2023-04-10: .new beginnings and the same old hatE
- Log: .new beginnings and the same old hatE
- Cast: Yuliana Kafim, Eight York
- Where: Orb Union -- Park
- Date: 2023-04-10
- Summary: Eight happens across one of Yuliana's community gatherings, and has suspicions. Yuliana can't resist attacking her while she has the opportunity -- only to rapidly walk it back when she realises she's pregnant. Eight learns that even Yuliana has some lines she won't cross, and why they're personal... and gets some more information about Yuliana's motives, too. But Yuliana isn't being quite as respectful of Eight's mental health as she is with her physical health...
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
OST: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xN0FFK8JSYE Flyleaf - All Around Me
Lost?
Alone?
Confused?
This world is a cruel place. War claims or changes those closest to us; some of us, never loved, have no love left for others. You have questions you have never asked another soul, looking down the barrel of a gun designed to destroy the Earth.
Why?
Why is this happening to me?
You know the malice of this world already.
Perhaps you are even cursed to know for certain.
There is hope.
There is silence.
It is only in the fortress of ourselves that we can reclaim our love for humanity. The cacophony of this world has made monsters of a thousand saints. It must not claim you, too.
This existence isn't all there is.
We can save you.
Join us...
Men and women with dull green eyes have begun distributing flyers much like these, throughout the Earth. The addresses at the bottom of the flyers lead to local places, town halls and community greens and other places where people congregate. Like here, in Orb --
Where a small crowd now files out of an artificial park, its greenery all carefully-sculpted. They murmur amongst themselves, wondering about meditation and philosophy and whether Newtypes are real. On the green, a woman in black and green robes oversees a handful of people packing up A/V equipment; the space was legally rented, of course. All their papers are in order.
Her papers, rather. Yuliana Dispersal -- no, it's Kafim, now -- rules this space, at present. An emerald-and-diamond studded tiara flares out with twin golden wings behind her ears; coupled with the ridged cloak flaring out behind her robes, the effect is distinctly draconic. As her minions pack up the space, she occupies herself with admiring a carefully-cultivated orchid, cradling it in a dark hand all decorated with her rich wedding ring and purple bracelet. (She has hair, again. Bangs, even. Now they flare out to either side of her head, obscuring her ears. And her eyes... well, they're different, too.)
The last time she was seen publicly was in those terribly publicised raids on an REA laboratory, back in February -- though Verdiska's appeared a few times since then. The religious posters they put up, of course, made no reference to who the 'us' involved was... but apparently, it's Yuliana.
Just what is she up to?
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Eight York is in Orb again, as her ship restocks a few things and she has to grab others herself. More on that later; it's a surprise tool that may help!
Something less 'helpful'? The flyer Eight was given. She regards it thoughtfully, frowning more and more as she reads through it. She has a bad feeling about this one. ...Which obviously means she needs to investigate a bit. So, after checking in with Chovan and letting her know where she'll be just in case...
She got to looking. Eight, for her part, is not in her 3SA uniform; she's in a red dress with a white jacket, and sturdy boots that give a lot of support to her ankles. If one looks closely, she's put on weight since the last time certain people saw her. If one looks really closely, well...
It's a little more than that.
Eight walks past a few of the murmuring people in the crowd. She has checked into those papers, with some quiet research on her phone. And so she sees...
Yes, that's very draconic, all right.
"Branching out?" Eight asks of Yuliana with a frown, as she steps close enough to feel that icy-water nothingness that interrupts her connection to those around her.
"I didn't think religion was your styl--"
She stops short when she sees Yuliana's eyes, staring at her for a moment. That's different, all right.
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
How hurtful! Those flyers are very helpful! Indeed, none of the people filtering out of the meeting look damaged at all. Neither do the people on the team... unless one looks closely.
(Their movements are too stereotyped. They're too occupied with their tasks. They don't stop and chat, the way a sound crew does.)
Hearing a familiar voice, Yuliana shifts her heel to a side so she can pivot, smoothly, to face Eight. Her fingers trail and leave the orchid untouched; it sways, behind her, from the motion. She meets Eight's eyes, and a grin spreads over her lips, the higher of them lifting in a shade of disdain over her amusement.
She has one too many teeth, sharp and clustered about the right side of her jaw. Eight did that to her.
"Do you object?" She asks, and she sounds friendly enough, as she takes another step towards Eight. Somehow, that cloak seems to swirl around her even though it's a relatively still evening, out here. "Shall I forgive you your narrow-mindedness...?"
As if Eight's the one who needs forgiveness.
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
They don't. But Eight's not that familiar with this kind of thing, so would she notice the signs if they did? It's much easier to notice the strange way the sound crew doesn't seem to stop and chat, doesn't seem to do much of anything other than their work...
