View source for 2022-10-19: I'm not a weapon, and other lies I'll tell you to play on your sympathies


*'''Log: I'm not a weapon, and other lies I'll tell you to play on your sympathies'''
*'''Cast:''' [[Character :: Yuliana Dispersal]], [[Character :: Banagher Links]], [[Character :: Leina Ashta]]
*'''Where: Sweetwater Colony''' 
*'''Date: 2022-10-19''' 
*'''Summary''': ''Yuliana finds a pleasant diversion in Sweetwater Colony. Then Banagher rings Leina, and things quickly become far less pleasant. For Yuliana, that is. They were already quite unpleasant for Banagher.''
----

[[Category:Logs]]
[[Category:Phase 1, Turn 2]]


 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Dispersal has posed.
<poem>

        Sweetwater Colony...

        ... is everything Yuliana hates, about space. The dishevelment is India turned to 11, and without the guiding force of the REA to keep them; a rampant, disgusting breeding ground for Zeonic terrorists and dissent. She's just glad it isn't her responsibility to keep a place like ''this'' protesting politely, and really, she wonders how anyone governs it at all. Even rule of the people is worth nothing when the people themselves are worthless.

        And it's not that she'd turn her nose up at meat from rats, properly prepared, but certainly not from a place like ''this.''

        Nevertheless, her leads have taken her further out, to a deadwater like this. (She'll not trouble Elisa with her own passion projects -- she has neither dignified the Ra Mari with Elisa's attention, nor asked her for anything more than her company, one miserable night out here so close to dead vacuum.) She's remarkably less enthused about tracking people down, in a place like this, but she has her leads to follow.

        As a black operative and an enforcer, Yuliana spends ''quite'' some time investigating foreign threats and her own people alike, checking the work of other departments... and closing in. What she does to the Ra Mari -- no, more and more she is sure she can grasp Rena HERSELF about the throat, that fool girl who said too much -- is not so different to that grim work which takes her all across the globe.

        Which is to say: she is quite, quite thorough.

        Even now she's on... oh, call it a vacation.

        (And always, about her, that horrible emptiness. Empathically, even from a distance, she may as well not ''exist,'' a dead hollow so much more pronounced than the usual dullness of those disconnected. Worse still, to step into Yuliana's space is to know the abyss, isolated and absolute -- every passive connection, every cry for help silenced. It is a thing invisible and intangible to the unawakened; even so, some people avoid her, in the street. A few feel the void calling, the precipice of horror surrounding her, and take a wide berth. No one whose lack strikes her sharply enough to bother with.)


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
<poem>

Meeting with Kamille bolstered Banagher's spirits. Much of the gloom surrounding the young man has faded, and while sleep still evades him, he's at least taking time to rest. And so we find him, resting against one of Sweetwater's few, scraggly trees. Perhaps once there was an initiative to line this street with trees, judging by the placement, but... it can't have gone well. Few survived to grow into adulthood, and even those lucky enough to live on certainly are not thriving.

The young man has a cheap pair of jeans on, a white shirt, and a minty-green hoodie -- currently pulled up around his face. Audrey told him he can't be too careful when they're going out in public. Brown hair can be seen covering his forehead, chaotic as ever.

Humming softly, Banagher sketches the curve of a simple, non-modified Haro. It's no work of art, really, more the kind of thing one would expect to see in a technical manual. But to make such an accurate depiction from memory is impressive in itself. His pencil skritches softly against the scrap paper he'd found in Nani's home. Even with the money he got from Sayla, Banagher was raised by a mother who was forced to be frugal to the extreme. It feels more natural to use something cast-off than spend for something new.

"I hope you're safe." The young man murmurs, drawing one flap of the companionable little machine lifted, as though it were waving. A few other drawings litter the page -- several of a familiar single-horned Gundam. Several of other machines, old clunky models from the One Year War era.

Banagher hardly looks the part of any heroic pilot. He appears like any other young man in the sleepy, run down colony. But for anyone psychically sensitive... Starlight practically gleams from each of his pores, illuminating him in a shocking amount of energy and power. It makes him a bit of a beacon, something he was warned about. Something he has no idea how to fix.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Dispersal has posed.
<poem>

        Sleep... yes, sleep evades Yuliana, far too frequently.

        Never mind that.

