Dayshift 62: Sun Room [Third Shift]

[avengingfists]

Last night had been a nightmare. That had to be what it was, but Ilia couldn't deny reality. In her anguish, Ilia had slept through the first half of the day plagued by nightmares. In her dreams she saw Rose's broken body all over again with Gamzee standing over her, his club raised to strike again. Somewhere, she could hear Martin Landel laughing.

Much like the battle last night, Ilia was overcome by her powerlessness. Was she really so useless? Why did it have to be the children who suffered pain and death? Why was she left alive here? She didn't wish for her own death, but if she could have given up her life to save Rose... But nothing could be done now

Ilia had failed to save an ally in need. If only her Captain could have been here, then just maybe his uncanny luck and drive might have saved them. He had a miraculous touch that could solve anything. Ilia now understood why she would never be on equal footing with him.

Miserably, Ilia roused herself at her nurse's insistence that she come eat. She didn't take a moment to brush her hair or wash her face. She just followed along as directed, trying to ignore the hallow feeling in her chest. Ilia wasn't hungry, but she took one of the bags offered to her and trudged to the bulletin. She addressed a few notes then added one herself. It wasn't the prettiest note, but Ilia couldn't produce the level of prose that Rose deserved. Instead, she wrote it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid. Short. To the point.

Her task done, Ilia found seat in the corner and sunk down into the cushion. Burying her face in her hands, she concentrated on breathing. She couldn't face the sun today.

[For her children Claude and Anise]

Comments

[scarefaux]

"Just a little," the Scarecrow replied. He'd been told Scar didn't like her because of what she was, though the former strawman wasn't entirely sure what she had been before her time at Landel's. He assumed a construct of some sort, given she'd said she was made, as he had been. Whatever Lust was and what Scar disliked about that, the fact that they didn't get along had saddened her. That much was clear.

And that made this conversation a delicate walk, indeed. "She said you were a good man," he continued, leaving out the part about how they didn't get along so well.

[envy_the_sinners]

"Did she?" Scar made a noise that was something akin to a laugh. The Ishbalan would never understand where she got that notion. He was a petty murderer, and not much, if anything, else. A man fueled on rage and regret did not make for a good one.

"That is quite far from the truth. I have tried to convince her otherwise, but she is adamantly stubborn," he grumbled, as if Scar had any right to call another person stubborn. More and more, Scar regretted letting Lust see him at his lowest like he had. She was letting the things he said prior to his death get in the way of everything else: He was a serial killer and a mass murderer, who's life was nothing but a chain of failures all piled up until it had finally killed him.

[scarefaux]

[Sorry this is so late!]

Wait, was he saying he wasn't a good person? That seemed odd, as it really wasn't a claim most would make.

Then again, perhaps it was simply something Scar couldn't see about himself. After all, the Scarecrow had been told that while he was the wisest in Oz for his superior brains, he'd never truly needed them at all, having handled himself just fine with no more brains than anyone else. And while there were times he still wasn't sure he believed that, he could see what the Wizard and Dorothy had meant. The Tin Man, despite his lack of a heart, had more concern for others than anyone in the world. And Lion, courage or not, was brave when he needed to be, and that was the most important part.

Of course, all three of them had still wanted some tangible proof of their new-found abilities in thinking, love, and courage. Perhaps there was one out there for goodness, too.

"Oh, I'm sure you're a better person than you know, and you just can't see it," the Scarecrow insisted.

[envy_the_sinners]

[No problem! :)]

Scar swallowed. If this man was anything like how Lust had made him out to be, he certainly was not the cynical type. He returned to watching the floor, not really wanting to make eye contact.

"No, you're not 'sure' of anything." The words were not angry. He certainly had not snapped at Frank. The older man just did not understand. "If you had known me back where I come from, you would agree."

[scarefaux]

The Scarecrow's brow knitted together as he shook his head. "Oh no, I'm quite sure. I'm not the best with knowing things, but I know it's hard for most people to see the best quality in themselves, especially if they don't believe it to be true."

He nodded, sincerely believing those words. And besides that, Lust had assure him this man was good. He may not have agreed with what she was, but there had to be kindness under there somewhere, or she wouldn't have said anything at all.

[envy_the_sinners]

"You are only judging me on Lust's words. And her ideas of what I am and what I am not are... warped." Especially if she really remembered everything that she claimed.

But Scar knew (what he thought was) the truth. There was no honor in a murderer. That was all that needed to be said. There was no excuse for the things he had done. Either way, Frank's presence was calming. It was a welcome relief from all the doom-and-gloom of Scar's usual company, even though the other man was clearly quite naive.

But there was certainly something about this man. Something that could draw the words out of Scar like nobody else but Lust could. What Scar did not realize was that Frank was quite right. Despite his weaknesses and poor choices and mindless revenge, the Alchemist Killer, deep down, did not have the heart of a killer. In many ways, he was still just a lost child with a spirit more noble and brave than he could ever know.