Eleveth little lie ♰ This room's gonna be my grave and there's no one who can save me

[beingdifferent]

Spam
[There is nothing that can undo the damage that's been done.

Since Bond's (violation) revelation Esther's clung to what little privacy she has left. As soon as she was given permission to return to her cabin she'd barricaded herself in. The formerly pretty little room is in a shambles now, littered with torn books, ripped clothing, smashed toys, shredded drawings, and broken furniture. She herself fares little better: for days she's been locked in alone, wrestling with tides of rage, fear, and sadness, knowing she can't return to the other passengers. Rorschach's occasional appearances go mostly unacknowledged, and when he checks in on her she says nothing of consequence. Why should she? There's nothing to say.

What she did was perfectly sensible. Someone had power over her; she neutralized the threat. And it's not as if Bond didn't deserve to die. There is some meager comfort in knowing she's hurt him as badly as he's hurt her, but it's nothing compared to the reaction that is sure to face her when she goes out again. A quick overview of Bond's post humiliating her confirms what she suspects. There's astonishment, fear, gloating, revulsion, rage - all the normal emotions a freak inspires.

And they wonder why she said she was a child.

After she reads the messages she destroys her communicator, then smashes it again when it reappears. Then again and again, until she becomes so impatient with the Admiral's game that she shoves it into the back of a drawer. She buries herself in her Bible, refuses food, sleeps too much, ignores the flood announcement and all its effects. But she has to come back out sometime, when the hunger and the impotent anger become too much.

So she puts herself back together. A sponge bath, styled hair, a fresh dress. Makeup, again. Ribbons tied just so around the scars on her wrists and neck. By all appearances a child again. And why not? What are they going to do, accuse her of lying?

The first stop is the mess hall, where she ferrets out a meal and eats in relative silence, staring at the others passing through and minding their own business. When she feels their eyes on her too keenly she slips out and makes her way down to the art room, where she settles down at the piano and flexes her fingers. Then she touches them to the keys and begins playing Prokofiev's sonata no. 7, third movement; appropriately angry, fittingly difficult and treacherous.]

Comments

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[deadly_ned]

[The Piemaker had - has - mixed feeling concerning Esther's deception.

He can wholly agree that what Bond did was a gross violation, no matter the reason. Exposing someone's secret like that in front of everyone, in order to best humiliate the person; that, the Piemaker can never support. He too had a dark secret he'd be loathe to share, and on that front feels a kinship with Esther for having been forced to reveal herself before she was ready.

Yet at the same time, he feels hurt. Betrayed, lied to. Why does he always end up falling into friendships with people who had equally dark secrets?

And yet...

Esther had never hurt him.

Yes, she had deceived him where it hurt the core of his being, but in truth, the Piemaker was no worse off than before he'd known. He wasn't quite sure how to behave or think around her just yet, and knew it would be some time before he felt comfortable enough to open up his shell again.

In times like these, it was best to send a messenger.

In the art room, Digby noses open the door to trot up beside the piano. He sits attentively next to Esther; around his neck hangs a piebox on twine, with Esther's favorite flavor inside.]

[Spam]

[beingdifferent]

[Digby's so well-behaved that it takes Esther a few moments to notice he's there. She stops and offers him a hand to sniff, then strokes his head fondly; there is, at least, one being here that accepts her.

She unties the string and opens the box carefully, frowning when she sees her favorite type of pie just served up like that.

She likes Ned. She'd trust him, if she had to. But she doesn't understand him.

After some consideration she puts the pie aside and unties the ribbon around her neck, knotting it into a bow on Digby's collar.]

[Spam]

[deadly_ned]

[Digby, obedient to a fault, remains still beside Esther as she unties the box from him. When she's done, he sets his head on her knee, peering up curiously at her. He's a dog: Esther smells like Esther, no older or younger than she's meant to be. And that usually means putting up with bows in his fur.

The Piemaker stands just outside the art room, arms crossed, wondering if he dares intrude on Esther's quiet time. He lets out a slight huff, blowing his hair out of his face.

What to do. What to do.]

