"...For a start, Miss Grace, it is an adjective, not a noun. A state of being."
Why couldn't she have asked someone at the event, where there were helpful sorts all around? Not Helena, whose understanding relies on Erin and what she's observed.
"Gay is, as far as I understand, being romantically inclined to one's own gender."
~Yes, but how do you know? I was never one of the women that the Barmaid dallied with, but she was fun to listen to. Nor have gentlemen ever shown such interest. I am what I am, now; perhaps I'll never be courted. So how do I tell?~
"Them courting you means very little to this question. It is a more a sense of if someone were to court you, do you have a preference as to what gender they are? There is no wrong answer to that - surely someone at the event showed you the banners and had some explanations."
Please. There's only so far she can take this conversation before passing it to someone more knowledgeable.
~I listened to the explanations given to others, yes. I know that the banner which Security flew under is not for me. But...~ She makes a frustrated, huffy sound. ~I suppose this is something I must discover myself, but I had hoped to hear something to compare to. I had thought, from the way the women gossiped, that such tales of desire are...friendly conversation?~
"They are, if you have a tale that is worth sharing."
Thankfully, she can keep her hands busy with feeling the neckline of a dress and then shaking her head when she discovers it's far too low to feel comfortable in.
"It is...more important to some, when they live their lives with such things as a certain possibility, and are not faced with certain barriers. They would have more stories, more grand and enthralling things worth being said. More experience with love."
~Hmm. If the mesmerist and her Patient were in love, then I think the Barmaid and her dalliances were not. Still...~
Her voice trails off into a stream of empty bubbles.
Then, before she loses her courage: ~I met a contemporary of the gentleman Jack. He tried to be gentle, but I could see it in his eyes. He believes Jack to be guilty of horrors beyond being a fierce competitor. Is he right, my poet? Is something terribly wrong with Jack?~
~Both, I think. And neither. Jack's words are important to me. I want to better understand what he influenced me to become...and his sincerity. There truly is no one else to ask this. If there were, I would not bring it upon you.~
Turning her head towards Grace, she keeps her face carefully neutral.
"Mr. Jack's work that he has been so proud of, Miss Grace, is murder. Tales of his deeds reached far and wide, before he was even a hunter. When he speaks of evisceration, what he means is brutal butchery of his fellow man. I know he has been courteous to you, told you much and taught you more, and I do not doubt his sincerity. But his lack of elaboration has done you a disservice all the same."
~...I see. And now those with doubts about me have heard my deep affection for him and surely think me some unholy monster. Your honesty is appreciated, my poet.~
She's tired. So tired. But Grace begins looking through clothes herself, to have something to do, and to think about.
~The tentacles boy, Shouji. He may have questions for you. I only told him part of our story, that circumstances obliged us to be foes. More felt...like it would have if I'd simply broken into your room, and slept in your bed.~
"...Thank you. Should he have questions, I'll handle them."
It should be easier, with people knowing more of her circumstances from the bridge, to accept that. It is not. It still feels like someone is looking at her in a way that she doesn't quite want them to be. Shouji is someone she barely knows. And yet he knows this now.
"I think...when it comes to Mr. Jack, you aren't obliged to completely forsake the friendship. But perhaps keeping the specifics of his work and what he did to yourself would suit better. There's nothing objectionable in 'my friend Jack, from London', after all."
~You underestimate how much I have...how did the Barmaid say it of that bucktoothed vermin...'ran my mouth'. But I will be mindful.~
A hand, light, on Helena's head. ~My poet...there is another friend I have made. I wish to ask your kindness upon him. Not your intercession but merely your great patience. He calls himself Yufei, and he is much as the Wildling, only more so. The manners of society are not upon him. I say this because I think his directness may be startling to you, but I do not think he is a thing like me.~
She twitches a little at the unexpected contact, but remains with the dresses, touching the fabric of another with a thoughtful expression.
"I will endeavor to be kind to him, if he appears around me. So far I have not encountered him, but this ship is relatively small, in our population. If you find others you wish to ask me after, of course, they are also welcome."
Though she can't predict what will happen in the course of a conversation, she can be civil, and promise that.
~Those I've met are already fond of you, my poet. To tell the truth, that frightens me. I am in your place of power, here; I could never fight them all.~
An admission of weakness. It's not what Shouji wanted Grace to say to Helena, but it's the truth all the same.
"And why does fighting them need to come into your calculations?"
She says it lightly, deliberately so, so that Grace doesn't know the jolt of icy certainty that comes into her spine. If she's to be hunted again, she wants to set more terms.
"Or is it that you're still growing into the concept of co-existence with me without violence?"
~...Neither, my poet. Both. My first life ended at the hands of an angry mob, a story I've not told you and don't wish to. What I fear, even if I tell myself that it is absurd to contemplate, is that you grow weary of me and gut me like a fish. Just a whisper and my fate is sealed. I do not ask for your reassurances.~
Grace swims away, to another display close by. Some distance, some privacy.
~I told you before. To be heard is to be truly strong. You are not merely heard; you are heeded. Do you understand?~
"...There are reasons I doubt that, but if I'm to be heeded on anything, then I wish that my request in regards to you will be. Those who know of you, know of our past - I asked them, if they could not find it in themselves to extend courtesy to you, to leave you be. I meant what I said, when I declared this place to have freedom."
It would be simple to hold onto a straightforward past bitterness. It would be more exact than the tangled knot in her chest. But she does not, and will not, and proves with every day that one may live with their killer, communicate with them.
