lifetothefullest | [IC Inbox]

[Ephemera hums noncommittally. Given the choice, he'd rather not talk about it. Just heal and move on. But he promised to do better. It doesn't have to be easy. Life never is.

Instead, he hands Sweets a piece of thick paper, folded in half. It's a sketch from the dream they shared, the woman with the brilliant smile grinning up from the paper. He's worked hard to get her eyes just right, the crook of her smile.]

That's for you. Look at it later.

[He's quiet for a moment.]

I fucked up. Got in a fight.

[Lance takes the paper, more than slightly surprised and even more curious, but he nods and carefully puts the paper into the front pocket of his hoodie for now.]

Okay, thank you.

[For whatever it is, but he'll wait to find out with great effort. What Ephemera says next at least helps give him something else to think about, although it's not necessarily something he wanted to hear.]

It looks like it was some fight. Are your ribs broken?

[Judging by how he's moving, he's making a guess.]

[It wasn't, really. It was natural consequences, exactly what happens when someone without armor goes against someone who has it.

Ephemera nods.]

Yeah.

[He watches Sweets for a moment. It doesn't have anything to do with the fight, but it's important. And he's trying to tell the truth these days.]

I was in prison. Before I came here. Thought you should know that.

[His eyebrows furrow slightly at the sudden admission; clearly Ephemera thinks telling him that is important, but it feels like a non-sequitur to Lance and so he has to ask--]

Okay. Why do you feel I should know that?

[Other than that it might explain a little bit about how he behaves.]

Feels relevant.

[Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Sharkface never really bothered with psychology. Ephemera feels like he ought to know a little more. He knows how people fight, how far his body can bend before breaking. That was enough, when he was Sharkface. Any more was just a distraction from his goals.

And now?

Now he has to be a whole person.

He stares at the wall for a moment, at the mural there. Chorus on fire. A planet burning. He did that when he was drunk and lonely and hasn't painted over it.]

Got into a fight with Kyna. I hurt her.

[He says it quietly, without looking at Sweets. He hadn't meant to. But what he meant doesn't matter nearly as much as what he did.]

I didn't mean to. Was just gonna make a point. But I'm faster and I had armor, and I didn't stop.

[Just how it was. He waves his shooting hand vaguely in Sweets' direction]

Paid it back to Washington. Ribs, hand. So it's done.

[This time he does look at Sweets.]

I don't want to be like this.

[Lance is quiet, watching Ephemera's expressions and gestures as carefully as he is listening to what he's actually saying, and he's... Really not pleased by any of this. It hasn't been that long since they spoke, has it? Lance's sense of time is a little skewed by not sleeping well and dealing with everything going on, so he's not completely sure, but the exact amount of time doesn't matter.

And although he appreciates that Ephemera is owning up to what he did, that doesn't undo that he did it. But before he addresses anything else, including that last bit, Lance has to ask a few things first.]

How badly was Kyna hurt? What caused the fight?

Broke a couple ribs.

[Could've been a lot worse. He could have killed her.

Ephemera thins his mouth.]

Stupid shit. Washington. She said some stuff about Drake.

[Alright, well, that makes the 'paid it back' part make sense, but Lance will address that in a moment. He's too focused on this part for now.]

So you broke her ribs because she said something you didn't like?

[He doesn't bother hiding how disapproving he is.]

[Ephemera shakes his head.]

Was just gonna toss her in the dumpster. Then she hit me with some kinda magic.

[He touches good eye briefly. She got him in the face, blinded him momentarily, and then things spiraled.]

Forgot she didn't have armor on.

[This conversation is already hurting him.]

You're aware that she has a right to defend herself.

[Because that sounds like what this is, unless he has completely the wrong impression. And sure, getting tossed in a dumpster might not be dangerous, but he wouldn't blame her for fighting back anyway; besides, everyone's on high alert after the Null thing.

And as sympathetic as he's trying to be to Ephemera's situation, he's not impressed with the justifications or that last comment.]

And you didn't 'forget' that she wasn't wearing armour.

