Dirk Strider (Ultimate) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
uber_marionettist) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
silph_co2020-04-04 08:42 pm
uber_marionettist) wrote in silph_co2020-04-04 08:42 pm
Switch on, switch off, robotic [Closed]
Who: Dirk Strider and Carly Nagisa
Where: Lapras Mech Lab
When: At some point after Carly talks to Connie
Summary: Carly said she would have words with Dirk. Dirk never said he'd listen.
Rating: cw for suicidal ideation, breaks with reality, self loathing, etc
Blocking every number on his Pokegear was the second thing Dirk did after ensuring Carly herself was locked out of the lab. He has no regrets about that.
It also guaranteed him some fucking privacy during his inevitable offscreen reactions. Eventually, though, the dust settles and the sutures have been tied off.
And there's something about being alone in a place that he can't escape, that wasn't his choice.
It fucks with him.
That's normal.
For him.
But this is different. Better? Worse? Just different. Bigger than that jail, smaller than this game. It's not a matter of scale.
And it's lacking the amenities of the ferry, sure, but far enough from the sea he can't smell or see or hear it. It's not a matter of location.
It's a matter of isolation.
There's no one to see him, hear him. Not even any of his other selves. No one.
And nothing real.
He remembers being young, sitting alone in his room, or atop the spire or down by the ocean, closing his eyes in the shower or even submerging himself in that infinite seawater. And trying to feel that. 'Real.' To feel certain enough, to know whether he was, or else whether anything around him was 'real.' To prove or disprove it, to push with his mind until whatever breakthrough would dispel the falsehood or bring him into the reality that he knew had to exist, somehow.
The uncertainty would eat at him for hours, the lack of breakthrough frustrating to the point of archeronian agony. But to know, categorically and conclusively, that it is not...
And to not know, but to fear that he is not...
The thing about being alone, truly physically and existentially alone, is that you start to do strange things. Like lying on your back on cold concrete flooring, staring at the ceiling. Trying to 'feel' your own reality.
In a way, he's already sure he is not.
Or he wouldn't have slipped this far out of control.
Where: Lapras Mech Lab
When: At some point after Carly talks to Connie
Summary: Carly said she would have words with Dirk. Dirk never said he'd listen.
Rating: cw for suicidal ideation, breaks with reality, self loathing, etc
Blocking every number on his Pokegear was the second thing Dirk did after ensuring Carly herself was locked out of the lab. He has no regrets about that.
It also guaranteed him some fucking privacy during his inevitable offscreen reactions. Eventually, though, the dust settles and the sutures have been tied off.
And there's something about being alone in a place that he can't escape, that wasn't his choice.
It fucks with him.
That's normal.
For him.
But this is different. Better? Worse? Just different. Bigger than that jail, smaller than this game. It's not a matter of scale.
And it's lacking the amenities of the ferry, sure, but far enough from the sea he can't smell or see or hear it. It's not a matter of location.
It's a matter of isolation.
There's no one to see him, hear him. Not even any of his other selves. No one.
And nothing real.
He remembers being young, sitting alone in his room, or atop the spire or down by the ocean, closing his eyes in the shower or even submerging himself in that infinite seawater. And trying to feel that. 'Real.' To feel certain enough, to know whether he was, or else whether anything around him was 'real.' To prove or disprove it, to push with his mind until whatever breakthrough would dispel the falsehood or bring him into the reality that he knew had to exist, somehow.
The uncertainty would eat at him for hours, the lack of breakthrough frustrating to the point of archeronian agony. But to know, categorically and conclusively, that it is not...
And to not know, but to fear that he is not...
The thing about being alone, truly physically and existentially alone, is that you start to do strange things. Like lying on your back on cold concrete flooring, staring at the ceiling. Trying to 'feel' your own reality.
In a way, he's already sure he is not.
Or he wouldn't have slipped this far out of control.
no subject
She didn't expect him to get it ultimately- the reason someone would push. Keep pushing. Keep-
"Because even when something is 'meant to be', there's still a chance in trying." She says it with confidence. An absolute radiance, firmness, the words of someone who has met fate in the face and torn through it before.
And she'll tear through it again. "It's easy to just accept things aren't meant to be. But even if others fail, nothing would change if people gave up after that. I don't just 'think' it can change. I know it can, and because I know that, I don't need to know everything about what I'm agreeing to- I can keep that promise, and I can be your friend."
no subject
But what he says, finally, is:
"You know that saying you're my friend repeatedly doesn't make it true, right?"
no subject
Carly crosses her arms. "Dirk, I don't know what kinds of friends any part of you have had- but I'm going to be honest...the way you seem to think of the word, it doesn't feel like you've had very...good ones? I'm not going farther than that, but the fact is, I consider you to be a friend. I also know when people are getting along even better as friends! That was the whole reason I came here after all, both you and Connie weren't exactly coming out of everything alright, and I'd rather my friends be able to be...well. Happy, in the end."
She pauses. "...Let's not drag that out though. The point is what it is. It doesn't feel like you actually know what a 'friend' is. I'd rather repeat it and continue doing my best to be a good one than just decide you shouldn't ever know what having one means."
no subject
The sharp turnaround is not visible in his physical demeanour, but it is very audible.
"My friends are the only people who've ever had my back, even when I didn't deserve it. They've been better than I fucking deserve. And you--" he stops, collects himself--again, it's pretty much invisible, only the hard downturn of his mouth betraying his anger to the naked eye.
But his voice almost--almost, never quite, but
al.
most.
shakes with it.
"Have no right to judge them."
Another breath. Lessening the sudden wave of ice and fire, temperamental, but still dark, still half a threat that really doesn't have any teeth now.
"You know that's Jane you're talking about?"
Is it rhetorical or just condescending?
no subject
"I never said someone couldn't do both," is what she says quietly- but not so quietly that she sounds cowed. "And the fact is, most people don't mean to be 'bad' friends. I'd even say a lot of friendships are like that, or start like that. And stay like that for a while."
But... "...That's why learning what to do to change things is important. So that both sides can learn. I'm not going to say what Jane or anyone else specifically does or doesn't do. But people are shaped by the experiences around them, and the people they interact with. And the things you expect from your friendships... ...aren't what you should be expecting. That's all."