"Your pain is your own, Miss Grace. I will not ask you about it - I have no right to it. I have no right to your life either, for my feelings to dictate whether or not you exist in this world, now or at any time, even on that day you fear, though I believe it an impossible outcome. You do exist, and something higher than me would see it so."
~There are none higher. Gods are stupid, verminous things, and monsters like me cannot have your power. But...thank you, Helena. You may not comprehend the power you wield, but I have already seen it, and it is a thing of terror and beauty. The being Security, I think, personifies it rather completely.~
Grace swims back over, and slowly brushes a selection across Helena's forearm; the sorts of cloth she's seen and felt her poet wear, in endless matches, that she's hooked onto her harpoon and known Helena to prefer, even if she never understood why.
Said as she slowly takes the offered clothing, feeling over the texture. It's soft, and the neckline feels modest, both of which are higher on her priorities.
~It asked me who I was to dare care about you, when we first met. It was my first argument with words. I liked that, and I think I like Security, but do you understand? This was when I understood that I now dwell in your realm.~
Fondly: ~You still underestimate your radiance, and it remains galling, my poet. Thank you, for meeting me. I will remain to ensure the beast gets no ideas, but before I give you your peace...is there anything you want to ask of me? You answered my questions.~
"You give me more answers than you realize, while you ask whatever's on your mind." She shrugs, drifting to another area. "If you have others, ask away. I have nothing else but time for the rest of the day - and I will hear the creature coming, if it wants to come nearby."
~I will stay. I attempted to hunt the beast and it was proof against all attacks; even when little Voyager cast the stars themselves in its teeth. I can get you to safety faster than you can on your own.~
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Asked in COMPLETE SINCERITY.
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Why couldn't she have asked someone at the event, where there were helpful sorts all around? Not Helena, whose understanding relies on Erin and what she's observed.
"Gay is, as far as I understand, being romantically inclined to one's own gender."
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Please. There's only so far she can take this conversation before passing it to someone more knowledgeable.
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Thankfully, she can keep her hands busy with feeling the neckline of a dress and then shaking her head when she discovers it's far too low to feel comfortable in.
"It is...more important to some, when they live their lives with such things as a certain possibility, and are not faced with certain barriers. They would have more stories, more grand and enthralling things worth being said. More experience with love."
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Her voice trails off into a stream of empty bubbles.
Then, before she loses her courage: ~I met a contemporary of the gentleman Jack. He tried to be gentle, but I could see it in his eyes. He believes Jack to be guilty of horrors beyond being a fierce competitor. Is he right, my poet? Is something terribly wrong with Jack?~
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"...Do you ask because you wish to know Mr. Jack better, or are you seeking what Mr. Jack did not tell you?"
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"Mr. Jack's work that he has been so proud of, Miss Grace, is murder. Tales of his deeds reached far and wide, before he was even a hunter. When he speaks of evisceration, what he means is brutal butchery of his fellow man. I know he has been courteous to you, told you much and taught you more, and I do not doubt his sincerity. But his lack of elaboration has done you a disservice all the same."
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She's tired. So tired. But Grace begins looking through clothes herself, to have something to do, and to think about.
~The tentacles boy, Shouji. He may have questions for you. I only told him part of our story, that circumstances obliged us to be foes. More felt...like it would have if I'd simply broken into your room, and slept in your bed.~
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It should be easier, with people knowing more of her circumstances from the bridge, to accept that. It is not. It still feels like someone is looking at her in a way that she doesn't quite want them to be. Shouji is someone she barely knows. And yet he knows this now.
"I think...when it comes to Mr. Jack, you aren't obliged to completely forsake the friendship. But perhaps keeping the specifics of his work and what he did to yourself would suit better. There's nothing objectionable in 'my friend Jack, from London', after all."
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A hand, light, on Helena's head. ~My poet...there is another friend I have made. I wish to ask your kindness upon him. Not your intercession but merely your great patience. He calls himself Yufei, and he is much as the Wildling, only more so. The manners of society are not upon him. I say this because I think his directness may be startling to you, but I do not think he is a thing like me.~
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"I will endeavor to be kind to him, if he appears around me. So far I have not encountered him, but this ship is relatively small, in our population. If you find others you wish to ask me after, of course, they are also welcome."
Though she can't predict what will happen in the course of a conversation, she can be civil, and promise that.
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An admission of weakness. It's not what Shouji wanted Grace to say to Helena, but it's the truth all the same.
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She says it lightly, deliberately so, so that Grace doesn't know the jolt of icy certainty that comes into her spine. If she's to be hunted again, she wants to set more terms.
"Or is it that you're still growing into the concept of co-existence with me without violence?"
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Grace swims away, to another display close by. Some distance, some privacy.
~I told you before. To be heard is to be truly strong. You are not merely heard; you are heeded. Do you understand?~
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It would be simple to hold onto a straightforward past bitterness. It would be more exact than the tangled knot in her chest. But she does not, and will not, and proves with every day that one may live with their killer, communicate with them.
"Your pain is your own, Miss Grace. I will not ask you about it - I have no right to it. I have no right to your life either, for my feelings to dictate whether or not you exist in this world, now or at any time, even on that day you fear, though I believe it an impossible outcome. You do exist, and something higher than me would see it so."
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Grace swims back over, and slowly brushes a selection across Helena's forearm; the sorts of cloth she's seen and felt her poet wear, in endless matches, that she's hooked onto her harpoon and known Helena to prefer, even if she never understood why.
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Said as she slowly takes the offered clothing, feeling over the texture. It's soft, and the neckline feels modest, both of which are higher on her priorities.
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"Security is a more particular case than others. You cannot judge the realm by it alone."
Though it does give her comfort, to think she would be defended so.
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