[Spam]

[beingdifferent]

Good boy. [Her voice is quiet, and when Digby rests his head on her lap she thaws a little more and leans down to hug him around the neck. Although she would never admit it, right now his simple affection is just the comfort she needs.]

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[routemistress]

[Iris doesn't eat in the mess hall herself all that often; too institutional, too busy. But she's just come off a kitchen shift and there are moules marinière today and she loves those - all garlicky and messy and organic.

She's not tried to visit Esther, between the flood and everything else, but she's been keeping an eye out. When she catches sight of the little shape in the dining hall she grins broadly and brings her own food over to sit with her.]

'Ey sweetheart. Good to see you back out.

[spam]

[beingdifferent]

[When Iris settles down across from her Esther steels herself, battening down her emotions. She'd noticed early on that Iris was inquisitive, opinionated, smart. Invasive. All qualities she's learned to distrust in women; they always mean trouble.

And there likely will be trouble. But for now Esther gives no indication of her thoughts, simply glancing up at Iris before nodding once.]

That's kind of you to say.

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[routemistress]

[She dips a chunk of Riddick's bread into the mussel sauce in her bowl and swirls it about.]

Kind be buggered. Esther, I tell people I'm nine 'undred years old 'cause I don't actually 'ave a clue 'ow old I am. That's just the number of years I can account for easily. I'm trying to tell you it makes no bloody difference to me. I don't remember you lying about it - not to me, any road. Not directly.

[spam]

[beingdifferent]

[Her eyes follow Iris' hands but never go to her face. The difference between 9 and 33 years old may not matter much to someone who's been around for a millennium. She doesn't doubt her age is unimportant to Iris, but there's something that is. Even if it's just that Rorschach is her warden, that she committed crimes under his watch.]

What does matter to you?

[sickjoke]

[ Hood doesn't eat in the mess; he takes his meals elsewhere, even after the half-a-week where he was gallivanting about without his hood on. He hid in his room for a time, refusing to come out afterwards as he stitched his now disconnected mind back together, giggling in the dark. He didn't come out for anything; not food. Not drink. Nothing. ]

[ Today, though. Today he came out. Today he pretended nothing was wrong and that there'd never been Jack Napier and that he'd forgotten to guard his secrets and let them spill out. ]

[ Today, he saw Esther, and remembered he was hardly the only one the barge did it to. So he took a pocket full of fruit and grabbed a couple of granola bars and followed her at a reasonable distance to the art room. He was no doodler or artist; a tailor out of necessity, not artistic incline he still went over the place while he played, until he circled around and said, ]

Hi. My name's Jack.

I'm new around these parts, but... I thought we might talk awhile, if you were amenable to some company.

[beingdifferent]

[Hood is not one of the Barge passengers who has piqued Esther's interest. She doesn't know he helped investigate her second attack on Bond, and has no idea of his behavior during the flood. What she sees is a stranger, and she blinks at him before slowly turning on the bench to fix him with her attention.]

You want to talk.

[She's bewildered bordering on suspicious. "I want to talk" is usually followed by someone attempting to exploit a flaw in her lies. Coming from a man who hides his face, it probably means "about your crimes."]

[sickjoke]

Yeah. See, some friends of mine warned me that it's really hard to keep things from people on the barge, and I thought...

I thought you could use a talk with someone who gets it. A little bit.

[ He tapped his helmet, before he asked. ]

You mind if sit down and take this off? It might be easier to chat, and... ah. Explain.

[beingdifferent]

[Isn't he a warden? She wonders what he has to hide. The offer to remove his helmet is unexpected, and means it must be something more than just his appearance. Esther nods, resting her hands on her knees.]

Please do.

[soliterraneous]

[ The music catches Aeryn's attention, the way music tends to for someone who is unused to it to begin with. She doesn't have many feelings about Esther's reveal one way or another; she'd no idea really that it mattered what age the girl was to begin with.

Then again, she's human - which came as more of a shock to Aeryn, who'd assumed after the events on the darker version of the barge that Esther was definitely not - so perhaps the importance lies there.