        The stars do not gleam, in Yuliana's eyes. No: hers is a stranger light. When her attention falls on that boy by his miserable excuse for a tree, what Yuliana sees is all the carved-out space where information ought to go, something MISSING, a loud and screaming -- ''lack.''

        She cannot reach him; she is conscious of being unable to reach him. What a cruel combination.

        And so, so blatant...

        Yuliana decides she can afford to keep one of those subjects waiting, a little longer.

        She approaches amicably, hands in the pockets of her dark suit, entirely too casual; there's evidence of new healing, on her face where her bangs have been clipped away to reveal the old scar down her left eye, freshly-regenerated skin on her forehead and her cheek. She seems healthy enough ''now.'' Seems friendly enough, now.

        And yet, the silence.

        There's a cheerful purple scarf tied about her neck, as if to break up what would otherwise be rather a serious outfit. "Ah," she breaks the barrier of strangers, stopping far enough away to not plunge him into the abyss. "An artist..?" A moment's pause, and she lifts her hands -- open-palmed, without a weapon -- to gesture, good-natured. Her opening curiosity is followed with a shade of apology: "Excuse me, excuse me. I was just reminded of someone!" She speaks as if she didn't mean to intrude; her body language is relaxed, and so is her voice, and too all physical senses she doesn't seem any trouble at all.

        And to all psychic senses, she doesn't seem anything at all.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
<poem>

Banagher startles, a line going astray from the jerk of his hand. He didn't sense anyone coming up to him -- where did this woman come from? Was he just too focused on his drawing?

"Oh, not really." Banagher says, a little bashful. He looks up at the woman, eyes stopping on her purple scarf. It's a nice pop of color, breaking up the monotony of her deep green outfit. It's unusual, the brightness... Even color has been crushed out of Sweetwater, in many places. Aside from the brilliant graffiti staining Char's old mansion, of course.

...she's so quiet. There's not a hint of emotion, or aura... Could she be a Newtype with powerful walls, like Sayla? Maybe this is someone who can offer him help in that area. Slipping his pencil into his hoodie's pocket, Banagher holds up the scrap paper to Yuliana, looking for approval.

"I was in engineering school, before my life took an unexpected turn." The paper was clearly crumpled up at some point, then carefully straightened out to use for drawing. "I got pretty decent at making diagrams. I don't think I could ever draw something alive, though."

Despite the odd lack of connection with the purple-scarf woman, she's acting friendly. "I'm Banagher Links. I just got to Sweetwater a few days ago, I'm visiting fora bout a month. Can I ask your name, miss?"


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Dispersal has posed.
<poem>

        "Hmmm..?" Yuliana hums, with the rising-tone of a wordless question, as Banagher holds the paper up. She brightens, with a smile. "Oh! Wonderful! You know, I'm something of a mechanic myself -- though I took an apprenticeship rather than classes. You have ''very'' readable lines, there." Which is a compliment, when clear visual communication is at issue.

        She keeps smiling, to him -- it looks perfectly warm -- and turns the name 'Banagher' over, in her mind, for a moment. It sounds ''familiar.'' Where ''has'' she heard it before? "Oh, you're visiting like me! I'm Yuliana," she steps forward, casually, to offer him her hand. "Yuliana Dispersal." She doesn't introduce herself as a Captain, but it's not really a secret that she's one of the REA's own aces.

        Of course, she invites him to shake her hand, but getting that close...


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
<poem>

"Thank you." Banagher smiles, clearly pleased to have his work praised. He takes the paper back, folding it up and stowing it in his hoodie's pocket. "What kind of work were you doing, if you don't mind? I was studying technology research and development."

Oh, a handshake. Banagher stands, stepping closer. "Nice to meet you, Miss Disper--"

Golden eyes widen. Something is wrong. Something is terribly, terribly wrong. Knees feeling weak, heart pounding, even a bit of nausea -- what is this? Banagher leans forward, putting his hands on his knees. The feeling doesn't lessen. Gritting his teeth, he tries to wait it out, but... it just continues.

As if the physical symptoms aren't enough, there's a creeping sense of horrible lonliness. Something he didn't even realize he had has been cut away, and he aches for it to return. A window has been slammed shut, curtains drawn, blocking out the light of the sun. It's cold.

Memories of the days after he left the Gwennangorn flash in his mind -- drifting in the Unicorn, alone, desperately searching for something he couldn't reach. Realizing just how big, and how empty, space really is.

