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

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[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.]

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[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.]

[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.]

[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.]

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.]

[Digby is a Good Dog. He remains still and comforting as Esther hugs him, leaning his head against her cheek]

[Esther doesn't cry. Something wells up inside her and threatens to overflow while she holds the dog, and she shuts her eyes tight at the press of his soft fur against her face.

It's some time before she lets go, taking a deep breath before going to select a piece of paper and a pen. A moment of hesitation and she simply writes "thank you" before folding it thrice and tucking it under Digby's collar as well.]

[Digby sits still, patiently waiting for Esther to finish her note. When she does, he trots away from the art room, satisfied in a job well done.

He pauses before he gets to the door and barks once, loudly. From the outside, the Piemaker jumps in surprise, waking up from his brief doze]

[Esther jumps at Digby's bark and tiptoes forward, laying a hand on the door-frame before leaning out and blinking at Ned.]

Hello.

[What follows is a long, awkward moment during which she looks up at him in apprehension. Ned was sweet enough to make a gesture of kindness toward her, but she has no doubt she's lost much of his trust and not a little of his respect.]

How long have you been standing here?

[The Piemaker looks up from his place on the floor, equalling Esther's apprehensive look. He too doesn't know quite how to react, and even while he tries to put out of his head what he's learned about her, the confusion over how to address her now is evident as he keeps shifting expression and position]

Hi.

Just...a few minutes. Not long. I wasn't eavesdropping.

[Digby remains beside Esther, letting his head rest against her hip]

[Almost defensively she lays a hand on Digby's head, ruffling his ear as she continues to stare upward at Ned. It's partly a grasp for comfort but partly a reassurance, an affirmation: At least somebody can still like me.]

There wasn't much to overhear.

[A beat passes, then another. When it becomes too awkward to handle she suddenly bursts out with something before nervously looking back down at Digby.] Thank you.

[Yes, Digby still likes Esther very much, especially when she's so affectionate lately. The Piemaker cringes a tiny bit at the pointed, unsaid barb because she's right. She's...well, maybe she's not the person the Piemaker thought she was. How much of it was an act?

He starts as she makes her exclamation, looking down hurriedly at his shoes]

You're welcome.

I just thought.

You're welcome.

[She looks back up at him with great hesitation, as if she's not sure she's allowed to.]

What did you think?

[He hates the look she gives him, wondering when life became so weird and complicated that he'd have trouble expressing himself to what he once thought was a little girl]

That you needed some..nonjudgemental companionship.

Dogs are. Good for that sort of thing.

Especially Digby.

Oh. [She didn't realize until he said it that she hoped he might offer her that himself. Not that she should be surprised; it's not something that a person can easily give.]

He is. Very good.

Yes. He is.

[The Piemaker, while hypocritical, at least recognizes that fatal flaw of himself and resolves to correct it]

...I know it's not especially comparable, but I had a life-changing secret that I kept for decades. And I remember...

I. I mean, I wanted to say.

I should have come sooner. But it seemed that there were enough people around and.

...

It's all right. [Ned's secret was staggering, but he's right. There's something about it that isn't comparable, something magic to her mundane - it's similar in its gravity, and maybe that alone. But that's all right. So is his confusion. At least he wanted to relate; he tried.

She smooths Digby's ears once again and looks at the dog.] May I stay with him for a bit?

[Finally, the most awkward of smiles emerges from the shaken Piemaker]

Stay with him as long as you want.

I only want to borrow him for a little while.

When you want to stop borrowing, just tell him to go home. The one nice thing about the Barge is that you can't really...lose your dog here. What with limited space and all.

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

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