sixthiterationlogs | The world can be cruel sometimes

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The world can be cruel sometimes

WHO: Ashley Magnus
WHERE: Somewhere semi private
WHEN: The 22nd
OPEN TO: Druitt
WARNINGS: Talk of death and murder likely

The buzz of the device makes Ashley jump though she's half asleep on the couch, just waiting and hoping that Ty will come through the door. Or, as she's hoping then, that he'll contact her somehow.

Except it's not Ty. It's a video of Helen Magnus, sprawled out on a concrete floor in front of the viewer. Instantly Ashley's chest tightens, seeing the pain on her mother's face, the emotions that are things that she's rarely ever seen from her mother. Armed as she is, cornered by whoever is watching and yet not using the massive weapon she holds against them.

The video doesn't last long, but it's enough. Enough for Ashley's blood to run cold.

Do you remember when you were small? You used to come into my room in the middle of the night. You'd crawl into my arms and you'd say, "Mummy, I'm afraid."

Ashley watches as her mother sets aside the weapon, openly crying.

Ashley, I'm afraid.

Tears spring instantly to Ashley's eyes, at first trying to rip the device from her arm. The video begins to loop.

Do you remember when...

She shuts it off, not realizing the tears that sting her eyes are sliding down her cheeks. What had happened? How could her mother lay there before... Her? Laying there before Ashley and talking about being afraid?

Before this Ashley has been barely holding herself together, trying to cope with Ty leaving, taken, and not having this man there with her who is one of the few people in her life she's felt that close to. Now this.

Scrubbing at her eyes with the heels of her hands, Ashley knows there's only one person she can talk to. Even if she's not sure how this could go, what might happen, she has to know what she did to her mother.

Grabbing her coat, she headed out and for the inn, hoping finding Druitt won't be that hard.

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As it turns out, Ashley's lucky. Druitt is at the Inn, as opposed to taking one of his semi-regular wanderings around the village. Better still, once she arrives, he doesn't seem to be doing anything that couldn't be interrupted. Admittedly he also doesn't have any idea what's on her mind, but he does at the very least spot her when she comes in, and if he doesn't make any immediate attempt to make his way over, that's mostly only due to the fact that he figures that she's simply visiting the Inn to visit the Inn.

This does, of course, pretty swiftly reveal itself to not be the case, as she heads straight towards him, but even then he simply waits until she makes her way over, offering a raised eyebrow as she does so. He might be a little bit curious, certainly, but if she's seeking him out, the odds are good there's some sort of reasoning behind it and he can wait a moment or three to see what it is besides. Especially when he knows she might very well find that very reaction to be slightly disconcerting. Or at least, that's his intention, right up until she draws close enough for him to catch her expression and a flicker of something almost like concern crosses his face.

(Which is quite possibly more concerning than the stoic silence.)

"You've been upset."

For all that it's said as a statement of fact, there's just enough of a questioning tone lurking under the surface to suggest that he's curious as to just what might have brought her to that state.

Edited 2018-12-31 03:03 (UTC)

She isn't entirely avoiding Druitt, but confronting him isn't easy for her either. Except in this she knows that there's no one else that can help her. No one else that would have the answers.

And that's hoping he has them.

"Yeah well... I've got reasons to be," she says, feeling weak that she is on the verge of tears. "Listen, did you get a video on your device this morning?"

Even as he asks him, she gives a jerk of her head, already moving to try and get out of the main flow of traffic, away from others, anywhere that she can show him this in case he didn't get it.

For all that he hadn't been aware that there'd been anything going on with regards to the devices, the fact that she's come to him is unusual enough that it stands out. Especially when the majority of their previous encounters have been ones that he's initiated.

"I haven't been looking." He usually doesn't, to be honest. The device exists, yes. But it's not something that he's usually terribly inclined to bother with much. "I take it you did?"