She'd noticed Esther at the mess hall for the first time in a while but had left her well enough alone. Now, she's tempted to ask questions, like what does it matter if they know and why the locket but they are both much too telling, much too close to the things Aeryn concerns herself with.

So instead, when the music finishes, she gives several short claps. The music is played well, Aeryn can tell that much. ]

[beingdifferent]

[Aeryn's is not a face Esther welcomes at the moment. She keenly remembers the woman's stubbornness on the mirror Barge, as well as her hostility since, and despite the polite applause Esther turns with a scowl, prepared for the worst.]

Are you here to belittle me or to laugh?

[soliterraneous]

Neither.

[ She folds her arms across her chest and raises her chin ever so slightly. ]

Is it that important, that they think you a child?

[beingdifferent]

[Aeryn gets the same frustrated, incredulous look that everyone who's queried why gets. It should be obvious. People care about children, or at least most do. They don't care about a grotesque woman. It's been made apparent many times.]

Of course it is.

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[this_corrosion]

[Gary doesn't notice much, but he has been looking for the girl from the video. He waves his fingers from a safe distance.]

You, uh.

[He's looking at her ribbons, and he works a finger under the ties of his own necklaces in an obvious tell.]

You okay?

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[beingdifferent]

[Esther pauses, fork in hand, and studies Gary for a moment. She wasn't sure who he was, precisely, beyond "new," although she'd seen his responses to Bond. He had been, while not exactly sympathetic, less than condemnatory. And that's something, at least.

She glances down at her wrists then back to him, nodding once.]

Yes. [She's not, but no one gets to see that.] Thank you for asking.

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[this_corrosion]

Yeah, course.

[Of course she's not okay, it was a stupid question. But he doesn't know how to push this, knows if he were in her position he wouldn't want to be pushed. Doesn't really want to know, even. He's got his own problems.

He forces a smile and then ducks his head down and heads for the door with his tray loaded with things that don't perish easily.]

[fridgetothefire]

[Anya comes by the art room to sketch, sometimes, and is drawn in by the music - Ben plays, and while it doesn't sound like something he'd choose, her interest is piqued anyway. She listens for a long time, because it's truly lovely, even though she isn't entirely sure whether she wants to approach Esther - in the end, she defaults to at least making an attempt. She spent too much of her life trying to be underestimated to be anything but impressed and a tiny bit endeared by Esther's run. When the piece ends, she speaks up.]

...well, I feel a little less embarrassed by how much better you are, now.

[beingdifferent]

[It's with some hesitation that Esther turns from the keys to face Anya. The girl's always been respectful to her and she has no doubt she'll continue to be; and as far as Esther is aware, she has no strong connections to Bond or Ellie. Still, she's wary; she's simply not sure she can trust Anya.]

I suppose I have had some time to practice.

[fridgetothefire]

[The truth is, she shouldn't trust her - Anya isn't particularly loyal to her, and sometimes she decieves even people she loves very much. She is less sympathetic to Esther's recent struggles than she should be, perhaps. But she also means her no harm.]

Would you consider giving lessons? My original teachers are all gone. And Ben is amazing, but he doesn't really grok how to arrange it for non-supersoldiers to learn.

[private, maybe spam]

[agoodboyreally]

[He tries to contact her once or twice, not knowing if she'll answer: a knock at her door, a message to her with only a greeting. Learning she's a dwarf and not a child hasn't made much difference to him. He's as much a little boy as she is a little girl, and what matters is they both pretend and hide. When he sees her about again, he calls a second time.]

I'm sorry.

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[beingdifferent]

[The messages are ignored and the knocks go unanswered; the only reason Rorschach was allowed in was because she couldn't have kept him out. When she finished licking her wounds and ventured out she'd resolve to keep to herself, but that hope has already been dashed.

And despite the unpleasant circumstances, he's still someone she's curious about.]

For what?

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[agoodboyreally]

[He peeks inside the door, seeing the wreck she's made of it, and that more than anything tells him she hasn't been hiding in a depression, but out of rage.]

That everyone had to find out like that.