[Confirmation of her being uninjured seems to ease a little bit of the stiffness adorning his shoulders. Lines gone less harsh, barely perceptible.]
That’s… kind of you, Lucina.
[Maybe he would like to, maybe he needs to, but that would be unravelling insecurities about himself that he’s not sure he wants to lay at anyone’s feet. He can barely contain them when they land upon his own.
And yet-]
I think I’m still trying to process what happened. Where we went wrong. Why we failed.
To understand that, we need to understand the events that led up to... [ Akvos being lost.
More quietly, she admits - ] I'm afraid I do not.
[ The queen, the king, the princess... it was positively Fire Emblemian and still, so much of it went over her head. How not? Her education in genealogy, strategy, diplomacy hadn't survived the abrupt end of her childhood. Connor, she realises, is far more the sort they need right now.
A bit too tired to keep standing unnecessarily, she gestures toward a convenient bench that's (conveniently!) near by. ]
... perhaps we threw our lot in with the wrong person.
[He prefers to keep moving, even if by way of being an android means that he can stand still with the best of them. But ever wanting to be doing something — especially in the wake of failure, as if perpetual movement will drag him further away from the experience — Connor is quick to agree to this walk. Towards the beach they’ll go, footsteps even.]
How do you mean? The Queen herself? The Princess? Or that we shouldn’t have attempted to negotiate?
[ As they walk to the beach, or the bench, or wherever, Lucina thinks through what he's just suggested. At the time, she had assumed that the politics of it were beyond her capability - had focused on the ground level, serving those whose lives were disrupted in the infighting. In the end, no one had been helped. The ice-cold blackness of where Akvos used to be still feels like a frost sered into her skin.
Maybe Connor is expecting a concrete answer from her. If that's so, she has none to give, and it still galls. Sighing a little, she plays at the diagonal sash of her swordbelt. ]
I believed the so-called king's claim was fallacious. Perhaps he, and not the princess, was the key to it all.
It's possible. In hindsight, any option we didn't explore seems more plausible, especially now that we know the route we've taken only lends itself to failure.
[But that's the problem with hindsight, isn't it? It's clear, registering at 20/20, but there's no going back and changing what's already been done. What ifs do them so little good right now.
An easy walk to the beach/bench has Connor fidgeting still with his tie.]
But I suppose it doesn't matter now. Failure is failure, and we must accept the consequences of that. I had thought- [He pauses in his words, reconsidering.]
May I ask you a question? [This time he doesn't even wait for the answer to that.] Do you feel... comfortable, as a member of the Circle?
[ He may find comfort in the fact that what's done is done, but it isn't that simple for Lucina. Once - a very fateful once - she was given the ability to change the past. To have that door so firmly closed now? It's tempting to bang on it until her fists break and bleed, and then keep striking. How could Naga have this power and Astoria not? Does she care so little?
Connor has the keys to unlock these thoughts, if he knows how to use them. She's almost revealed the implausible truth of her travels to him in the past, after all. Hopefully he's forgotten. (He probably hasn't.)
She looks over when he poses his question. Questions. Both of them. ]
... sometimes, yes. I would not be a very good soldier if I were not adaptable. I can be useful here. There's comfort to be found in that.
[ Other times, though - ] However, there are also times when I feel very - behind. [ and ] Ignorant.
[The reality is that he doesn't take comfort in the fact that their failures are behind him; it's simply what he tells himself to keep looking forward, to keep pressing on. But it leaves its mark across his mind, indelible, as if failures will forever define him more than successes.
Thanks for that, Amanda.]
You shouldn't feel that way, Lucina. There might be things you don't know, but you're quick to adapt and learn. You're level-headed when it counts. And none of us here are completely prepared for what the next day might bring us -- much less the next mission.
So please, don't feel ignorant. I... wish things had turned out differently. I do not like feeling as if I've 'come up short', as it were, or have failed. It goes against what I am.
[A beat.]
But, I suppose, we can only do better in the future.
[If only he could feel good about simply moving on.]
[ She may consign herself to the ground, fussing over scars, but his words touch on an insecurity that she hasn't gotten around to voicing to anyone. Ignorant is a small, defensible word for a larger issue - that she knows so much less than everyone else, that her world is small and novel, that all her good intentions can't make up for the fact she simply isn't all that clever. He explains to her, quite clearly, why that's wrong.
By now, she knows that Connor isn't someone to hand out false flattery. If it isn't the truth to him, he has no time for it.
And then there are the words he uses. Words that, in the past, she's specifically pointed out his avoidance of. Wish. Feel. It passes by so fluidly that she almost doesn't notice, giving herself a slight case of mental whiplash as her mind hooks onto those words long after they're spoken. ]
If we spend too much time commiserating on our failure, we may forget to pay attention on those who need us now, or will in the future. [ Essentially, she agrees with him, finding comfort in his unthinking human behaviour. ]
[Words that describe feeling — or the state of possessing them — slip through more and more often. It’s especially difficult for him to knowingly avoid them, still swimming in the wake of a failure that has the whole of the Circle reacting to it in ways to help them cope. Everyday he’s unravelling by small degrees, and everyday he tries to desperately gather up the thread to keep him whole — keep himself a machine, unbroken, adhering to his initial design.
