sirenspull | fourth match

Entry tags:

fourth match | video

[It’s around midnight when Warsman switches his NV on to perhaps a slightly confusing sight: his helmet, illuminated by the stark, flickering light of his bedside lamp. After a moment he turns it back towards him where he’s sat on the bed and runs a hand through his newly-exposed hair, a feathery white-blond and tousled from sleep, or a lack thereof. It makes for a curious contrast to his mask and the glow of his eyes.

But even now he doesn’t look directly at the camera for long; his attention seems divided between the window off-screen and some unidentifiable point in his lap. The hollow ko… ho… of his breathing offsets the silence until he suddenly speaks.]

… how do you deal with nightmares? I thought I had them under control, but that video… [The sentence peters out. He’s not sure how to explain himself without seeming childish or attention-seeking, making another man’s misfortune all about himself, regardless of what it's reminded him of. He tries again.]

When I was still in Siberia, I used to take night walks to distract myself; the snow seemed to soften things. It always seemed more peaceful then. I’ve been patrolling Sector 10 here instead some nights, in case other people get caught out in the Darkness, but…

[A pause- the longer it lasts, the more obvious it becomes that he’s hesitating, building himself up to a confession.]

It’s a little lonely.

[With that, he ends the feed.]

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[It's impossible for Warsman to miss her uncertainty- from what he knows of her it doesn't seem like her to dither like this. At first he isn't sure whether or not to push her to an answer, but in the end he opts for a gentle nudge.]

Why are you frustrated, then?

Do you know what it is like to not know anything about yourself? I don't know where I was born, or how many members of my family are even alive. I don't remember anything. But...maybe my dreams do. And I can't remember them.

[Maybe she's just tired, too. It is not the sort of thing she would normally talk about. She had in fact not told anyone else this yet.]

..It makes me angry.

[Oh, god. Warsman watches the little girl for a few moments in helpless silence, willing the right words to come to him. It's an impossible desire, of course- how could he possibly know what to say to her to make things right?- but it paralyses him nonetheless, along with the deep, aching pity that suddenly overwhelms him.

It galls him that all he can do is be honest.]

Not... not as specifically as that. I'm sorry. [Why is he apologising? He can't help but feel he has to on behalf of every cosmically unfair little turn she's had to face.

He tries to redeem himself.] Sometimes I feel as though I don't know my own body- as though I'm not myself at all, or that I'm not in control, but... [he rubs a hand through his hair stressfully, but his tone stays soft, melancholy] ... if I didn't know anything about myself, I'd be angry, too, though.

It is fine. You do not have to pretend to be sad. I am used to people not caring about me. Most of the time, I don't care about myself even, so there is no reason for others to waste their time doing so.

[There are a few moments of awkward silence.]

My memory goes back less then a year. I remember little things. I don't remember much about my family, though. Just my sister. Her name was Elfriede. I think..I think we got along. I don't really remember.

No, that's not--

[He has to force himself to stop, because suddenly he's getting far too emotional for his own and for Lieselotte's good. It's like he really is looking at a child version of himself, in a way: the quiet, despairing belief that no one could possibly care about him is unbearably familiar. No, never mind a child version of himself. He could have said that barely four years ago.

But even if he can feel the heat of it welling up in his chest, Warsman sits quietly and listens before speaking. He doesn't interrupt. He nods along. He thinks about his response.]

Elfriede? That's a pretty name. It sounds unusual, too; there can't be that many 'Elfriede's out there with a 'Lieselotte' for a sister. You might be able to find her one day. [As if she, in all likelihood, hasn't already been looking.

A pause. There's one thing he can say that might make a different, and he has to be careful about how he says it. His voice is low and, he hopes, heartfelt, because he truly does mean it.]

... for what it's worth, I'm not pretending to be sad. I promise you- I really do care. You... remind me a lot of myself when I was young, so I suppose I feel like I understand a little of what you're feeling.

[The reasons were probably quite different, but in the young girl's case, she actually didn't know them. She didn't know anything about her former life, aside from a few faint memories here and there. And she didn't know why she didn't know, either. Chances are, she'd never find out while she was trapped here, unless someone who knew her was dragged in.]

I cannot say for sure. As I believe I told you in the past, I am from Germany, or at least so I have reason to believe. My name and, of course, my knowledge of the language make it seem obvious enough.

[There's several moments silence, the girl seemingly refusing to look at her NV.]

You are lucky that you're able to fight. A weakling that concerned themselves with others would just be swept away. Of course I wonder how much you'd care if you knew everything. I'm not telling, though. It would be best if you didn't know.

[A pause- and then he gives a short nod.]

That's part of why I fight: to try and keep the world safe for those who can't defend themselves so that they can live peacefully, without the kind of pain I suffered. [ His tone isn't quite so crippled as before, and there's a strength in his body language that wasn't there at the start of their conversation. She's not looking at him to see, of course, but that's more than understandable, considering. His tone softens again, even if the underlying determination hasn't faded away.] And no matter what it is that you don't want me to know about you, I'd still fight for you, too. None of us are angels- least of all me. Abandoning you now would go against everything that I believe in.

You're so very odd. You really don't know much of anything about me, but you seem determined to keep me safe from...from I don't even know. I haven't really been in any danger here, other then the danger of not being a native at least.

[She turns back towards the camera, her face devoid of emotion.]

You shouldn't worry so much. Particularly for someone you barely know.

[He gives a little laugh, just barely under his breath.] Maybe it is odd. I don't know. That doesn't really matter to me. You won't be able to stop be worrying about you, but if you want I'll stop making a fuss about it on the network. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.

[Finally, the girl turns back toward her camera. Her face is just as emotionally neutral as it always tends to be.]

It isn't odd in a bad way. More in one that I just can't understand. I can't look at someone I don't know and find myself caring a whole lot. I suppose it is just because I am used to being alone so often. Makes me think just of myself.

That's funny. Being alone makes me want to think about anyone but myself. [He doesn't deserve the time- and the idea of himself is one that's so profoundly depressing and unsettling that he doesn't like to dwell on it all that often.] You shouldn't have to be alone all of the time, though- I thought you lived with someone?

I guess we just aren't quite as much alike as you thought, then. I've never found myself one to worry much about others.

[That is one place their thinking is intensely different. She believes that most other people are the ones not worthy of her thoughts, not herself. If she actually knew what had happened to her memories, she might not think that way, though.]

I live with someone, yes. I have to. Otherwise, I would have no protection from the dark.

You make it sound as though you never speak to them. Are they more of a housemate than a friend...?

[The girl nods.]

That is about it. He does not seem like a bad person. I would not live with someone that did. But he is frequently busy, so we do not have a great deal of time to speak with one another.

[His mask creases around his eyes in a worried frown.]

I'm sorry to hear that. I'm living on my own right now, so I know how difficult it can be to just have your own thoughts to listen to sometimes.

But I can talk to you. So I have someone to talk to, at least.

[Her face is emotionless as she says that. It is difficult to tell if it actually makes her happy or not.]

That's true. I'm not planning on going anywhere. [The creases soften a little; his mask seems closer to a smile now.] For what it's worth, I'm glad I have you to talk to as well.

It is weird. I have never actually spoken to you face to face, and I do not know you that well, but you seem like someone I can trust. Or perhaps you are simply a good actor. I am not sure which. Either way, I do not hate talking to you.

I'm glad to hear it, because I like talking to you as well. [His own spin on "do not hate"; it's much less negative this way.] And for the record, I'm usually not very good at lying.

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fourth match | video

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