Could this be some kind of targeted attack on Newtypes? Sweat drips down the back of his neck as Banagher manages to straighten up, swaying just a little bit. Is Yuliana feeling it as well, if she's a Newtype with powerful walls? "Miss Dispersal -- something's wrong, I think we're in danger. Do you feel it too? I'm dizzy, and I can't --" He doesn't have the words to describe what's happening. "I can't feel anything."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Dispersal has posed.
<poem>

        "I work with wanzers," Yuliana volunteers, cheerfully, and in the present tense. "My personal Tiandong 3 far outstrips anything else in the field -- hm," her lip scrunches up for a moment, "or it ''did.''"

        Until SOMEONE destroyed it.

        She isn't bothered about that for long, though; she is welcoming, as she introduces herself to Banagher. His head goes forward, and Yuliana's welcoming smile grows teeth, for just a moment, lips curling up as her eyelids veil her eyes.

        No -- as he straightens, as she steps forward to place a hand on his shoulder with concern, Yuliana isn't smiling. She's so, so ''concerned,'' as she moves to steady him. "Banagher? What's wrong? You don't feel ''anything..?''" More serious than she was, she frowns. "Do you think this an attack?"

        She looks behind her shoulder, as if she were worried about someone else. "No," she decides, though she sounds uncertain. "No one would be flagrant enough to strike in the middle of the street. Be careful, Banagher. If you run, you may well be playing into those hands..." And not the ones keeping him upright -- keeping him beside her.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
<poem>

Banagher leans into Yuliana's hands for support, his hood falling back down around his shoulders. Without it, he looks so young -- eyes wide and frightened, face still holding just a hint of childish baby fat. Wild hair falls down in front of his eyes, and he shakes his head to get rid of them. That was a mistake. Vertigo takes hold even more, and he sways -- the world tilting sideways. It's almost like he can feel the movement of the colony beneath their feet.

"I don't know much about Newtype stuff." He manages, "But someone told me I need to be careful of people who would want to try and use me or the people I'm close to, and --" Audrey. What if this is affecting her, too? Banagher glances toward Nanai's home, where the young woman is likely spending her time this afternoon.

"I don't know --! Is an attack like this even possible?" He takes a moment to pant, swallowing down bile that rises in his throat. "I don't know what else it could be. Normally, I can feel everything. All the people around me, it's so -- loud, but this is worse. Not having it... is so much worse!" His voice all-but breaks on the last word, but he holds himself together.

Trusting golden eyes look up at Yuliana. "What do we do? I have to make sure Audrey's safe..."

One hand goes for his hoodie pocket. Strangely, it misses the first time, and Banagher has to look down to make sure he's guiding it properly. A few taps wakes the thing up, and a few more takes him to the messages app. It looks to be a group chat of some kind, Banagher and two other participants. One is registered "Leina" with a pink, ribboned heart emoji, and one "Audrey" with a slightly different pink heart emoji, this one with sparkles.

Fully in view of Yuliana is their text history. Good morning and good night greetings, and at the top of the screen, a series of pictures of three teenagers. Banagher and two young women, all in goofy looking sunglasses, posing and laughing for the camera. Tapping the small letters of his keyboard is difficult. After a few messy tries, he manages:

>you safge.?


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

>at home
>is something wrong?
>banagher u ok?
>it's like ur not there


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Dispersal has posed.
<poem>

        Banagher sways, but it's all right. Yuliana is here to catch him.

        "No... no, it isn't possible, is it?" She realises, still concerned. "Think about what we're saying, Banagher. An attack against Newtypes? Who would create that sort of weapon?" Yuliana, the REA's anti-Newtype weapon, sounds so ''puzzled'' as she asks.

        She looks back and forth -- as if she's trying to find the source. "This colony is in such disrepair... couldn't it be an effect of space?" She wonders, scowling. "I know you're worried for her, but the way you are now, I don't want to leave you..." Oh, certainly she doesn't want to leave his side.

        He's ''delightful.''

        The realisation which flashes over Yuliana's face -- the widening of her eyes and parting of her lips -- when she sees Leina's name on Banagher's phone is not nearly as feigned as most of the expressions on her face. The difference lies in the way she shakes it from her face -- though she does keep looking to his phone, here and there, to keep an eye on those messages.

        "They're all right?" She asks him, as he taps on his phone.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
<poem>

Mineva's reply arrives shortly thereafter.