It's a simple guess, and rather than push further about the fact that she's been crying, he simply offers a brief nod in answer to the jerk of her head. The main room might not offer the most privacy - and he doubts she'd be willing to come back to the room he considers his - but there are certainly more out of the way corners. If the conversation she's looking to have is such that she'd prefer one of those, he figures it's not any particular hardship.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should," she says, pushing her arm out in front of his face and pushing the button. No small talk. Not trusting herself to talk without tears, and not wanting to appear weak.

The video isn't long, but it's enough. Helen, on the ground, pleading with Ashley. She doesn't look as she lets it run once, then a second time before jerking her arm back, jabbing at it until it stops, until her mother's pleading stops.

"What did I do?"

Not doubting she had done something, that it's real, that she had given in to instincts that she denied and quelled for so long. Just needing to know that she didn't hurt her mother.

He doesn't know what to expect, when Ashley shoves her arm in front of his face. It's only once the video starts that he realizes what she's seen. What's had her so upset, and even despite not having been personally present for that particular exchange it hurts to see Helen so broken. Enough so that it shows in his expression, which ... softens, almost, in a way she likely hasn't seen from him before.

But she's asked for answers, and even if this is a conversation he'd been trying to avoid, he does have them.

"It not what you did. It's what you were. What you'd been made into."

A trace of anger creeps into his voice, at that last, but it's a quiet anger. One aimed elsewhere instead of at her; there's a brief moment's pause and by the time he speaks again it's been tucked carefully out of sight again.

"What's the last thing you remember, before being brought here? And before you say anything, yes, that is relevant."

It'll still take him a bit to get around to the heart of the matter, but he's making an effort to be more direct than he usually is, at the very least.

None of the words he's speaking, ones that might be to help her cope with this, are really doing much to help the bile rising in her throat, and the anger and nervous coursing through her veins. Some part of her, deep down but knowing that it isn't possible, wanted him to scoff at this, to chastise her for falling for an obvious ploy, for obvious lies.

Except it wasn't lies, and she didn't fall for it. Not the video, at least.

"I don't remember my mother begging me to apparently stop,' she snaps, though as with him, it's not at him but because of how she's feeling.

She swallows hard though, biting back that pain. "A warehouse, with Henry, and finding us surrounded by the Cabal. I was stupid," she admits, tones cold and bitter. "And now ... Do you know what happened to Henry?"

It's very much not lies. It's just a tiny fragment of something more, yes. But it's very much something that's happened and he's not about to pretend otherwise. Even if he wishes that this hadn't come up the way that it has.

"He's fine. Or will be, if you prefer to see it that way."

The events she's just seen might be his past, yes. But figures the least he can do is acknowledge the fact that they're still in the future for her. A fair bit into the future, if his guess is right, yes. But still the future, even if it's something he's not sure either of them have the power to change. (And this, at least, he might consider changing. He doesn't regret his part in the destruction of the Cabal, but at the same time he knows very well how badly Ashley's death had hit Helen.)

"And for what it might be worth, you do both manage to escape. But not before the Cabal managed to get their claws into you. Changed you, though we didn't realize then. You returned... only to steal away the one thing we were counting on to solve the Cabal's twisted plague. The Source Blood itself."

She gave him a look, not buying that in the least. At least in a way. She isn't sure what it is about this place, or how it works, but if and when she disappears from the village, she doesn't believe she goes home. Now more than ever. If the visions are real, and if Druitt knows of a life beyond what she remembers, then there is no life to return to. It's not as if they're waiting for her, or it hasn't happened. Maybe those with theories about clones are right, but that means Henry is as well as is when Druitt last saw him. A time after Ashley remembers. A time after she's already died.

Her expression grows dark for a moment, flushed and then she pales, hands tightening to fists at her side. Whatever answer she was hoping for, praying to Gods she didn't believe in for, this is not the it.

"I wouldn't. I..." She shakes her head against, tiny, barely there shakes of her head. "What did I..." Biting back the words, not sure she wants to know, and hating that she's showing this weakness. Especially to him. "I assume my mother fixed things then. Even with me doing that."