Disdain. Of course, she would think that way. Eight shakes off her surprise after a moment. It's strange, but--
Well, the raid was highly publicized. Apparently more happened there than was obvious.
She remembers the tooth, at least.
"Is there something I should object to?" Eight asks back. "I don't really need forgiveness from you." A pause. "Though yes, in fact, I read your flyer. The 'malice of this world', is it? There's a lot of trouble in the world, but distancing from each other isn't the solution, Yuliana."
"Even if it were, I just don't believe you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart. What's your angle?"
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
There's not much to the sound crew, but there might not be anything to that. Not everyone is psychically receptive, and people who work with Yuliana are surely unlikely to be.
"Isn't it?" Yuliana wonders, arch and Socratic, tilting her head. (Those jagged extensions to her tiara, on examination, are broader than they look.) Her grin splits her face just a little wider, as Eight probes her angle.
"Of course you do not believe, blinded by the hubris of your limited existence. Emboldened by your transgressions, you think yourself arbiter. It's really quite funny," and she does laugh, fingers curling lightly at her neck. (The spines of her cloak wrap about it, admixture of green and black.) "Oh, but it's all right. I will save you, too. This world did not abandon me, kidnapped and tortured, and so I shall prepare it for its salvation."
Her eyes narrow, green as a monster.
"But you..."
All a sudden her hand darts out, to grasp at Eight's wrist to yank her in. "You, it is not so easy to forgive," Yuliana sneers, and as she moves to pull Eight in so too does her cloak sweep out, as if to wrap about her whole.
She's probably not about to give her a hug.
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Sound crew aside...
Of course Yuliana grins, she is very good at grinning. Eight's expression is flatter. Yulaina laughs; Eight does not. Instead, she narrows her eyes. "I don't think I'm the one who's 'limited', Yuliana."
She'll 'save her too'. Eight sees those eyes narrowing, and she doesn't feel Yuliana's intention, of course. But she does feel her hand at her wrist--and she is pulled part of the way before she has a chance to react.
React she does, though. She plants her feet and pulls at her arm, her purse falling from her shoulder.
"Don't touch me!" Eight hisses, protective of--
Well, not just of herself.
Eight's other hand comes protectively about her abdomen, as she sees to tear herself free.
"Pushing around pregnant women is your business now, is it?" Eight snaps back, and for a moment--Yuliana might see that she's actually afraid, unlike the last time they got into a tussle like this.
She isn't so worried about her own health, after all.
The prenatal vitamins that roll out of her purse are something of another shoe dropping. But Eight says nothing of forgiveness or salvation now. There's a wild quality building in her, though she keeps a lid on it for now.
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
"Oh!" Yuliana exclaims, and --
Most surprising of all, perhaps --
She actually does let Eight go. Not even roughly, though it would be easy enough to set her off balance on releasing her. She takes a step back, raising her hands, palm-up; her cloak settles behind her. The malice in her eyes has been blanked by surprise. "You haven't just put on -- oh, I see, I -- I didn't expect such a thing. I'll apologise for that."
She even leans down and catches that bottle of vitamins before it can roll too far away, and slips it back into Eight's purse. Picking it up, she holds it at arms' length in front of her for the other woman.
"Excuse me," she says, embarrassed, glancing away. "My quarrel is with you, not your child. I'll take you to task when I'm facing you alone. Um... congratulations," she adds, and the awkwardness is a strange shift from how vicious she's been.
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
It is very, very surprising. Eight would've gone flying back if Yuliana hadn't let go so carefully, given her surprise. But Yuliana steps back all peace and contrition apparently. She will 'apologize for that'.
"No," Eight says, "I haven't just put on weight."
She pauses again, and looks suspiciously at Yuliana for a moment before she accepts her purse back, and is... completely set off-balance by this entire change.
"You..."
She opens her mouth and closes it again. "Just like that?" she wonders. It's a huge awkwardness, and unlike Yuliana's flyer, this does get to Eight. "...Um," the Captain who is still a Captain says, "Thank you."
"...It's his. The engineer's. Lavhi's." A Zentradi name, of course.
"You're going to let this go for now just like that...?"
Eight can't very well keep pushing Yuliana's buttons in the wake of that, but she's still frankly baffled at why she would care so much. "I'm... almost twelve weeks," she says lamely.
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
Once Eight's got her purse back -- which, again, isn't handed over with any dirty tricks -- Yuliana folds her arms, across her chest, grasping at the black cloth over her elbows.
"Well -- yes," Yuliana says, and it is so awkward, when Eight questions whether it's as easy as that. Her scarred cheeks are red with embarrassment, and she blinks, looking to Eight when she mentions who's the father. "Lavnadim?" She's familiar with him, of course. Don't ask why. "I can hardly blame you. I'm sure I would have regarded him as quite a catch if men were my cup of tea," with that potential attraction in the past tense, because: "I married a Meltrandi too, you know." She does have that wedding ring. It looks very expensive.
