cartesianism | AFTER-ICE-CREAM-PARTY

AFTER-ICE-CREAM-PARTY

[Boy everyone is so bloodthirsty tonight. And now a kid is dead and another is gonna execute. Do y'all need some baskin robbins, because it seems like you do!!! So before everyone can leave, Niwatori raises her voice louder than it's gone before now to draw a little attention, and then deflates immediately when she actually gets it.]

Excuse me, please! U-um... this case was really hard, and I think we could all use some time to cool our heads before we finally go back. So... ice cream? Who's with me?

[she'll lead the pack there and anyone else can go home or to visit Clarisse on the set of Orange is the new Black.

Niwa's not that good of a host though, she just gets her own ice cream and lets everyone serve themselves. Who is she to limit your freedom. (Someone who doesn't want to be partly responsible for a Millium Monstrosity, that's who.)]

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[You could not be alone right now.

She had called out for Lady Eremiya, there in that blizzard once she'd been struck down and left to die. Reese came instead, and Reese held her all the way back to the hideout, and even after Clarisse told her to leave Reese came back and held her hand and called her sister when bleeding out made her colder than the snow and wind did out in the mountains.

Her shoulders draw up and her fingers curl tighter into her arms, and in some desperate, futile bid to stabilize herself, she closes her eyes for one long, silent moment.

She'll die alone this time.]

I've always been alone.

[For all that she tries, she cannot keep her voice steady.]

...You didn't have to be.

[And that's the biggest tragedy of all, for her.]

Everyone here is way too nice. If you just weren't... You didn't have to be.

If I just wasn't.

[Said flatly without the emptiness, almost annoyed. She makes a short, harsh noise that could almost be a laugh but for the way her expression twists into a hard, ugly scowl that she struggles to contain. Do you ever stop? Your—This? Everything? What a stupid sentiment, that she would ever be anyone or anything else, that it would make a difference.]

But I am. ...Heh. Was.

Of course I did.

[There's a short pause, then, far gentler than she's used to:]

But you don't have to be right now. I can - I'm here. I can listen.

...

I don't understand you. [A quiet breath that wishes it could sound as harsh as the last, and Clarisse closes her eyes again.] We're strangers. I've been nothing but nasty to you and everyone else. You cared about that kid I killed. This is just—just some ploy for answers, isn't it, where you pretend to be nice and friendly to, to get whatever stupid curiosity you've got about all this satisfied...?

You can think that if you want.

[But she shifts, actually sitting so she can lean against the bars. Her eyes don't leave Clarisse.]

But that's not why I'm saying this. I just... I don't know. I think I get it, at least a little. That's why I wanted to know if I was right.

What makes you think you'd get it at all?

[She tries for vicious, tries for condescending, but that emptiness swallows up her tone and she can't manage anything else but how desperately she wants some reason, for—for—and she cannot decide if she wants to confirm her own twisted logic of give-and-take, that no one would ever have any true kindness to offer her, or if it would be better to give her answers, to be wrong, but not alone.]

[She takes a moment. This is hard to vocalize, still too raw to put to words, and even if they're reaching some common ground... She doesn't want Clarisse to hear her voice break here.]

Because... There have been people who I pinned everything on, too. People who I thought, like, if I can make sure they care about me, everything else is fine. It's kind of similar for you, right?

...

Lady Eremiya brought us all up from the dirt. Nothing matters but serving her, earning her praise.

[So, like, yes, but—Natalie says it like a thought, a belief, but to Clarisse, these are facts, all she's ever known. This is the way of things, that no one matters more than Lady Eremiya, nothing more than all she does.]

It's not...pinning. It's what our circumstances are.

And what did she bring you up to do? To kill people, to only follow her orders?

[There's... She's not sure if it's pity or sympathy, but it strikes at her regardless. Is there a point to her saying this? She isn't certain, even as she continues.]

It's not right, even if it seems like it.

You don't get it.

[This is as close to mad as Clarisse can manage, even though her voice still comes so weak, but she actually, finally turns her head Natalie, even though she stares past, more than at her.]

She could have left us all to die where she found us. She didn't. We were taken care of, we were trained and taught and made strong. We were made into something. Following her orders is an honor.

...Right.

[And that's what she knew would happen, of course, but - she can't deny the sting of it.]

But... Is that why you did it? To get back to her? Whatever the answer is, it doesn't mean you'll... [No, actually—] It doesn't mean I'll leave you alone.

...

[That's it, then, isn't it? In the end, she just doesn't want to be alone. She's longed for that warmth and gentleness and praise, those smiles and fond touches remembered somewhere she can't reach, and this is the closest she'll ever get to it now, an evening before she goes back to the dirt Eremiya took her from.

Natalie was right: Clarisse has nothing to lose, now; they have all seen her weakness, she can't even deny it to herself anymore. Not after another failure. But if talking keeps Natalie here a little longer, keeps Clarisse from sitting cold and alone with her own thoughts and faults... Can't she tell herself she's just playing along?