>i can't either, what's going on?
>wait
>are you with someone?

With great effort, Banagher manages:

>dont know, sick anf cant feel anyone
>are there weapons to attack newtypes?
>yeah nice lady

Looking back up, Banagher nods, slowly. "I've never heard of anything like that... But I've been in Sweetwater for a couple days now, this has never happened before. I'm glad you're okay, at least. Maybe I ate something weird?"

But he's never lost his connection with the world like this before. Not even when he ate that messed-up cotton candy from the trash as a kid...

Going only on the evidence of his eyes, Yuliana seems so concerned, so sincerely worried for him. It draws in the young man. He couldn't be easier to trap in her embrace. So used to relying on his other senses, he doesn't even notice the flash of recognition in Yuliana's expression as she sees Leina's name.

"Yeah. I think they're both fine. They wouldn't be replying if something was wrong, I think." Another sway, and the young man goes starkly pale. "Do you think we could sit down? Maybe we can find a bench -- I don't want your nice clothes to get dirty." Lowering his head, Banagher squeezes his eyes closed. This feeling wouldn't let up...


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Dispersal has posed.
<poem>

        Ah, he has an entire ''circle'' of Newtypes. They all know each other. How... ''nice.''

        Yuliana's concern grows a tad strained, glancing those messages, but only for a moment.

        "Maybe," she hedges, when he wonders whether he ate something bad. "Or... maybe you're sick..? Maybe there's something wrong with you... do you need me to help you to a doctor?" Yuliana pauses, and sighs, a shade frustrated. "Does this place ''have'' doctors?"

        It would be very, very funny, as far as Yuliana is concerned, to let him fall on his face like that clone did. But she's ''helping'' him, and so she slips her arm under his -- it's not difficult, even young as he is he's a few inches taller than her -- to help him walk. (She's quite sturdy; for all her unassuming appearance, she ''is'' a soldier.) "Here, let me help," she offers -- ''after'' she starts that motion, notably -- and once she has a firm grip, she helps him across the potholed street, to a nearby bench. "Oh, don't fuss about my clothes," she assures him, on the way. "I'm really more worried about ''you,'' right now." Oriented on him, certainly.

        She helps him sit -- and sits beside him, leaving a hand on his shoulder. "You're really having a hard time," she frowns, and she sounds so, so ''worried.'' "Why would someone want to target you, Banagher?" As if she's worried; as if she wants to help.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
<poem>

Banagher's eyes widen a bit more as he considers the ideas Yuliana puts forth. Something wrong... He thinks of the unknown drugs the NT-D injects into him every time he pilots the Unicorn. Leina mentioned that it might be something dangerous, something Dr. Bidan should test... Could it be the answer? He must've been exposed to a lot of it at Torrington.

"I -- don't know. I haven't been to a doctor since I was a kid." Banagher sounds hesitant, as though the very thought of seeing a doctor was something other people did. Not him. "I don't know if it's safe, I'm --"

Sayla's lecture comes back once again. Don't tell people about the Unicorn. Don't put Leina in danger. He closes his mouth.

Yuliana starts moving him, and Banagher moves with her without much convincing. There's a brief flash of surprise at Yuliana's strength, but he can only feel grateful for it. Each step is difficult. It's as though his feet don't know how to find the ground properly. "Thank you," he murmurs, focusing on the bench in front of them, as the world spins.

As they walk, Banagher's phone buzzes, but he doesn't dare look at it until they're safely seated. Yuliana is so kind... Banagher leans into her, exhausted. Her hand on his shoulder is comforting, an anchoring point as he's lost in the void. Silently, Banagher begs whatever gods are listening to not let him throw up on her clothes.

Why would someone want to target him? Banagher looks away. He shouldn't talk about it, but this woman has helped him, a total stranger. "I'm a pilot." He says, quietly. "I'm not supposed to talk about it, but my -- mobile suit is pretty, um." A long moment of thinking. "Unique. It messes with me a little. And a lot of people are after her, and me."

Glancing down at his phone, Audrey's response comes in:

>i met someone in the gwennans infirmary. couldnt Feel anything while i was in there. i think it was her fault but she was really wounded, so i don't think it's an active thing
>dark skin, maybe south asian
>teal hair, green eyes i think? i couldn't really concentrate on her much. be careful ok?