Yet today? The images of a crumbling city, a world cracking under the pressure of their shortcomings, makes him not even want to bother. Only cling to the hopeful words he can manage to spout, and her agreement to them. There’s balance there to be found, if they can both believe in it.]
Exactly. It’s easy for our focus to be compromised for now — and understandable, too — but let’s not allow it to affect us for too long. I don’t want to resign myself to more failures just because I’ve experienced one.
[At her question, though, he pauses briefly.]
I’ve spoken to Hank. He isn’t taking it well. That’s… unsurprising to me.
She doesn't bat an eyelash at the quiet revelation that Connor and Hank come from the same place, but it does make her reflect slightly. If she ever has to choose between Hank's frenetic, talkative anger and Connor's polite, unerring calculations - well, it isn't difficult. She'd choose Connor every time.
Hank, she thinks, would have made a terrible soldier. She certainly wouldn't have trusted him to be near Chrom! ]
I hope he can find some solid ground before we are sent on our next mission.
[ There's more she has to say - maybe, a story about just one failure - but not yet. Let's see how they weather this, first. ]
[But the subject of Hank causes a long pause to settle between them as Connor finds himself caught between two stances. The first being the want to defend the Lieutenant, to tell her that he’s a good man tossed into circumstances otherwise difficult for most people to parse, much less accept in a short period of time. The other half is inclined to agree, memories of being dismissed and patronized muddying the waters.
He settles on something in-between.]
I assume you’ve spoken with him enough that he's given you this impression. Hank is… he has a lot of personal issues, ones that he has trouble dealing with in normal circumstances. Departed from home, his methods of coping have only worsened.
[ The way Connor describes it, it's difficult not to sympathise. Lucina is in much the same boat as the Hank he describes, even if her personal experience of the man has only borne friction, awkwardness, a vulgar-edged misery.
It doesn't change the fact that, right now, she wouldn't trust Hank to have her back.
... nor Connor's, if it came down to it. (But that's not up to her, is it?) ]
[The answer should be straightforward. Somewhat telling, then, how Connor gives yet another pause, parsing his reply.]
Like I said, reasoning with him is difficult. Which makes cooperation with him doubly so. I had tried to work with him again, as partners, like we were back in Detroit. But our failure on Akvos has just made him see it all as a useless endeavor.
[Hands curl into loose fists at his side, then relax again.]
Maybe I've miscalculated. Maybe my expectations are too high.
[ Thinking about it clinically, if Hank doesn't want to be Connor's partner and is wilfully refusing to cooperate, then there's no reason to pursue that sort of working relationship. However, Lucina knows it is never that simple when it comes to a loyal heart. ]
It can be quite difficult to change someone's mind once they're so set.
[ Hank sounds like quite a weak man, so ready to succumb to despair and give up trying. It's a condemning perspective based on limited interaction. She thinks it, doesn't say it. ]
I've said this before, but you are not without allies here, Connor. Friends. We failed, but - what's important now are the lessons we learn from it. We cannot do anything more for Akvos but we can keep what we have learned with us and take it to the next world. [ From how easily these words come out, it almost feels like a script she's memorised, or a mantra she's repeated to herself over and over. That doesn't mean they lack any especial humanity, however. Lucina couldn't be disingenuous if she tried. ] - I told you somewhat of my home, yes?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
That’s… kind of you, Lucina.
[Maybe he would like to, maybe he needs to, but that would be unravelling insecurities about himself that he’s not sure he wants to lay at anyone’s feet. He can barely contain them when they land upon his own.
And yet-]
I think I’m still trying to process what happened. Where we went wrong. Why we failed.
no subject
More quietly, she admits - ] I'm afraid I do not.
[ The queen, the king, the princess... it was positively Fire Emblemian and still, so much of it went over her head. How not? Her education in genealogy, strategy, diplomacy hadn't survived the abrupt end of her childhood. Connor, she realises, is far more the sort they need right now.
A bit too tired to keep standing unnecessarily, she gestures toward a convenient bench that's (conveniently!) near by. ]
... perhaps we threw our lot in with the wrong person.
no subject
How do you mean? The Queen herself? The Princess? Or that we shouldn’t have attempted to negotiate?
no subject
[ As they walk to the beach, or the bench, or wherever, Lucina thinks through what he's just suggested. At the time, she had assumed that the politics of it were beyond her capability - had focused on the ground level, serving those whose lives were disrupted in the infighting. In the end, no one had been helped. The ice-cold blackness of where Akvos used to be still feels like a frost sered into her skin.
Maybe Connor is expecting a concrete answer from her. If that's so, she has none to give, and it still galls. Sighing a little, she plays at the diagonal sash of her swordbelt. ]
I believed the so-called king's claim was fallacious. Perhaps he, and not the princess, was the key to it all.
no subject
[But that's the problem with hindsight, isn't it? It's clear, registering at 20/20, but there's no going back and changing what's already been done. What ifs do them so little good right now.
