[Outside of sleeping, Murphy doesn't actually spend that much time in the room. He has three jobs in the village to keep him busy, and the real job of trying to figure out just what the hell his mission here is meant to be to fill the rest of the time.
But he's here when Mavis comes in. Partly, reason to himself, to update his notes in the journal he keeps squirrelled away beneath a floorboard under his bed. Mostly, in truth, because Aristaeus looks like he should probably have died, and Murphy has too many borrowed memories from a thousand medically inclined Hosts he's never met to walk away from someone in that state.
Mavis doesn't look all that much better, but at least she's awake and vertical. Not that Murphy fully looks up from his scribbling, even as he says:]
Guess you two kissed and made up.
[It's dry, bitter-tinged. He's glad they're both alive, but he's still mad it was even a question.]
[ it comes easily now. murphy, at least, is sniping instead of throwing her things across the room, as felipe had. but then, murphy hadn't been there to see them both near death. had not already had to watch her die once.
she is not used to having people who care about that enough that it warrants consideration or reservation. it would not have changed what she did. but she is sorry that it was necessary. ]
[Apologies are something Murphy still struggles with - delivering them, and accepting them. In the circumstances he's experienced, they often feel like too little, too easy for what's been done. For this, he might already consider it too quick, thrown out like a shield to ward off his comments, but there was still the possibility she meant it. Then she follows it with an even emptier excuse, and that clarifies that for him.
His mouth tugs, but any amusement there is sour.]
You know, I can never decide what's funnier. The amount of people who'll say crap like that, or all the different things they'll say it about.
[ mavis stops unpacking. she sighs heavily. it's the sigh of someone who's had too much bullshit today. she's tired — from the fight, from the efforts to heal, from the talk with felipe. ]
Do you want to understand? [ she turns to look back at him, directing her full attention to murphy instead of her unpacking. ] Or do you want to throw things and hit me?
[ that was what felipe had done. but others had understood, not just aristaeus. she has hope for it, still, that someone will take the effort to grasp that she has her people's ways to respect, her own complicated feelings that needed to be worked through. but she is not going to bother with trying to give murphy any of that vulnerability if he will only spit on it, anyway. ]
[That stops him short, his eyes finally drawn up from the journal to her, sharp. People don't say stuff like that without it having been exampled to them, and the urge to ask who is strong. But she isn't some kid that needs his protection, and he wouldn't have right to anyway. She was right. He might not be throwing things, trying to hit her, but that's because he'd figured out a long time ago that his words were his best weapons. Honed sharp, capable of far more damage than his fists had ever managed.
He shuts the journal, sets it to one side, and turns to her fully.]
Tell me.
[As much or as little as she wants to, about any of it.]
The Kuruko have settled matters like this for as long we have used her name. [ kuruko's name, for who was she but the first of them? ] I am the only one of us left. If I abandon our traditions, they are as dead as my clan.
[ she kicks her bag under the bed. that wound stings worse still than the one in her side. her eyes burn. she wishes that felipe had understood that, had listened, had cared. but instead he'd just wanted to be angry at her. ]
They are not stupid. They are not pointless. [ she is quieter when she says this. ] Someone has to remember.
[Murphy hasn't met a tradition he wouldn't prefer ground to dust under his heel. Not because they're stupid or pointless, but because they're usually ignorant, or cruel, or maybe even completely necessary - at a time that has long since past.
But he understands when something's important to a person. He understands holding onto the last thing you might have left, because all the rest was gone.]
If you'd died, who would've remembered then?
[Low, matching her tone. He isn't trying to fight her anymore. But it's a flaw in that thinking, a part she might not have to decide this time, but some other down the road. Which was more important: following the traditions, or remembering them?]
[ she drops her gaze to the floor. properly chastened, and a little ashamed to admit that she had already considered that, and it was part of why — ] I yielded.
[ she turns back to aristaeus' bed, considers his prone form. searches for something to keep her hands occupied so she isn't left with the awkwardness of this conversation.
there's nothing. this isn't her space, and she is out of things to organize. ]
[ there is a strange doubling in her response. a yes but no. her impulse is to shrink from the expression of weakness, but — she can remember seeing it. parents holding their children. friends holding each other while drinking, laughing around a fire.
the kuruko do hugs.
it is mavis who never did.
this feels worse, somehow. she looks back at him, then slowly nods her head. she has the sense that if she said anything, she would regret it. but she shuffles her feet to turn more fully towards him, opening herself up to it. ]
[She doesn't need to give more answer than that. He draws her in, wraps his arms around her shoulders, careful in case she's still hurting. He wouldn't consider himself any kind of expert in this. He's a creature of sharp edges and points, developed over years of never having any comfort himself. But he's had others seek it from him, in the Nest. He's learnt that sometimes being there, holding someone, that's all you can do. And who really needs practice in that?]