Banagher looks at Yuliana. Dark skin, teal hair, green eyes. He blinks in surprise. "You... met Audrey..?"

Before he can finish his thought, the phone begins to vibrate in his hand. A phone call -- from the girl with the pink, be-ribboned heart emoji. Leina.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

>ive got this
>banagher put me on speaker

Banagher's phone rings.

And when he answers, and puts her on, there's something like a sigh...  and a familiar voice. "Yuliana.  Don't you have something better to do than harassing teenagers?"

"Banagher back up a little more than two meters from her, that's her effective range."

Apparently, Leina feeling out her exact range then sitting just outside of it had a purpose after all.

"If that doesn't work, keep backing up from her until it relents."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Dispersal has posed.
<poem>

        "Messing with you... ah, like..." Yuliana trails, as if she's trying to connect Banagher's experiences with something else she knows. "Tell me," she invites, gently, "who is she?"

        Yuliana glances down at his phone, too, and her eyes narrow, for a moment. Ah. The princess, then. She is about his age...

        But she looks to Banagher, confused. "I'm afraid I don't know the name," she says, as if she's bothered she can't help him.

        Ring, ring --

        Yuliana looks ''surprised,'' to hear Leina's voice. (She isn't.) "Leina? What -- what are you talking about? He's not feeling well at all!"

        Her fingers curl, on Banagher's shoulder -- and it looks like such an automatic reaction, the way she pulls away from him, a little, as if she's worried she's overstepped. She doesn't lift her hand. "Away... from me..?" She asks, a shade stunned, a shade wounded.

        "No, I..." She starts, so helplessly.

        As if she's the aggrieved party.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
<poem>

"I'm really not supposed to tell anyone." Banagher says, but it's clear he feels bad about it. "She's too dangerous."

Leina's voice brings no warmth. It's harrowing. Freezing emptiness wraps around the young man all the more tightly, even as Leina speaks through the phone. Betrayal and shock appear on Banagher's face. "But -- you were helping me. You caused this? Why--"

Before he can begin scooting away from Yuliana, her hand tightens on his shoulder, and Banagher glances down at it. "I don't understand. What is this?"

It's so hard to think. Banagher looks at the phone -- somehow a cold object, now, none of the warmth of Leina's aura able to reach him despite hearing her voice. No sense of her intent to reach him. "Leina --" Banagher says, helplessly. "She's holding onto me. She looks so hurt. Are you sure?" 

"Is it really you, doing this?" Banagher goes on, searching Yuliana's face for some hint of the truth. "How? And -- why? I haven't done anything to you!"


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

"Positive.  Yuliana let go or I'll get Major Vinh Pham on the line.  Assault charges for unwanted touch won't look good for you after Torrington."

Her tone is not precisely happy over this situation.  Partially, this is a test.  If she pushes or dares for Leina to call him, then this becomes more likely an official Federation operation than simply a Captain harassing someone while on leave.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Dispersal has posed.
<poem>

        "No, I didn't cause -- I didn't mean to cause --" Yuliana's words sound so upset, so halting. They're all calculated. She knows the name Banagher from ''somewhere;'' she has to know what his use is, to her. She positions herself in the best light, and doesn't give into the urge to pull him in, much as she'd ''like'' to.

        "Please," she starts, and -- ''she's too dangerous'' -- her brow arcs, and her lips part, as if close to tears. "I'm not a weapon."

        Her gaze snaps to the phone, hearing Leina's voice, and she yelps -- "No!" -- as her hand pulls back, to her chest. At a more normal tone, still shaken, she insists: "No, that's not necessary." It's not even something she has to pretend about -- not entirely.

        It ''would'' be difficult to explain.

        Yuliana stands, and steps back, quick to stumbling, two metres away. The world returns, with only a horrible feeling that there's something terrible near. Her own mind, as ever, remains unknowable, untouchable -- but she ''looks'' very upset.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
<poem>

With Leina's confirmation, Banagher steels his resolve. Gently, he tries to pry Yuliana's hand from his shoulder. "You were at Torrington..?" He murmurs, trying to scoot away from the woman. Banagher quickly comes to the end of the bench. Planting his feet on the ground, he lifts himself to his feet -- wobbling.

Each step is a trial. One -- two, three -- and he stumbles, lurching to the side and falling to his knees. He only just manages to hang on to his phone. "Nhh--" But it's enough. Yuliana steps back as well, and... relief. Relief and overwhelm all at once. It's difficult being slammed with the emotions of every nearyby person. Banagher has to take a moment to breathe through it.