An easy walk to the beach/bench has Connor fidgeting still with his tie.]
But I suppose it doesn't matter now. Failure is failure, and we must accept the consequences of that. I had thought- [He pauses in his words, reconsidering.]
May I ask you a question? [This time he doesn't even wait for the answer to that.] Do you feel... comfortable, as a member of the Circle?
no subject
Connor has the keys to unlock these thoughts, if he knows how to use them. She's almost revealed the implausible truth of her travels to him in the past, after all. Hopefully he's forgotten. (He probably hasn't.)
She looks over when he poses his question. Questions. Both of them. ]
... sometimes, yes. I would not be a very good soldier if I were not adaptable. I can be useful here. There's comfort to be found in that.
[ Other times, though - ] However, there are also times when I feel very - behind. [ and ] Ignorant.
no subject
Thanks for that, Amanda.]
You shouldn't feel that way, Lucina. There might be things you don't know, but you're quick to adapt and learn. You're level-headed when it counts. And none of us here are completely prepared for what the next day might bring us -- much less the next mission.
So please, don't feel ignorant. I... wish things had turned out differently. I do not like feeling as if I've 'come up short', as it were, or have failed. It goes against what I am.
[A beat.]
But, I suppose, we can only do better in the future.
[If only he could feel good about simply moving on.]
no subject
By now, she knows that Connor isn't someone to hand out false flattery. If it isn't the truth to him, he has no time for it.
And then there are the words he uses. Words that, in the past, she's specifically pointed out his avoidance of. Wish. Feel. It passes by so fluidly that she almost doesn't notice, giving herself a slight case of mental whiplash as her mind hooks onto those words long after they're spoken. ]
If we spend too much time commiserating on our failure, we may forget to pay attention on those who need us now, or will in the future. [ Essentially, she agrees with him, finding comfort in his unthinking human behaviour. ]
Have you spoken to any of your own from home?
no subject
Yet today? The images of a crumbling city, a world cracking under the pressure of their shortcomings, makes him not even want to bother. Only cling to the hopeful words he can manage to spout, and her agreement to them. There’s balance there to be found, if they can both believe in it.]
Exactly. It’s easy for our focus to be compromised for now — and understandable, too — but let’s not allow it to affect us for too long. I don’t want to resign myself to more failures just because I’ve experienced one.
[At her question, though, he pauses briefly.]
I’ve spoken to Hank. He isn’t taking it well. That’s… unsurprising to me.
no subject
[
Lucina, that's so rude?She doesn't bat an eyelash at the quiet revelation that Connor and Hank come from the same place, but it does make her reflect slightly. If she ever has to choose between Hank's frenetic, talkative anger and Connor's polite, unerring calculations - well, it isn't difficult. She'd choose Connor every time.
Hank, she thinks, would have made a terrible soldier. She certainly wouldn't have trusted him to be near Chrom! ]
I hope he can find some solid ground before we are sent on our next mission.
[ There's more she has to say - maybe, a story about just one failure - but not yet. Let's see how they weather this, first. ]
no subject
[But the subject of Hank causes a long pause to settle between them as Connor finds himself caught between two stances. The first being the want to defend the Lieutenant, to tell her that he’s a good man tossed into circumstances otherwise difficult for most people to parse, much less accept in a short period of time. The other half is inclined to agree, memories of being dismissed and patronized muddying the waters.
He settles on something in-between.]
I assume you’ve spoken with him enough that he's given you this impression. Hank is… he has a lot of personal issues, ones that he has trouble dealing with in normal circumstances. Departed from home, his methods of coping have only worsened.
[A beat, he frowns, clearly bothered.]
It makes trying to reason with him… difficult.
no subject
It doesn't change the fact that, right now, she wouldn't trust Hank to have her back.
... nor Connor's, if it came down to it. (But that's not up to her, is it?) ]
Did something happen between the two of you?
no subject
Like I said, reasoning with him is difficult. Which makes cooperation with him doubly so. I had tried to work with him again, as partners, like we were back in Detroit. But our failure on Akvos has just made him see it all as a useless endeavor.
[Hands curl into loose fists at his side, then relax again.]
Maybe I've miscalculated. Maybe my expectations are too high.
no subject
It can be quite difficult to change someone's mind once they're so set.
[ Hank sounds like quite a weak man, so ready to succumb to despair and give up trying. It's a condemning perspective based on limited interaction. She thinks it, doesn't say it. ]
I've said this before, but you are not without allies here, Connor. Friends. We failed, but - what's important now are the lessons we learn from it. We cannot do anything more for Akvos but we can keep what we have learned with us and take it to the next world. [ From how easily these words come out, it almost feels like a script she's memorised, or a mantra she's repeated to herself over and over. That doesn't mean they lack any especial humanity, however. Lucina couldn't be disingenuous if she tried. ] - I told you somewhat of my home, yes?