[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Intermission [Closed]
Jun 5, 2021 2:49:21 GMT -5
Post by Thundercloud on Jun 5, 2021 2:49:21 GMT -5
If there's one thing Thundercloud had learned over a life spent almost entirely behind bars, it's that there's comfort in routine. Everything becomes more bearable if there's a pattern to it, and if that pattern is disrupted – for better or worse, for foul or fair – people tend to lose their shit.
His relationship with Carbine was a perfect example of this simple truth. Their interactions were not always kind, or companionable, or friendly by any broad interpretation of the definition, and at times they brought out the worst in one another. Carbine encouraged his impulsiveness and blatant disrespect for authority and convention, and in return he...well. He let Carbine be himself without the fear of reproach that other mecha would inspire, which he supposed made him an enabler, but whatever. There were worse things he could be, and if being indulgent and complacent was the price he had to pay to keep himself anchored to the only person who actually saw any value in his sorry ass, then so be it.
It probably wasn't right, and it sure as hell wasn't healthy, but it worked. They had a system, a dynamic that had remained the only source of consistency since the war started and they bartered their lives for some semblance of freedom.
And now here Carbine was, throwing a spanner in the works. He was accepting blame instead of trying to weasel out of it, and Thundercloud didn't know how the hell he was meant to respond. This wasn't how things were supposed to go, this wasn't how things <i>worked.</i> He was supposed to help Carbine get out of trouble, to protect him from the consequences of his own actions because God Alive, hadn't he already he already paid enough? Hadn't they both?
For years they had been in agreement, that whatever they had done or <i>would</i> do, they had already paid for it a hundred times over. Garrus had made it easy to justify a lot of things, made it easier to ignore their better angles because they had already pre-paid for whatever shitty behavior they chose to indulge in. It was pretty backwards logic, yeah, but they had made it work for thousands of years and now – now, suddenly, they weren't on the same page. Carbine had gone and had some kind of crisis of conscience, and while a good person would be happy about that, Thundercloud was instead left reeling.
Because he wasn't a good person – he was a good <I>friend</i>, and he didn't know how to reconcile doing what was best for Carbine with what Carbine wanted. It was like he had spent his whole life stacking a house of cards, and now the whole thing had been scattered by the person who helped him build it. He didn't know what to do, beyond stand there in stunned silence, staring at the wreckage, wondering where he was meant to go from there.
“I don't -” He paused, his gaze drifting aimlessly from point to point in search of some kind of divine inspiration which might help him articulate himself.
“-Yeah, no, you're right. I don't get it. We've been doin' sketchy shit for thousands of years an' now you wanna have a crisis about it?”
His words were rough, bordering the fine line between irritated and reproachful, but his tone was level – he wasn't chewing Carbine out so much as prompting the other mech to explain himself, to give him an answer he could live with.
“It ain't the same. What you did an' what got done to you, it ain't the same, alright? Don't go thinkin' you're anything like that psychotic sonova glitch just cause you lost your cool an' rocked somebody's shit a little too hard.”
His relationship with Carbine was a perfect example of this simple truth. Their interactions were not always kind, or companionable, or friendly by any broad interpretation of the definition, and at times they brought out the worst in one another. Carbine encouraged his impulsiveness and blatant disrespect for authority and convention, and in return he...well. He let Carbine be himself without the fear of reproach that other mecha would inspire, which he supposed made him an enabler, but whatever. There were worse things he could be, and if being indulgent and complacent was the price he had to pay to keep himself anchored to the only person who actually saw any value in his sorry ass, then so be it.
It probably wasn't right, and it sure as hell wasn't healthy, but it worked. They had a system, a dynamic that had remained the only source of consistency since the war started and they bartered their lives for some semblance of freedom.
And now here Carbine was, throwing a spanner in the works. He was accepting blame instead of trying to weasel out of it, and Thundercloud didn't know how the hell he was meant to respond. This wasn't how things were supposed to go, this wasn't how things <i>worked.</i> He was supposed to help Carbine get out of trouble, to protect him from the consequences of his own actions because God Alive, hadn't he already he already paid enough? Hadn't they both?
For years they had been in agreement, that whatever they had done or <i>would</i> do, they had already paid for it a hundred times over. Garrus had made it easy to justify a lot of things, made it easier to ignore their better angles because they had already pre-paid for whatever shitty behavior they chose to indulge in. It was pretty backwards logic, yeah, but they had made it work for thousands of years and now – now, suddenly, they weren't on the same page. Carbine had gone and had some kind of crisis of conscience, and while a good person would be happy about that, Thundercloud was instead left reeling.
Because he wasn't a good person – he was a good <I>friend</i>, and he didn't know how to reconcile doing what was best for Carbine with what Carbine wanted. It was like he had spent his whole life stacking a house of cards, and now the whole thing had been scattered by the person who helped him build it. He didn't know what to do, beyond stand there in stunned silence, staring at the wreckage, wondering where he was meant to go from there.
“I don't -” He paused, his gaze drifting aimlessly from point to point in search of some kind of divine inspiration which might help him articulate himself.
“-Yeah, no, you're right. I don't get it. We've been doin' sketchy shit for thousands of years an' now you wanna have a crisis about it?”
His words were rough, bordering the fine line between irritated and reproachful, but his tone was level – he wasn't chewing Carbine out so much as prompting the other mech to explain himself, to give him an answer he could live with.
“It ain't the same. What you did an' what got done to you, it ain't the same, alright? Don't go thinkin' you're anything like that psychotic sonova glitch just cause you lost your cool an' rocked somebody's shit a little too hard.”