versusnurture | fifth ♢ private + voice + spam

private/voice } ben

[She contacts her warden as soon as Hannibal makes his announcement. Last night, when she checked in, she was distant; this morning she seemed more confident. This afternoon, she's shaky, uncertain, every bone in her body trembling, it feels like.]

Ben. I lost time. [This is an excuse, she knows.]

He made me dinner, Ben.

public } voice

[She cuts the feed on, then off. On/off, on/off, in strange but rhythmic patterns like Morse code.]

[She's fishing. Questions, accusations will come - she remembers that much from last time, with her real father, with Garret Hobbs, the Shrike. She wants them now. She doesn't want to wait.]

public } spam

[She doesn't change her routine, not even slightly. Which is not to say she's not afraid: she's terrified. There's no Freddie Lounds here to publicly doctor this story, to minimize her shame. Even if there was, she honestly isn't sure she'd want that anymore.]

[So she walks the halls and accepts what comes, goes to the art room, goes to lunch, visits Ben on his shift. Sometimes she goes to the CES and forgets where she is and how time passes. Hours and hours go by as she sits under a tree with her knees pulled up to her chest.]

[This is the only vulnerability she shows, and it is accidental.]

private } zane

I know what he wants from me so I can ask him for information if that's what you want.

[It's about the Emperor, of course; she no longer has the privilege, in her own mind, of contacting Zane for any reason other than business.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Personally? [That requires a lot of thought. He knows it should be something like this, that that would be the human response, but he's not human. He doesn't want to be human, even if he's started to feel a little more compassion for certain members of their species.]

Continuing to be overlooked and considered inferior by beings who are too arrogant to realize how blind they are. But I know that isn't exactly the answer the average human would give.

[She doesn't judge this, even though it's distressingly familiar. She shouldn't overidentify; David is not Hannibal.]

If I wanted an answer exactly like an average human would give, I'd ask an average human.

That's what it's supposed to feel like for someone like me, eating part of another person. Like the worst thing, the most awful and vile thing that could ever be. And it's still wrong. I want to throw up for days.

But I can feel it becoming normal.

Do you understand?

Intellectually.

When one is consistently confronted with unusual circumstances they might originally have reacted one way to, they are often forced to either adapt to survive, or give up and crumple.

Evolutionary imperative.

David.

Should I give up?

What do you want to do?

I want to fight.

Then fight.

The only being who can force you to accept something is yourself.

. . . Yes.

I knew that, I think.

I was expecting it. But sometimes even the things you expect can catch you wrong.

I know.

Do you have a plan?

Everyone keeps asking me that. [She's almost amused.]

I have several. They're germinating.

Good.

May I ask a question?

You can ask me anything.

Why did you pretend Dr. Lecter was your father?

Because he is.

[She's confused, and sounds it. He just is.]

He did everything that fathers do. He protected me. He cherished me. He showed me how to be strong.