ataraxion | [ video + action if you're near the shuttle bay? ]

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[ video + action if you're near the shuttle bay? ]

[ the video feed is abruptly switched on to reveal Hotspur looking quiet and pensive. For once he's not in the cavernous shuttle bay but in the pilots rec room that overlooks it. At his back is a bank of grey lockers; clearly he's sitting on the floor and propping himself up against them, head reclined wearily back and upturned towards the fluorescent strip-lighting above. For those that are looking really carefully there's a thin cut across the bridge of his nose: the recurring broken cartilage that just won't stay in one piece.]

There are some of the Old Gods on board. Old Gods from Sol Earth. [ He sounds pensive, if a little tired, and his voice is low enough that he's on the verge of whispering. ] Gods - actual gods – are coming with us...

[ There's a sharp noise off screen from the dark reaches of the seemingly never-ending depths of the shuttle bay and Hotspur's gaze is instantly torn away from the device. A pipe creaking as it cools maybe, but the sound is sharp enough to echo in the cavernous room beyond where Hotspur is sitting. He shifts uneasily before slowly turning back to the device in his hand. ]

You see, people always reckon space is empty and barren and everything, but it's not. Actually, space isn't empty at all. Where I'm from the ashes of the thousands of humans that died during the exodus from the old Earth were cast out in to the stars. Plenty of other space-faring civilisations do it too. Sometimes there's no other way to bury your dead in space but to return them to the stars... And bodies are made of bits of carbon and space dust, right? So space is full of spirits. Mainly the quiet kind.

[ Mainly, he said. ]

And now the Old Gods are coming with us. Having them on board can only be a good thing, I think.

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[ ....well that is the least reassuring ever. The upheld hands falter, dropping a little in the face of Heather's insistence. ]

What - why? What makes you say that?

[she's chewing on her lip, clearly deciding what to say. Or more accurately, what not to say.]

Did you ever have a swan plant? You know, the kind that attracts monarch butterflies? And when there are too many of them and there aren't enough leaves to feed them, you have to start squashing the eggs so they don't hatch just to starve?

Do you think the caterpillars see that as helping?

[ Wow. That analogy is as gruesome as it is worrying. Hotspur averts his eyes pensively, debating exactly which emotion wins out. He goes for worried. ]

I... What makes you say that? What do you know?

I... [was nearly mother to? No, no way. Not ready to share that yet.]

I have experience with a God who was meant to bring about Paradise on earth. Turned out the first step was to purify it by flame. Barbecue all the nonbelievers, and a few believers who weren't up to scratch as well.

Look, I'm not saying your Gods are as bad as... that one. But if they're really Gods? They're going to see things a little differently. Our welfare may not count for much in their bigger picture.

That's... [ Hotspur trails off, unable to find a word that really did Heather's horrifying story full justice. He struggles to find his voice again, clearly perturbed by what she's said and not really wanting to think that his Gods would be anything like that. ]

I - I'm sorry, that's terrible. [ And he truly means it. Whatever it was that he was trying to say in his video post has been overwhelmed by his concern for the portrait of humanity that Heather's story has detailed. Hotspur shuffles a little closer to the video feed. ] What happened to you? Did you escape?

[when she laughs there's no mirth to it at all. The sound is a bitter, hollow gasp. But she hasn't spoken about this to anyone, not since Douglas, and there's so much going on here that is indescribably strange. So maybe it's okay if...]

I killed it.

[ That laugh. It's pretty damn unsettling, Heather. Hotspur looks stricken in response. ]

You killed it.

[ There's a question in there somewhere but Hotspur can't quite summon the intonation, not just yet. He's still slowly processing what on earth she could mean. ]

Yeah.

[ Her hands are at her necklace now, tumbling the ball of her locket through her fingers over and over, and her voice is thick and flat. She can see she's scared him and she owes him an explanation, but that doesn't mean she's willing to cry in front of him, even if it is through the distance of a screen. ]

It wasn't... complete. I stopped it from, uh, being born the way it was supposed to. Claudia tried to save it but it didn't come out right. It killed her. And then there was just me, so...

[ This really is quite horrifying - and Hotspur's always been fairly open with his emotions so it's all painfully clear on his face just how shocked he is. ]

But - it can't have been. You can't just kill a god...