[He doesn't believe that for a moment.]

Edited 2017-11-01 01:41 (UTC)

Yeah.

[He should have backed off, shouldn't have let it get that far. Shouldn't have hurt her, because she doesn't have armor and almost counts as a civilian, no matter what she said. It's not fair.

The second part just gets a shrug. Ephemera doesn't want to argue. It was his fault, so what does it matter if he switched into combat mode and just went after her like a real enemy?]

[He's not happy with that answer, but decides to continue addressing this after he gets the rest of the story.]

What happened with Washington?

[Yeah. That.]

Had to make it right.

[Kyna didn't want a useless apology, so. Ephemera waves his right hand vaguely, with the two splint fingers.]

Shooting hand. I did that. He broke my ribs.

And you two decided this was a good way of handling things, especially with everything else going on.

[There's too much in this to even get to right away, and he needs some extra time to sort it all out mentally, so the dry comment is pretty much all he can manage at the moment.]

Is it at least settled? Between the two of you, anyway.

[Because he notices there was nothing about Kyna in there, and that's an entirely separate problem.]

[Ephemera just nods. He doesn't hear the sarcasm. It seemed like a good way to even things. Still does. Pain for pain. Better that then letting Washington hurt Drake.]

Think so.

[Until he fucks up again.]

It's done with Kyna, I think. I drew something for her.

[Ephemera nods to himself.]

She didn't want an apology. But she kept that.

[Lance takes a moment to take a deep breath, trying to collect himself mentally and figure out how to handle this. It's all so out there and such a mess, especially considering everything else going on, that he's not even sure where to start; it doesn't help either that his instinctive, visceral reaction to all of this is a combination of anger, frustration, and horror that he has to fight against acting on.

But he's going to do what he can, both because he isn't ready to give up on Ephemera just yet and because even if he were, it's not like he can just refer him to someone else.]

Okay. Let's go through this in order.

[It's the only way he can think of to approach the entire mess, but first--]

You should sit down, though. Has someone looked at your ribs?

[He presumes so since his fingers are taken care of, but he wants to be sure. Lance had only allowed his own more visible injuries to be treated initially, and it's possible Ephemera has done the same.]

I'm fine.

[He glances at Sweets briefly.]

Saw the medic and everything.

[It hurts and it won't heal quick like he wants, but that's the point.]

That's good, but you should still sit down. How many ribs did you break?

[Because it'll give him a sense of how concerned he should be, and if he should watch for any worrying symptoms.]

Three.

[Probably cracked some of the plates holding him together too. Ephemera doesn't think about those much. They won't be important until they fail.

He stares at the mural. Chorus burning. It never happened, but it could have.]

That's enough to warrant sitting.

[He's not letting this go, both because he genuinely wants Ephemera to rest a bit and because it'll also give Lance reason to sit down too.]

[Ephemera glances at Sweets. It seems important to him. So he nods. Sits down carefully at the kitchen table.]

Sorry about the mess.

[There are paints and paint stains everywhere.]

[Okay, good, one thing done; Lance takes a chair across from him, glancing briefly at the indicated mess and then back at Ephemera.]

It's fine.

[He means it; paint is the least of his concerns right now.]

Lets start with what happened with Kyna. Can you tell me in more detail how the argument and fight occurred?

[He not only wants to know exactly how it went down, but he wants to hear how Ephemera describes it.]

[Ephemera prods two of the paint tubes until they're lined up, just for something to focus on. It doesn't help much.]

Does it matter? I fucked up. She said shit and I let it get to me.

I wouldn't be asking you if it didn't matter.

[He's being as patient as he can manage at the moment, which isn't all that patient, so he's really not interested in being second-guessed.]

[Ephemera doesn't look at Sweets. Gives the paints another prod.]

Wasn't looking for her. She just showed up. Said I was ruining the vibe, or something. I told her to fuck off.

[He tightens his jaw.]

She said he was better than me. Washington. Then she called me a liar. Said some things about Drake. I got mad.

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