The pulse of life returns to Banagher, as though color was creeping back into his world. Leina's warmth gently washes over him, and he embraces the phone close to his chest. "I'm back." His voice is stronger, now, and he gets to his feet. "I feel so much better."

But... Yuliana is still here. Still looking so hurt. She had pleaded with him -- saying she isn't a weapon. Banagher can't help but think of Leina's stories of cloned little girls -- created and shaped to become one thing. They deserved more. Did Yuliana experience the same thing? He didn't miss the way she reacted to the name of some Major.

"Miss Dispersal. I don't believe anyone is a weapon. You have a right to exist and live the way you want to, no matter what you've been through. We have a lot of really smart and powerful connections." His voice is soft, entreating. "If you need help, I'll make sure you get it."

Now that his senses have returned to him, the memory of their loss is all the more terrifying. Does Yuliana feel like this all the time? If she's the source of that emptiness... There's no way she's immune to it, right? Another few breaths, as though he's preparing for a race. Bracing himself, Banagher takes a step closer to Yuliana, then another, and another.

The world is ripped away again. Banagher begins to stumble, gritting his teeth. It's easier, knowing what to expect, but it's still horrible. But Yuliana has to do this every day. All the time. He can do it for a few moments. Moving slowly, with many halting, wobbly steps, he stops right in front of her. With careful movements, each obviously broadcasted so as not to startle, he tries to wrap his arms around the shorter woman. If she backs away, or shows signs of not wanting to be touched, he'll back up once more, not wishing to make her uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you have to feel this way. You deserve better. Please, let us help you."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

"That's a relief.  I'm glad you're feeling better."

The relief in her voice shifts then to something else, as it turns to Yuliana.

"Don't worry.  I won't call him.  I consider that an absolute last resort.  I'm ''not'' out to get you Yuliana, no matter what you might think of me."

Leina still doesn't sound happy, but something has eased up.

"And I agree, you're not a weapon."

Banagher reaches out to Yuliana, and Leina is pretty certain it won't go well, however she's quiet as he does, she lets him say his piece.

Leina knows where it comes from...

"Noone deserves to be treated like that is the purpose of their existence."

Note, she does not imply directly that that is the purpose of Yuliana's existence, she remembers last time, how Yuliana reacted.

So instead she simply asks...

"Yuliana, what did you want with Banagher?"

Pause.

"I find it interesting you knew to approach him.  Just like me.  Just you know, idle observations."



</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Dispersal has posed.
<poem>

        "I'm a pilot, too," Yuliana confirms, when Banagher asks about Torrington, but it's a downcast statement.

        Banagher falls, and the grimace on Yuliana's face sneaks upwards -- just for a moment. Her savage expression is sad, again, in the next breath. He's back, he insists, and the bile inside her for all their crimes roils.

        (No; breathe through it. Don't get carried away.)

        "So you say!" She snaps, to Banagher's phone, mistrustful, when Leina says she isn't out to get her. She frowns, when she hears her agree she isn't a weapon -- ''ugh,'' Yuliana exclaims, to herself. She does quite wish anyone ''else'' were listening in on this conversation.

        But she's nothing if not good at improvisation. "No, no, I don't need help," she insists, to Banagher, a thread of desperation through the words. The lie is uncomfortable and unsettling, but Yuliana assures herself she ''is'' lying, as she says it. "No, I can't. I'm not..."

        Trail to nothing.

        And then... he lurches forward, into her space. How interesting!, she crows, inside the bell-jar of her heart, even as she looks to be frozen in space on the outside. She doesn't move away; neither does she move towards him, as if she's ''worried'' about approaching him.

        His arms wrap around her, and she clutches to him, tightly, as if unmoored from the world. (How simple it would be, she remarks, to herself, to slip the knife from her boot and slide it in.) Outwardly her chest heaves, in a sob which chokes in her throat. "I know," she says, voice trembling, "I know I deserve better, but... Banagher, those people aren't safe for me, someone like me... no, there's nothing about me..." Nothing strange, she meant to say, surely.

        Face across his shoulder, Yuliana glares, gaze darting to the sound of the phone.