[ she buries her chin against his shoulder. clings to the back of his shirt with a surprising grip, but stays otherwise steady. it does help. someone else, warm and firm against her. something solid to help her get her footing. ]
I am sorry. [ she says it again. he wouldn't have been the first to disbelieve her, so she feels like it is worth repeating. ] I didn't expect to scare so many.
[ she did not realize she was something to lose to anyone but herself. ]
Takes a while to realise people give a crap, right?
[Half a smile in it, but it's softer than his usual. The sentiment reminds him of Ilde, the maelstrom of her grief and the truth she'd flung at him after so many had already tried to quiet her: that it hadn't been them caring about her or what she was feeling. Really, they'd just wanted her to stop.
His arms tighten a little around Mavis, cheek turning into her hair.]
I shouldn't have-- [He stops. Reshuffles his words.] There's people, where I'm from, that do that kind of thing. Fighting like that. [A beat.] Let's just say I didn't have a great experience with them.
[ that's part of being a member of a warrior clan, accepting that other clans will have a kind of hatred for the people you've killed or drawn into debt slavery. she didn't always get it when she walked among the kuruko, but she had learned a little about it since she had lived at their edges, toeing the borders to keep the terms of her exile.
it's forgiveness, of a kind. not that he'd really asked for it, in explaining himself, but freely given. they can understand one another a little better for this.
she draws a deeper breath and pulls out of the hug. she considers him, then admits, ] This room is better. Quieter.
[ a new, less fraught subject.
both his mind and aristaeus' are a bit of a reprieve for her. and she knows that while murphy feels similarly to felipe about wanting to keep her out, murphy can hold that boundary on his own without retaliating against her for what she can't help. ]
[ she looks to aristaeus's prone form, considers this. the thing is that sex isn't kept being closed doors amongst the kuruko because there are no closed doors. there are tents, yes, temporary shelters with some privacy for sleeping, but the kuruko are open about this business. plenty of challenges ended in sex, as did other celebrations. mavis had seen plenty of it before she had been exiled. ]
Yes, probably.
[ it's honest, at least. so honest that it completely cuts through the joking delivery, as if she had never noticed it.
but it's a little hesitant, too.
because she has only just now started to consider how all of that context might apply to herself, and how it might mean other people seeing her get subdued and overpowered, as she had been at the castle, and in the void. it pricks at her pride. ]
I'd be having a pretty crap time in this town if it did.
[Public sex seemed to be quite a few people's preferred kink, and then there were the festivals and everything else in between. Besides, there'd never been that much privacy on the Ark, and the Dropship camp had had even less. He shrugs.]
Just give me a head's up and I'll find somewhere else to be.
[ it sounds a little contradictory, to her — it doesn't bother him, but he will clear out when it's going on. that warrants clarification, right? ]
You don't have to.
[ this is clumsily extended. she doesn't want him to feel like he has to find somewhere else to be just because they're busy. she knows what it's like to be made unwelcome. that's not what this is. ]
[ she narrows her gaze a little, trying to figure out how 'needing time together' was something that couldn't be done in the company of others. ultimately, though, she takes the offering for what it is. respect, as he says. ]
Thank you. [ even if this is put very awkwardly, like she's not entirely sure what she's thanking him for. ] I will make sure we don't wake you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
best surprise ty
But he's here when Mavis comes in. Partly, reason to himself, to update his notes in the journal he keeps squirrelled away beneath a floorboard under his bed. Mostly, in truth, because Aristaeus looks like he should probably have died, and Murphy has too many borrowed memories from a thousand medically inclined Hosts he's never met to walk away from someone in that state.
Mavis doesn't look all that much better, but at least she's awake and vertical. Not that Murphy fully looks up from his scribbling, even as he says:]
Guess you two kissed and made up.
[It's dry, bitter-tinged. He's glad they're both alive, but he's still mad it was even a question.]
no subject
[ it comes easily now. murphy, at least, is sniping instead of throwing her things across the room, as felipe had. but then, murphy hadn't been there to see them both near death. had not already had to watch her die once.
she is not used to having people who care about that enough that it warrants consideration or reservation. it would not have changed what she did. but she is sorry that it was necessary. ]
It had to be done.
[ both of those things can be true. ]
no subject
His mouth tugs, but any amusement there is sour.]
You know, I can never decide what's funnier. The amount of people who'll say crap like that, or all the different things they'll say it about.
(cw: gendered violence mention)
Do you want to understand? [ she turns to look back at him, directing her full attention to murphy instead of her unpacking. ] Or do you want to throw things and hit me?
