[ well. it's familiar, at least, because he's done this for himself, for his students, a thousand times. he closes his eyes. they're in a stupid hole, so it's a little harder than usual, but he can improvise, even if his own heart is pounding, too, hard enough he might lose sight too (the young lady and her parents and the heavy weight they carried; the girl in the tank who haunts his dreams, the human sacrifices of the nuwa project) - there's nothing in here to sense but this damn dark hole.
there is a body, though, and maybe more than that, there's the simple cold facts of repetitive science, and it's that where he anchors himself, and murmurs; ]
Carpal bones. Proximal row. [ like a list. five things you can see, four you can hear, but in the darkness, there's nothing and he has to go with his gut. while the first two words come out shaky, he regains a little steadiness as he starts to list. ] Lateral to medial: Scaphoid. Lunate. Triquetrum. Pisiform.
[she doesn't understand what he's doing at first, but then she understands too well. she's certainly not familiar with anyone being understanding about mental health, but she knows what it means to repeat things as a grounding technique. prayers and catechisms, typically, not bones, but this if anything is easier to latch onto.]
Good. [ he says, quietly - more for the recognition of latching onto the same technique than for the fact that she could name the bones because like, of course she could, she could probably name them in three different languages comparatively, but that's besides the point.
this continues for another round. metacarpal i to metacarpal v, thumb to pinky, connecting to the proximal phalanges. each digit contains proximal, intermediate, and distal phalange, except for the thumb, which lacks intermediate. it continues until they both seem to be calmer, or at least grounded into this godawful moment, but if i have to look up more bones on two hours of sleep im going to die.
...by the time they're through naming the bones of the hand, lu bixing takes in a big, deep breath - holds it for a moment, like a silent guide, and then exhales, big. it's then and only then that he shifts, leaning back against the edge of this terrible hole and closing his eyes. ]
... I'm sorry. [ is what he says, but, it's not a sorry that happened to you so much as it is a sorry soaked in empathy, something a little more bitter than what lu bixing has ever really shown. a sorry that she carries the same weight that he does. a sorry that it was thrown out like that - that maybe whatever hell mechanic this carries made it so the memory chosen for him was the worst possible one for harrow to see, if only because it could've easily been a chain reaction. there's guilt in his stomach, roiling and unhappy, the same kind he always feels when the rainbow virus's miserable little continuation stays, when he remembers the way his own existence could only have been formed from the sorrow of billions of others.
quietly, in that same tone of just-slightly-bitter empathy, of calmness, the back of your mouth blood that comes from having that story shared. ] Is it better or worse, that someone else knows?
[ because really, he doesn't know the answer, either. ]
[her sigh is heavy and tired, but it helps. she's less frightened and more focused, and she'll remember this kindness later when she isn't quite so drained.]
I don't know.
[it's honest. it feels bad to talk about this. it feels bad to think about this. sympathy is not something she can take, when it comes to this particular topic; the only correct reaction is horror. but at least she knows his sympathy and kindness comes from a place not of dismissing her part in the horror but of understanding why she can't.
it isn't a choice either of them made. it was done to them, without being asked. but every breath of life since then feels like it's making a decision to continue using what was bought at such a terrible price. the only thing worse than continuing to use it would be to throw it away.]
I couldn't tell someone about it, the way you did. [well actually she has, to gideon, but - ] I always was taught that...the secrets I've had to keep, and this is only one of them. Should anyone learn of those terrible secrets, it would be the end of everything.
[ he listens quietly as she talks - patiently so, even, as he fusses at the cuffs of his sleeves, just for the sensation of having something to do with his hands. ]
...I see. [ the weight of that burden was never forced on lu bixing, but - in a way, it was. monoeye hawk just lied to him about it. lied about who his other parents were. lied about his connection to the project itself. he's always been too smart not to put the pieces together, though, and it rings true to what harrow says, too. he was never taught he had to keep the secrets; he just had to keep them, and keep the fact that he knew from his father, too. ]
...I was terrified, to tell Lin. I tried everything I could to get out of it, and we never talked about it afterwards. I still don't know how he feels about it, and frankly, I don't think I want to know. He's the person I trust the most in the world, and even then, every time I think about it, it makes me feel sick. I'd rather bear the burden myself, and to be honest, if I could go back in time and stop that from happening, I probably would have.
[ ugh. he shakes his head, dispelling the last of that uncomfortable thought and pushing it away, turning instead to actually look at harrow, now, head ducked, mouth lifted just slightly at the corner. ]
... Whether it's better or worse, your secret is safe with me, Harrowhark. No end of everything in sight.
[she says it sincerely, looking up at him. the fact that he's also sickened and ashamed by it makes her feel better somehow. he seems to kind and seems to find it easy to be around others, and she finds it so impossible. but he hasn't found a way to make peace with it either.]
[ they make eye contact, and his smile is small, and genuine. all of the kindness and warmth that makes lu bixing who he is is who he is - even in a situation like this, with his worst on display, he's sincere and genuine, and harrow's returned sincerity is deeply appreciative. ]
Of course. [ he's still unsettled and unhappy, but there's something about hearing something so similar that helps. camaraderie, maybe. solidarity, if nothing else. those tiny hands that grabbed him on the execution stage still flash through his memories, even now - and it's almost a little comforting, too, to know that someone knows the actual context besides just lin. ] And thank you, too.
[ the feeling's mutual, in the worst and best kind of ways.
he reaches up after a moment, and scrubs a hand over his face. okay. okay. ]
Do you think we've shared enough of our suffering to get out of this hole? I'd really love to get out of this hole.