        "I simply saw he was drawing! It reminded me of Lettu!" That is, letnan satu; first lieutenant, in Indonesian. She flinches, after that pause, and ''that,'' at least, is something Banagher can feel. "Of course you want to observe me! To know all about me! Oh, I'm sure you'd love to just take me apart!" And if her paranoid accusations are a little sharper than she means -- well, there's a ''reason'' Yuliana isn't allowed to seek outside medical help.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
<poem>

"You know Leina, too..." Banagher's face is curious, despite its pallor and sweat. "Both of the people most important to me. Then you know what we're capable of -- what we can do, between the three of us."

Yuliana snaps at Leina, and Banagher's face darkens, just a bit. "Don't talk to her that way." It's not a threat, but it's firmer than he's been thus far. "She's trying to help. Leina would never do anything to hurt anyone."

If he could just show Yuliana his memories of his time with Leina -- she'd understand, surely. Eyes flickering closed, Banagher tries his hardest. Clinging to a singular memory of his girlfriend... Her in a hospital bed, unconditionally forgiving a sobbing Banagher... He projects it outward as hard as he can. After a few moments, his eyes peek open again, looking for any reaction from Yuliana.

Surprisingly -- she clings to him. Banagher blinks in surprise. He expected the woman to retreat, or shout -- not this. "It's okay. I'll keep you safe! I'm strong, and nobody can beat the Uni--" Snapping his mouth closed, Banagher's cheeks heat. "They've always taken care of me, even after all the mistakes I've made, and people I've hurt. It'll be the same for you, I'll make sure of it!"

"Miss Dispersal." Banagher steps back once, shaking his head as the world lurches around him. No matter how much he wants to help, Banagher won't accept anyone yelling at Leina. He nearly wobbles down to one knee again, but manages to hang on to his balance. "Leina's worked with young women who have been victimized and treated as weapons before. She doesn't want to hurt you. No one will take you apart, or do anything you're not okay with." Banagher manages a smile, even as his stomach heaves and he hangs lost in the void. "That's your right. That's everyone's right."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

"Why would I be out to get you?  Just because you weren't the nicest person to me at lunch and played coy in the REA way doesn't mean I actually want you in trouble."

        Pause.

"Especially given what that means in the REA.  That's not the way I operate."

Leina can't see Banagher's hug, she can't know what's going on in that respect - enough to tell him that.

"Right.  Wholly a coincidence.  You definitely didn't want to harass him.  Which is why you didn't put on a wounded gazelle act to grab him and keep him in your range."

Leina pauses at Yuliana's accusations then speaks back, evenly, "No.  That's the last thing I want to do.  When I talked to you before, I was merely interested in knowing what it was like for you to live as you do.  You wouldn't offer straight answers, and I get that it was naive of me to expect straight answers given the likely classified nature of your condition."

Then there's a pause - "However, after listening to you at work it's clear that you intend to keep harassing people like Banagher, which means I have to consider how we can protect ourselves from that kind of treatment.  Which means making these observations."

And then after a moment there's this lengthy pause as Banagher lays it out, and Leina...  there's something gentler in her tone, "Banagher is correct that I have worked with young women who were created to be weapons.  I won't tell you that you're like them.  I don't know enough about you to make that judgment.  The offer is simply there - but Banagher..."

Leina adds after a moment, "... I can only help someone who wants my help."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Yuliana Dispersal has posed.
<poem>

        "Tch," Yuliana clicks her tongue against her teeth, in a wordless sceptical noise, when Banagher says Leina is trying to ''help.''

        But -- nobody can beat the Uni... she hears ''that,'' at least, even though she has no reaction at all to the memory Banagher recalls. No recognition, no acknowledgement. Nothing.

        "I'll not hear you speak ill of my country," Yuliana insists, to Leina, when she talks about what trouble means in the REA. "Don't make incorrect assumptions." They're entirely correct assumptions, but never mind that.

        Of course, if Leina's in his ear, Banagher will hear the worst stories, she's sure. And so, she whispers, to him, while she's so close to his ear: "I've hurt too many." It's a heavy phrase, weary, as if with regret.

        Well, either way, it's true.

        She frowns, as Leina responds to her accusations. But it's ''Banagher's'' smile which jerks her attention to him, and she can't keep the hate from her eyes. "I'm not a ''victim!''" Yuliana yells, anger streaking into her labile expression. "''I don't need your pity!''"