[ But Hotspur isn't the kind of man to call out others on things he disagrees with; in the querying arch of his eyebrows there's a hidden, doubtful addendum of 'or can you?' ]

[ It's not that she expected to be believed - after all, that's the reason she's kept all this to herself for so long - but it does kind of chafe when she's finally letting it out. But the look on his face is so raw she can't bring herself to tell him to piss off. ]

Loki killed Baldr. Bunch of them got themselves crucified.

[ she shrugs, shakes her head. It's not like she understands it either, but all she can do is try. ]

I think this might have been a special case. I was pretty closely involved. And I don't know if it's gone for good or if it's just out there, waiting to come back again.

But it looked pretty dead when I'd finished with it, yeah.

Loki! [ The exclamation leaps out before has a chance to censor himself; the last thing he wants is to paint his new-found Old Gods in any kind of dangerous light, but the mention of the Norse god's name elicits a look of surprise. ] He... he's one of the gods on board.

[ He doesn't know how this fits together - Heather's backstory and the revelation of gods on board - but he's not very happy. Hotspur swallows awkwardly before continuing: ]

If you killed a god then perhaps you're... special. Maybe. What's your name?

[ Heather raises an eyebrow at the outburst, manages a small smile. That's not something she expected to hear, but she's getting used to the idea that all sorts of things she'd assumed were myths or stories are real for the other people here - hell, sometimes they are the other people here - so mostly she's just relieved to hear these Gods aren't anything to do with the Order. So relieved she gives away a little more than she planned. ]

That's kind of a relief, actually. He's... um, not one of ours. And I am - okay, it feels so weird to say this, but I am special. In that respect, anyway. I was supposed to bring it in to the world, so I guess it makes a weird kind of sense that I could take it out.

My name's Heather. Heather Mason.

Heather.

[ He repeats her name quietly. It's a good name, an old name. It brought back memories of sweet-smelling good-luck flower charms worn by young girls to ward away evil spirits. Hotspur slowly nods; yes, it was a very good name. And names were important. ]

I'm Max. But call me Hotspur; it's my callsign.

[ He takes a breath and steels himself. ]

Look, Heather. I don't know what to think of all - [ He gestures, uselessly. ] - all that stuff you just told me. It sounds pretty intense and I bet you've been through a hell of a lot. And you must be special. But... you're not going to kill these gods, right?

[ Look at his face, Heather! He's so hopeful and pleading! ]

[ Her father left her with a love of literature, so the fact that he's a military man going by Hotspur pleases her. Because of that it's her first impulse to just say no, to reassure him. But he's been kind. He deserves better than a brush-off. ]

Hotspur. I like it.

I won't try to kill them just because they're Gods, no. But if they try to hurt me or anybody I care about - anybody who hasn't brought it on themselves - I won't let that slide just because they think they're above us.

[She smiles then, a little wry.]

Like I said, it might have been a special case. If I ever have to try, I might just get my ass handed to me. But I promise you I won't try without reason.

[ Unfortunately for him, Hotspur has never read any Shakespeare. Hell, he wouldn't even recognise the name Henry Percy. The callsign had been chosen for him as a rookie by his fellow pilots - an initiation whereby actual reasoning behind the choices other than 'what sounds cool' was far and few between.

And right now Hotspur can't quite decide whether to be worried about Heather or in awe of her. There are so many different little things in what she's just said that any other person in his position might object to or reason against, by Hotspur doesn't want to do any of that. He merely nods, passively. ]

Thank you, Heather. [ a pause. ] If you ever do find yourself in that kind of situation, though, you can call on me. [ Because he's pretty sure ass-handings shouldn't happen, no matter who's involved. ]

[ She probably won't. Heather's a firm believer in action; when you have to do something you do it, you don't gum up the works with people who are going to try to talk you out of it. And Hotspur seems like such a genuinely good guy she can't imagine ever feeling okay about asking him to go head-to-head with something he seems to really believe in. Still, she appreciates the fact that he'd offer. ]

Thanks. It's good to know there are people like you out here.

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[ video + action if you're near the shuttle bay? ]

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[video] I'm smashing through my backtags as I come off hiatus; apologies for the wait!

np! welcome back <3

thank you! <3

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