The words are tight, spoken almost painfully as she focuses on what matters in that moment.

He's not asking for belief. Not entirely. He knows that what he's saying is going to be hard to swallow, given that she is still herself. That she doesn't remember anything of how the Cabal had chosen to alter her; had used her against the very Sanctuary itself. Admittedly, he's also not sure if she would given how thoroughly they'd sunk their claws into her, to say nothing of the fact that she hadn't much seemed to remember anything of her life with the Sanctuary, once the Cabal had finished with her. But he figures she's seen enough of that as it is, and the rest of the explanation isn't going to be any easier besides.

"We found a cure. Not as easily as we might have otherwise. But we did find one."

This doesn't mean that everything was so easy to fix. Especially with the Cabal having very nearly all they'd been looking for besides. But most of the rest of that aspect has comparatively little to do with Ashley. If she particularly cares to know about the finer details of the Cabal's attempts on the Sanctuary network, he's willing to explain. But at the same time, he won't blame her for not wanting to look too hard at something that does involve her death.

Ashley's first thoughts the moment she woke up in the fountain, struggling for the surface is that she was going to die. Surfacing and finding Henry gone? Hadn't made those thoughts any better. She'd let those fears go shortly after arriving here, though through talks with others, she's beginning to wonder.

Especially with the truth about Desmond and Lucy.

"Okay," she says, giving a nod. "I'm going to prompt with but, because you're reticent at the best of times, and now you're positively glacial. Just... rip off the damn band aid," she says, steeling herself for that which a person really can't prepare for. "Okay? Just tell me."

There's worse things than being dead. Like having taken her mother with her. That is the fear she's holding. Will. Henry. The whole damn Sanctuary. All of that is worse than dying.

Druitt can absolutely confirm that the Observers have the ability to pull people from what would have been their deaths. It's not a comforting thing to have confirmed, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it's still something he can confirm. Not to mention the fact that in at least one case the Observers had been willing to grant someone a younger body than the one they'd died in, or so he'd been led to believe from that particular conversation. But neither of those are particularly relevant to the topic at hand.

Instead, he offers a half-incline of his head at Ashley's comment before diving straight into what she's asked for.

"The Cabal used your altered genetics as a blueprint. You and five others, all with the same abilities, plus your ... unique knowledge of the Sanctuary systems. That's what they pitted against the whole of the Sanctuary network. And Sanctuaries did fall. It wasn't until they attacked the London Sanctuary that we were able to successfully repel one of their attacks, and even that wasn't without cost."

A pause, just long enough for that much to sink in, before he continues.

"What you saw? That was the final moments of the fight for Old City. After the partial success of London, Tesla managed to come up with a weapon that could stop the Cabal's soldiers. That's what was sitting next to Helen, in what you saw."

Not that she'd managed to bring herself to use it, but he figures Ashley has guessed as much.

"You didn't kill her. You came back to yourself, at the end. Just long enough to teleport the last of the Cabal's soldiers into the EM shield at full strength, saving your mother in the process."

And with the most likely candidate for what kind of teleportation the Cabal had managed to pull out her genes being his... he figures he doesn't need to say what that would have meant for her.

Edited 2019-02-16 06:06 (UTC)

"Five others..." She whispers those words, frowning as she considers that, focusing on the parts that are emotionally easier. Not the ones about how she was at fault, that literally the very fiber of her being allowed this to happen. That and her life in a place that she had loved, and set up to be destroyed.

her entire body trembled in that moment, desperate to find her voice but being quite unable to as she shakes head head enough her ponytail sways. Her lip quivers, taking a step back. She's known it was the truth and yet knowing that and facing it is not the same. And not because of her death. That she has been prepared for since she was young. This though...

"Because of me," she says, eyes closing. She's killed many, but never anyone or anything she never meant to be dead. "How many were lost? Sanctuaries and people. Do you know?"

