different people for different things, based on the behaviour I've seen. I trust Bruce to never stop fighting, and Dick to never give up on anyone, and Anya to be shrewdly pragmatic, and Bush to be good and kind and noble.

There are only a few people I trust with everything. [But then her brow furrows, because - ] No, I guess that isn't true. Even Dinah - I don't trust her with all of my plans, or - all of myself. [She wants to change that, but right now, as things are...that's the real truth.] And Dad...there's so much I haven't told him.

From home - Cassandra comes closest. She's - when I say she's the best of us, I mean it. [There's so much pride and love in her voice, so much regret and guilt.] But that can make it...difficult, to tell her everything. [Maybe that will change, too.]

The person I trust with every part of me, who I'd share anything with - that's Iris.