Clearly she married up figuratively as well as literally.
"Twelve weeks... so you'll be out of the reeds for a lot of complications by now. Good." Yuliana glances aside, again, fingers drumming on her elbow. "Yes -- just like that. Your baby's done no wrong by me. I do have standards, York." Does she?! Well, she's keeping herself a respectful distance from Eight, and she hasn't made an aggressive motion since she realised what was going on. Even her voice is quieter.
She frowns, struggling with herself, for a moment. "Besides, I... wish to be a mother, myself," she offers Eight more halting context. "So... I won't bring myself to crush that dream in someone else, even if it's you."
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Yuliana is embarrassed, to look at her; Eight sees the blush in her cheeks even if she can't 'sense' the embarrassment itself, and it's a frankly surreal--almost nauseating--experience. 'Almost', because Eight is very familiar with nausea now, and this doesn't do the trick.
She's also familiar with reading people the old-fashioned way, so it doesn't catch her as off-guard as it could another person of her nature.
"Right," Eight answers, and does not ask why she is familiar with him. "He is," she agrees, and learns a little more about Yuliana in that moment. Not into men. That's.... something. "I see," Eight answers, and looks over the very expensive wedding ring. Eight is... not sure how to feel that she has taste in partners in common with Yuliana, but, "Congratulations," she answers that.
Eight does not have a ring! Yet. Expect that soon.
"That's what they tell me," Eight agrees about complications, and--as Yuliana explains, Eight straightens her posture, standing a little less off-balanced and understanding a little better. "I understand," she says. "Then some other time." They'll have this... argument.
Eight in turn respects the truce; she doesn't demand further answers... for now. She sees that struggle, too.
"...it's something I've wanted for a long time," Eight says quietly. "I..." Does she actually? "Well, that's a dream I don't begrudge. Good luck." She pauses.
"...I guess I won't be pressing you for further answers today, then. I appreciate..." Pause.
"Well, I guess we can agree on this much, at least. I still don't really approve, but... In respect of our agreement on this, I won't press it for now."
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
Oh, Yuliana hates having something in common with Eight, but she's not going to stand here in front of her and God and claim that giants aren't hot.
They're just going to have to live with it. And say, "Thank you," with as much grace as Yuliana can muster in light of Eight's wedding well-wishes.
(She does peek at Eight's hands. No ring, yet, but Yuliana isn't quite traditional enough to tut-tut at her for living in sin.)
"Some other time," she agrees, mildly enough.
But... Eight's wanted this for a while, has she? Yuliana frowns, as she considers it. "Thank you," she mumbles, unrooted enough that she's even polite to her nemesis.
(Yuliana has a lot of nemeses. Just because she's faithful to her wife doesn't mean she isn't polyantagonistic. That's an entire different relationship section.)
"You know," she mutters, with a deflating sigh, "I do want to help. I'm not..."
Her voice dies on her lips, and her teeth rest there, too. It's calloused with light scarring, on the bottom, where her fang's bitten through the skin too many times. "... I'm not simply what the Federation made me," she settles on, because she can't very well say she's not a monster now. "I'd hope you could appreciate that, given what happened here." Yuliana did hear about their defection to protect Orb. She reads the news, too.
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Giants are very hot. It's just the truth.
Eight notices the peeking, but she is, even after this moment of commonality, not inclined to share her marriage plans that she hasn't shared with everyone else yet with Yuliana. So instead, she focuses on...
That 'thank you' mumbled. Eight, of course, has fewer nemeses than Yuliana, and she is indeed perhaps more restrained in such matters. It's not that she'd say that Yuliana has too many nemeses. Just...
"..."
She wants to help, Yuliana says, and she considers the scarring, the way that she settles. Not... Eight tilts her head, looking over Yuliana thoughtfully. "...No, I believe that," she says after a moment, quietly. "I understand that much. You can be a lot more than they wanted you to be. I believe that. Even given what you've done."
"...But the Federation didn't make you go after my friend. Did they?" She pauses. "If you're sincere about wanting to help, wanting to be more than that--then I won't stand in your way. But as long as you're holding that over her head..."
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
That's fine. Yuliana still has ways of procuring information, even now she can't exploit the Federation's databases.
"Did they?" She wonders, vaguely, and there is nothing to her; no intent but the distance in her eyes, as she glances over her shoulder to that flowering orchid.
Is she sincere? Is she ever sincere?
"I'm an enemy of the state, now," she says, gaze lidded, lips pressed thin against each other as she recalls the REA. "G-Hound and Britannia are at my throat, just the same... and I'm sure your old house has some questions for me." Londo Bell, that is. "So," her eyes track back to Eight, raising a brow, "to whom shall I destroy her reputation, mine in tatters? Please, do give me some ideas."