[ that was what felipe had done. but others had understood, not just aristaeus. she has hope for it, still, that someone will take the effort to grasp that she has her people's ways to respect, her own complicated feelings that needed to be worked through. but she is not going to bother with trying to give murphy any of that vulnerability if he will only spit on it, anyway. ]
no subject
He shuts the journal, sets it to one side, and turns to her fully.]
Tell me.
[As much or as little as she wants to, about any of it.]
no subject
[ she kicks her bag under the bed. that wound stings worse still than the one in her side. her eyes burn. she wishes that felipe had understood that, had listened, had cared. but instead he'd just wanted to be angry at her. ]
They are not stupid. They are not pointless. [ she is quieter when she says this. ] Someone has to remember.
no subject
But he understands when something's important to a person. He understands holding onto the last thing you might have left, because all the rest was gone.]
If you'd died, who would've remembered then?
[Low, matching her tone. He isn't trying to fight her anymore. But it's a flaw in that thinking, a part she might not have to decide this time, but some other down the road. Which was more important: following the traditions, or remembering them?]
no subject
[ she turns back to aristaeus' bed, considers his prone form. searches for something to keep her hands occupied so she isn't left with the awkwardness of this conversation.
there's nothing. this isn't her space, and she is out of things to organize. ]
I do not want to die.
no subject
[He's standing now, hovering awkwardly slightly behind her. Change sucks. He knows. Especially when the thing that's really changing is yourself.]
Do the Kuruko do, uh, hugs?
[She seems like she needs one.]
no subject
the kuruko do hugs.
it is mavis who never did.
this feels worse, somehow. she looks back at him, then slowly nods her head. she has the sense that if she said anything, she would regret it. but she shuffles her feet to turn more fully towards him, opening herself up to it. ]
no subject
no subject
I am sorry. [ she says it again. he wouldn't have been the first to disbelieve her, so she feels like it is worth repeating. ] I didn't expect to scare so many.
[ she did not realize she was something to lose to anyone but herself. ]
no subject
[Half a smile in it, but it's softer than his usual. The sentiment reminds him of Ilde, the maelstrom of her grief and the truth she'd flung at him after so many had already tried to quiet her: that it hadn't been them caring about her or what she was feeling. Really, they'd just wanted her to stop.
His arms tighten a little around Mavis, cheek turning into her hair.]
I shouldn't have-- [He stops. Reshuffles his words.] There's people, where I'm from, that do that kind of thing. Fighting like that. [A beat.] Let's just say I didn't have a great experience with them.
[But he shouldn't have put that on her.]
no subject
[ that's part of being a member of a warrior clan, accepting that other clans will have a kind of hatred for the people you've killed or drawn into debt slavery. she didn't always get it when she walked among the kuruko, but she had learned a little about it since she had lived at their edges, toeing the borders to keep the terms of her exile.
it's forgiveness, of a kind. not that he'd really asked for it, in explaining himself, but freely given. they can understand one another a little better for this.
she draws a deeper breath and pulls out of the hug. she considers him, then admits, ] This room is better. Quieter.
[ a new, less fraught subject.
both his mind and aristaeus' are a bit of a reprieve for her. and she knows that while murphy feels similarly to felipe about wanting to keep her out, murphy can hold that boundary on his own without retaliating against her for what she can't help. ]
no subject
Yeah, I'm sure you two will change that. [He gestures at Aristaeus.] Once he's conscious again, I mean.
[Yes he is really following a heart-to-heart and hug with sex jokes.]
no subject
Yes, probably.
[ it's honest, at least. so honest that it completely cuts through the joking delivery, as if she had never noticed it.
but it's a little hesitant, too.
because she has only just now started to consider how all of that context might apply to herself, and how it might mean other people seeing her get subdued and overpowered, as she had been at the castle, and in the void. it pricks at her pride. ]
Does that bother you?
no subject
[Public sex seemed to be quite a few people's preferred kink, and then there were the festivals and everything else in between. Besides, there'd never been that much privacy on the Ark, and the Dropship camp had had even less. He shrugs.]
Just give me a head's up and I'll find somewhere else to be.
no subject
You don't have to.
[ this is clumsily extended. she doesn't want him to feel like he has to find somewhere else to be just because they're busy. she knows what it's like to be made unwelcome. that's not what this is. ]
Unless we are bothering you.
no subject
That isn't really how things work, where I'm from.
[Unless you were absolutely stuck in close quarters, you gave a couple space. He isn't stuck, has plenty of other places he can go.]
It's more about... respect, I guess. I respect you two needing time together, and you respect my occasional need to sleep.
no subject
Thank you. [ even if this is put very awkwardly, like she's not entirely sure what she's thanking him for. ] I will make sure we don't wake you.