[how does that work though i've never had a thread progress this far.
anyway, she's drained now, past wanting to talk about it, but there isn't all that much that needs to be said. she doesn't need to ask him questions about it, or how he feels. she knows how he feels.]
[ i think the hole disappearing is what happens but i think this is funnier so i'm going to ignore it. he squints as he stands up, holding a hand over his brow to look up. it's not that much deeper and taller than he is and lu bixing is deeply thankful for the distraction of something that is like, comically stupid. ]
I can probably give you a boost out and it'll probably be undignified, so we can never talk about that again, also.
[she deeply appreciates never having to talk about this again and just knowing that they're both on the same page. anyway i guess he can boost her out and she can reach an arm down to help him, badly.]
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outsidebones) wrote2023-02-05 05:03 pm
no subject
no subject
there is a body, though, and maybe more than that, there's the simple cold facts of repetitive science, and it's that where he anchors himself, and murmurs; ]
Carpal bones. Proximal row. [ like a list. five things you can see, four you can hear, but in the darkness, there's nothing and he has to go with his gut. while the first two words come out shaky, he regains a little steadiness as he starts to list. ] Lateral to medial: Scaphoid. Lunate. Triquetrum. Pisiform.
Distal?
no subject
Trapezium, trapezoid, capitate, hamate.
no subject
this continues for another round. metacarpal i to metacarpal v, thumb to pinky, connecting to the proximal phalanges. each digit contains proximal, intermediate, and distal phalange, except for the thumb, which lacks intermediate. it continues until they both seem to be calmer, or at least grounded into this godawful moment, but if i have to look up more bones on two hours of sleep im going to die.
...by the time they're through naming the bones of the hand, lu bixing takes in a big, deep breath - holds it for a moment, like a silent guide, and then exhales, big. it's then and only then that he shifts, leaning back against the edge of this terrible hole and closing his eyes. ]
... I'm sorry. [ is what he says, but, it's not a sorry that happened to you so much as it is a sorry soaked in empathy, something a little more bitter than what lu bixing has ever really shown. a sorry that she carries the same weight that he does. a sorry that it was thrown out like that - that maybe whatever hell mechanic this carries made it so the memory chosen for him was the worst possible one for harrow to see, if only because it could've easily been a chain reaction. there's guilt in his stomach, roiling and unhappy, the same kind he always feels when the rainbow virus's miserable little continuation stays, when he remembers the way his own existence could only have been formed from the sorrow of billions of others.
quietly, in that same tone of just-slightly-bitter empathy, of calmness, the back of your mouth blood that comes from having that story shared. ] Is it better or worse, that someone else knows?
[ because really, he doesn't know the answer, either. ]
no subject
I don't know.
[it's honest. it feels bad to talk about this. it feels bad to think about this. sympathy is not something she can take, when it comes to this particular topic; the only correct reaction is horror. but at least she knows his sympathy and kindness comes from a place not of dismissing her part in the horror but of understanding why she can't.
it isn't a choice either of them made. it was done to them, without being asked. but every breath of life since then feels like it's making a decision to continue using what was bought at such a terrible price. the only thing worse than continuing to use it would be to throw it away.]
I couldn't tell someone about it, the way you did. [well actually she has, to gideon, but - ] I always was taught that...the secrets I've had to keep, and this is only one of them. Should anyone learn of those terrible secrets, it would be the end of everything.
no subject
...I see. [ the weight of that burden was never forced on lu bixing, but - in a way, it was. monoeye hawk just lied to him about it. lied about who his other parents were. lied about his connection to the project itself. he's always been too smart not to put the pieces together, though, and it rings true to what harrow says, too. he was never taught he had to keep the secrets; he just had to keep them, and keep the fact that he knew from his father, too. ]
...I was terrified, to tell Lin. I tried everything I could to get out of it, and we never talked about it afterwards. I still don't know how he feels about it, and frankly, I don't think I want to know. He's the person I trust the most in the world, and even then, every time I think about it, it makes me feel sick. I'd rather bear the burden myself, and to be honest, if I could go back in time and stop that from happening, I probably would have.
[ ugh. he shakes his head, dispelling the last of that uncomfortable thought and pushing it away, turning instead to actually look at harrow, now, head ducked, mouth lifted just slightly at the corner. ]
... Whether it's better or worse, your secret is safe with me, Harrowhark. No end of everything in sight.
no subject
[she says it sincerely, looking up at him. the fact that he's also sickened and ashamed by it makes her feel better somehow. he seems to kind and seems to find it easy to be around others, and she finds it so impossible. but he hasn't found a way to make peace with it either.]
...Thank you.
no subject
Of course. [ he's still unsettled and unhappy, but there's something about hearing something so similar that helps. camaraderie, maybe. solidarity, if nothing else. those tiny hands that grabbed him on the execution stage still flash through his memories, even now - and it's almost a little comforting, too, to know that someone knows the actual context besides just lin. ] And thank you, too.
[ the feeling's mutual, in the worst and best kind of ways.
he reaches up after a moment, and scrubs a hand over his face. okay. okay. ]
Do you think we've shared enough of our suffering to get out of this hole? I'd really love to get out of this hole.
no subject
[how does that work though i've never had a thread progress this far.
anyway, she's drained now, past wanting to talk about it, but there isn't all that much that needs to be said. she doesn't need to ask him questions about it, or how he feels. she knows how he feels.]
no subject
I can probably give you a boost out and it'll probably be undignified, so we can never talk about that again, also.
no subject
[she deeply appreciates never having to talk about this again and just knowing that they're both on the same page. anyway i guess he can boost her out and she can reach an arm down to help him, badly.]