Because she will bear this guilt, but she needs to know for what. More though for whom.

"For the first? Tokyo, Moscow, Beijing, Delhi. We held the Cabal's soldiers off at London, but at a cost. The others were nearly destroyed, although some of the people survived." A pause. "And of course, Old City, and that saw no casualties."

It's not a comforting answer. Not any more than his previous had been. But even if he hadn't been inclined to tell the unvarnished truth, it wouldn't have been. The topic they're covering is one that can't be made comforting. Only laid out as it is, and if it takes her a while yet to fully come to terms with what she'll one day be forced into doing, that's more than understandable.

"The Cabal, meanwhile, no longer exist as a functional organization."

There's a gleam of something darker in his eyes at that. Enough to suggest that he might very well have had a hand in that, and that he doesn't regret it in the least.

It isn't as if Ashley hasn't been responsible for deaths before. Deaths of those that posed a bigger threat to others. Deaths that they had been left with no choice but to enact, for the greater good. Yet had those that turned her into this, used her this way, not thought they too were working for some greater good?

Her lips rolled inward, caught between her teeth and biting down hard as she fought to cope with the horrific reality of this. It's one thing having her fears of being already dead confirmed. There is something else entirely to learn about the destruction you personally caused against everything that was important to you and your family.

"I don't know what..."

She isn't even sure the words, letting them just stop as she draws a deep breath and sighs it out slowly. Trying to focus on the parts where her mother is alive, where they finished off those that had caused this.

"Thank you for telling me." She hadn't even thought there was a possibility he wouldn't tell her, but she knows he didn't have to. "And thank you for taking care of them," she adds, knowing that angry and hurt as her mother might have been, she wouldn't have been the one to do so. "I..."

Again she can't find the words, hating the cold hollowness in her chest that came with still trying to not think about the number of lives she's taken.

It's not unreasonable that she doesn't know what to make of what she's just heard. After all, he can't imagine it's an easy thing to hear, much less to have laid out so plainly, to say nothing of how she became aware of the fact in the first place. But he's willing to give her a moment, if that's what she needs to get her thoughts in order.

"It was... necessary." Important to him, for more reasons than the simple fact that the war would never have been over if he hadn't. "They'd been allowed free reign for far too long."

And, as Ashley is well aware, Helen would never have been the one to do it. Nor would she have liked tolerated him doing so either, if it hadn't been for the very personal losses she'd suffered during that final battle. But she hadn't stopped him, despite having had ample reason to do so, and that's all that matters as far as he's concerned. He's not entirely convinced it was enough, some days. But it's as much as he'd been able to without finding new targets for his anger, and if it's come with a few side effects besides, those aren't something he's going to mention, either.

"Necessary."

She repeats the word but there's a hint of a laugh to it. Nothing humorous, not in the least, and given the tight, barely there control over her features, it's obvious it isn't even something she likely expects herself. Desperately trying to reign in her emotions, to not put either of them into a place of that kind of uncertainty that might come with her breaking down over this knowledge.

It's not even the death though that leaves her eyes stinging. It's Helen. It's knowing what her mother went through to have her, and then to have their time cut short like that. It's wanting to know more. Needing to know.

"Tell me it was because of more than necessity," she whispers, needing to know it was more. Not just for her own sake, from him, but for her mother's.

"Yes."

The answer come all but immediately, the flare of tight (remembered) anger in his expression very nearly saying everything that he doesn't. That it had been more than just necessary. That it hadn't been simply about the fact that the Cabal had gone unchecked for too long. It had certainly not hurt any, but it had been about pain. About revenge, and loss, and the sudden and immediate need to strike out at those who had dared to hurt someone who had been his.

Even if Ashley had never really done more than offer the barest of acknowledgements of that fact. Even if he'd absolutely deserved any of the number of things she'd accused him of. She'd still been his, by blood alone, and that had been enough. And so blood had answered blood, until there'd been nothing left of the Cabal.

"It was."

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The world can be cruel sometimes

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