She turns away again. Instead of staring out into nothing, Clarisse's eyes lower towards the floor.]

I failed her once already. ...If I did this right, I thought she'd take me back.

...That isn't how it works. Being perfect, or - trying to measure up to someone's expectations, it only works if they were ever going to care about you in the first place. But - she was just using you.

[She sounds sincere as she says it, as if she's honestly trying to reach the older girl somehow.]

You don't know what you're talking about!

[She turns to Natalie, unfolds her arms, but there's nothing for her to hit so they end up held up almost like she means to strike. The bars keep her from Natalie, though (she thinks of hitting her, of course she does, all she knows is violence, but somehow the thought just makes her stomach turn worse), and she doesn't stand, so nothing could come of it if she had a target.]

It's only natural that the weak die and get left behind. That's the way of things, always. Lady Eremiya gave us a chance despite our uselessness and we gave our service in exchange—it's, it's only natural she'd dispose of me for falling short! Why keep anything useless around? But if I could prove I could still be of use for her, that I'm still...I was still worth something...!

[Of course she was being used. What's the value in anything if it isn't useful? A person disposes of useless things, and why not useless people? But she can't accept that it was wrong of Eremiya, that she was just being used, that she ever offered care or praise insincerely.]

...You're not useless even if you fail.

[It's simple, but after listening to that, it's all she can think to say. She looks... Upset is the closest to this emotion, but it's hard to make out anything more detailed than that. Unthinking, she shifts to wrap a hand around one of the bars.]

I'm - sorry nobody told you that.

Stop it.

[All this tenderness makes it worse, this little gesture of closeness, that awful sadness in Natalie's expression. Reese stayed with her, but she'd never struck Reese. They knew each other all their lives. They had no one else. If she shouts or jeers now—What if Natalie leaves her?

She's lost too much to deny her own weakness anymore. That, too, makes her want to vomit.

With a shaky breath, she finally adjusts; she doesn't stand, but she turns to face the bars fully, crossing her legs. The movement shakes hair in her poor braid out of place. She quiets down again, but it takes effort enough to make her breathing shake.]

If a knife breaks, you get a new one. If an arrow snaps, you throw it out. If something doesn't perform its duty properly, you find something that can.

That's just...how it is. I'm of no use to Lady Eremiya anymore. I've proved it. That's...that's all.

Knives and arrows don't feel, and they can't improve like a person can. So, if a person makes a mistake... It's not the same thing. They can do good again.

['They can start doing good', she almost thinks to say, but that seems to cruel to say given Clarisse's position - and her future.]

Feelings are useless weakness. They get in the way and bog you down. And people don't change. Give them all the help in the world, but if they muck it up when it matters, it's their fault the work didn't stick. You give someone a second chance and you'll just watch them botch that, too.

[But here she doesn't mean to argue, only explain; don't you realize what you're looking at, what's happened here? That this is her, that she is proof of all of it.]

[There's a long moment, a barely perceptible exhale, as her hands loosens on the metal bar. Her arm doesn't return to her side, though; it meets with the other arm to cross in front of her. She tries to make her expression neutral, firm, but there's that same undercurrent of distress.

It's too late. She should have known.]

Do you - want to get some sleep, or do you want company?

...

[Natalie is wrong, start to finish, all the way through—except when she had said Clarisse doesn't have to be alone. Doesn't, not didn't; people don't change and neither does she, there was never a world where these idiots would have accepted her. But Natalie had offered to stay. Whatever the answer is, it doesn't mean I'll leave you alone.

She'd only called out to Reese as she was leaving. Reese could have kept going, and who could blame her? Worse yet, she could have not heard. Then, Clarisse already lost too much blood to even stand on her own, and even the hideout had become colder than the storming outside, and she still told Reese to leave. But now, with hours to bide until the spectacle of her death, no countdown or feeling towards her end, only her own awful thoughts in this unfamiliar place...

She can't look at Natalie's face. Her voice comes weak again.]

Do...do what you want.

[Even now, she can't find weakness (maybe strength) enough to admit she wants her to stay.]

...Okay. I'll do that I want.

[It's not hard for her to interpret that; in more ways than one, they're a little bit alike. She takes a seat, leaning against the bars and glancing towards Clarisse. There's a silence for a few moments, too uneasy for her liking, so she clings to the first thought she has that might break it.]

You wanna hear a story, or anything?

[Oh.

Clarisse breathes out, ashamed at her own relief. It all feels so pathetic, this longing and warmth and fear. Her weakness has already been on full display now, though. More careful than she needs to be about making sure they don't touch, she moves to sit parallel to her cell door, shoulder leaning against the bars so she can face Natalie.

She doesn't understand. This time last week, that infuriated her.]

Sure. If you have one, I guess.

It's called The Snow Queen. Hans Christian Andersen. You ever heard it?

Doesn't ring a bell at all.

[a hilarious pick from the person Clarisse spent the most time discussing assassinating royalty with]

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