        Hands all tight to fists, she yells, at the phone: "You're damn ''right'' I'm not like you!" ''You,'' not ''them.'' "There's nothing wrong with me! Nothing! And I DON'T need your HELP!" Her foot falls forward, as her hand swipes out, in a rough gesture --

        But Leina, she at least still has enough reasoning to remember, isn't playing her game.

        -- and so, growl ripping from her throat, with an anger which trembles more than she'd like it to, Yuliana turns sharply away. "Forget it!" She yells, as she runs away, and she isn't even foiled by the disrepair of the sidewalk.

        It's only once she's safe -- well, safely out of sight -- that she'll pull a bottle of pills from her pocket, and swallow too many of them, entirely dry. Damn it. She'll have to salvage the situation later... and look into that name.


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
<poem>

"Wounded gazelle act?" Banagher repeats, looking at Yuliana again. His brow furrows. Had any of this been real? He lets Leina go on, blinking at 'classified nature of your condition'. If even Leina didn't know what had happened to Yuliana, she must not be a Puru clone. That rules out one theory.

No luck with trying to project his memory. Banagher isn't just cut off from the world, then, the world is  as just as cut off from him.

"It's never too late." He offers, voice lowered to a whisper as well. "I understand--"

But before he can go on, Yuliana's entire countenance changes. So much anger and hate, all focused on him -- surely it would be overwhelming if he could sense it, but it's frightening enough to experience it physically. "Of course there's nothing wrong with you, I--!"

Stumbling away from Yuliana's swing, Banagher stumbles, falling once more. He looks up at the enraged woman, shocked. "Miss Dispersal!" Banagher cries after her, but there's no way she's coming back. "...she's gone, Leina."

As his senses return, Banagher sighs -- half in relief, and half in regret. "She's running away. I don't really... think I should try and chase her. She almost hit me." He pauses, getting to his feet. Staring after Yuliana, his voice is soft. "I... don't think she wants to be helped."

Banagher makes his way back to the bench. Leaving the phone call connected, he swipes back over to their gruop chat.

>Audrey, can you call?
>That was a lot just now.
>Let's figure it out all together.

"Thank you, Leina. If you hadn't been there, I can't imagine what would've happened. You've saved me again."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Leina Ashta has posed.
<poem>

"Right."

Is all Leina has to say of the REA being maligned.

(It was not.)

There is the BIGGEST eye roll over the insincerity in Yuliana's statement of how much hurt she's done.  Sure it may be accurate, but it's manipulating feelings in a certain way.

"From one actress to another - you really overplay your part."

When Yuliana starts to yell, Leina doesn't say anything.  Not one thing.  She's hit 'Record' on her phone long ago.

As she yells forget it, Leina replies so pleasantly.

"Have a pleasant vacation in Sweetwater Yuliana.  I hope you enjoy the Spacenoid hospitality."

Pause.

"Yeah.  No.  Don't.  This isn't the first time I've...  assessed whether she wants help."

There's this...  sigh over the radio, "She doesn't.  The REA has its hooks into her too deeply - but I suspect it's more than that.  It's likely that she was...  made what she is in a Cyber Newtype Lab, but don't ever say that to her." Pause, "It will go poorly for you."

Then there's a laugh, "Oh come on, all I did was throw a threat her way.  I'm sure you would have gotten out of that situation on your own...  I just...  expedited things."

Long.  Long.  Long.  Pause...

"Also seriously get off the streets now as she might be calling the REA to run a check on you.  That would be bad.  Double check that she didn't plant a tracker on you first."


</poem>
 <Pose Tracker> Banagher Links has posed.
<poem>

Banagher takes a moment to slump against the bench, closing his eyes. "Yeah. Give me just a second. That was -- kind of harrowing. How bad do you have to mess up making a Cyber-Newtype to end up with some kind of-- black hole?" He tugs his hood back over his head, looking at the false sky.

"No, I really think she would've... convinced me to tell her things, or taken me somewhere, or something." Banagher says. "If I see her again, I'm going to keep trying. But I don't think I'm going to try and find her."

Is that selfish? Banagher wonders, his heart sinking. Is he giving up on someone who needs him?

Shaking his head, the young man stands. "I'm on my way back to Nanai's place now. I'll just put everything I'm wearing in the wash. I'll get Audrey on the phone -- er, once I'm dressed again -- and we'll tell her what happened. I guess Miss Dispersal knows all of us now. I wonder if that'll be a problem..."
</poem>