Is it a reassurance?
"... I don't expect you to understand the burden placed upon me," she scowls, diverting her gaze again. "The Republic wished to create a weapon to destroy Newtypes... from the bones of a human. That you are anathema to me is no mistake. The Titan who created me was sure of that." And the twitch at her lip as she grimaces is no feint at all. Even if Yuliana can estimate -- entirely correctly, in her eyes -- that Eight has all the publicised information on her, framing like this hurts her, too. That's just her style.
Not that this is a fight.
"I know you are piteable creatures," she says, lips pursing. "Of course, you cannot help the damage you do. You may even be trying, despite the error of your psyche. But I was made to hate you. I..." She stops, again, as if there is some lump in her throat which has stoppered the words; she turns her core from Eight, arms still tightly folded.
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
Hm. That's not really an answer. Eight is not reassured by the lack of that answer. However...
"I guess that's true," Eight says, "But it's not the same as your choosing to let it go, either."
It's not quite reassurance. But the 'burden' placed upon her...
Eight does have the information. And she grimaces, at the matter of the Titan who created her. Not that it's a fight, of course. Oh, it couldn't be...
"Once," Eight says, "I would've said the same of you. But the cruelty you've shown..." SHe trails off. She considers; she was 'made' to hate them. The 'error of their psyche'. Eight is sympathetic to that; she's known someone who cursed her open emotions, after all.
"You don't have to, you know. You could let it go. The Federation can't find you everywhere. Britannia's reach is only so far. G-Hound wants it to be farther, but there's places they can't go, either. To say nothing of the power I hear your wife has."
"You know that I understand better than you seem to think. I was supposed to be a weapon, too--just not as specific a weapon as you were. But you have the choice. Some people are lost in what they 'have' to be, and don't have the power to break out. But you were 'saved'. ...You can break free of that, if you want to."
"...You let me be today, because I'm having a baby. That gives me a little more hope for you than I'd had. But these flyers? These people?"
"Just because you're not going after me this time doesn't mean I don't think your ideas are dangerous. So you should know that I'm going to look more into this."
Eight is... troubled, admittedly. The grudge she holds is strong, but...
"It's not like having psychic abilities is what counts your worth as a person, after all--for better or for worse. We don't believe it does, anyway."
She starts to take a step to the side, opening her stance but also preparing as if to go. "...Rita sees something in you," Eight thinks. "For that, I'm willing to look and see if there's anything there. But I won't forget that when it came to her," to Rena, "The only thing that seems to have stopped you is that it doesn't matter that you try to hurt her anymore."
...Or, of course, that she really is tormented by... something.
<Pose Tracker> Yuliana Kafim has posed.
Yuliana is a queen, not a princess, so she's not really the type to let it go.
And her scowl deepens, as Eight says she can break free of it -- only to question her actions. A little twitch of her lips. The flinch is subtle, but recognisable.
"What precisely do you think I'm trying to do here?" She issues, voice thin. "If I can save them... if I can just, save them, then I..."
But the anger which lurches her heart and has her glaring at Eight again isn't feigned. Eight switched topics, but Yuliana didn't hear it.
Or perhaps one of those names are just beating too loud, beneath the floorboards.
"What do you know of Rita and I, anyway!" She demands, voice raising. "How do you think they taught me what they did, you wretched worm?! Don't speak to me of staying my hand, as if I ever--!!"
Tears do choke her out, this time, and her lips lift in an awful snarl. "You understand nothing! You don't know the first thing about what they took from me! You...!" Her hand clenches, tightens -- and she turns and storms off, in the opposite direction, before she can do something she'll regret.
The men with her turn their heads, as she stalks past.
Tellingly, she spits: "Leave her be," and the command is disgusted.
And so, no one moves to apprehend Eight for her crimes -- and Yuliana's soon gone.
<Pose Tracker> Eight York has posed.
On the one hand, Eight doesn't really see the depth of Yuliana's manipulation here; she wants to believe her, on some level, and so she can't entirely hold onto her grudge.
On the other hand, she sees that scowl, that flinch.
Eight doesn't know what Yuliana is trying to do here. That's what troubles her. Is she really trying to 'save' them? ...What does saving mean, in this case...?
Tears. Perhaps it was a mistake to bring up Rita... but perhaps it wasn't. Eight feels bad about it all the same. Yuliana storms off, and this time, it would appear, that Yuliana is the one who was hurt.
...Score a victory for Eight. But it doesn't feel much like a victory, even if the knowledge that she had to tell her crew to leave her alone is something that occurs to her.
"..."
Eight shakes her head, and starts going the other way. She starts to pull her phone, but doesn't examine it until she's well out of range of the crowd. The cold doesn't usually bother her anyway, but...