flightforfreedom | MoM IC Inbox

[He pauses now, looking to Poe.]

Why is it frustrating? All humans are soft.

[Poe, on the other hand, is definitely not looking at Kay.]

Yeah. That's kind of the problem.

I shouldn't be here, Kay. Not after that.

[Oh. Yes. Alright, guess this is coming up now.]

... I'm sorry, Poe. I... am responsible for what happened to you. All of it was my fault.

[Poe wouldn't have been in the theater if he hadn't been trying to get Kay out, wouldn't have gotten sucked into his own dream if Kay had woke up faster, wouldn't have had to destroy his own dream if Kay hadn't pushed him to, wouldn't have lost his foot if Kay hadn't shaken him, wouldn't have died if Kay had been more careful-

It all was his fault, he's known this since he left the house, and honestly he's been waiting for Poe to finally acknowledge where the blame should go.]

Kay, you weren't even there for half of it.

[He grabbed one of the logs and put it on the stump, before swinging down to split it with a giant crack into two pieces.]

I don't know who - or what - designed that place, but it is their fault. [He grabs another log, sets it up.] Everything in that damn place was a psychopath's wet dream, and the fact that they put you and Bodhi and everyone else through it --

[Another swing and a crack.]

[An imPort designed it. A psychopath, as Poe says, is probably accurate. But it's over, and there's no sign of this Narrator since.]

Poe.

[Noted: Building aggression mixed with stress and lack of sleep.]

What. [He snaps the word and then instantly regrets it, grimacing. He rests the axe down on the stump, still holding the handle but no longer chopping.]

Sorry.

What is it, Kay?

Perhaps wood cutting is not the best task for you to undertake right now.

I am going to respectfully disagree with you.

[He leans over to grab another piece of wood.]

I'm fine, Kay. I just- it makes my blood boil, thinking of everything here that-- it should be okay, it should be fine - maybe not great, or even good, but fine, and then ---

[Swing - CRACK]

You are rambling, with indications of elevated stress levels, and have had insufficient rest. I bet you also haven't eaten within the past six hours either.

So I'm going to respectfully disagree with your inaccurate assessment of being "fine."

[Kay takes a step closer.]

I just need to blow off some steam. [But he lowered the axe again - he didn't want to accidentally hit Kay, and he had a feeling Kay would make a grab for the axe if he kept going, so instead he just tossed it to the forest floor in frustration.]

I've gone through worse. [Partly a lie, partly not- nothing haunted his dreams like Kylo Ren's mind pull did.

Nothing haunted him like Shara.]

I just have to pull myself back together. That's it. I don't want you worrying about me.

Well, too late for that.

[On the worry part. But he doesn't step closer anymore.]

You sound less like you are trying to explain your behavior to me, and more like you're making excuses to yourself.

[He stares at the axe on the ground, almost glaring at it, and doesn't look at Kay.]

I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That's all. You don't need to deal with my shit too, Kay. You've been through enough.

All of you have.

[And this is where Kay very kindly and gently rolls his photoreceptors. Good thing Poe isn't looking, at least.]

No. I am not okay. I had someone very important to me get impaled on a giant spike in front of me.

Did I ever tell you why Cassian wanted me to be his partner? It was, almost specifically, to 'deal with his shit.'

Technically, you are correct, and I don't need to. But 'dealing with shit' is a field I am at this point extremely well versed in- and in this case, I want to. So I would appreciate it if you would not put me on some sort of pedestal that indicates when I have dealt with 'enough,' because as we can see, the rest of the planet does not care.

Edited 2017-10-29 03:43 (UTC)

[He swallows, hard, because he is not going to cry in front of Kay again. So he just swallows and glares at the axe like a stubborn child.]

I'm sorry, Kay.

[For being impaled. For everything.]

It's not- it's not a pedestal-- [It sort of is, though, and he sighs and runs a hand through his hair.]

I just- I feel like if I can't hold myself together, I'm never going to be able to help my friends. And I'd -- I'd rather everyone was safe, and alright. Even if it meant that I wasn't. Especially if I wasn't. But it's not-- its not a pedestal, I just...

[He finally looks up at Kay, and he looks almost five years older - just incredibly tired.]

Don't want to hurt you. That's all. And at the moment I'm pretty sure I'm primed to hurt just about anyone, whether I want to or not.

Edited 2017-10-29 03:54 (UTC)

Your assumptions are incorrect.

[Humans are particularly bad at assessing their own feelings when their feelings are guilt-driven. He's fallen for this sort of trap too. Experiencing guilt was awful, and he hated it.]

...I would not like to see you broken, Poe. I am not an expert on emotions by any means. But I know that repression will cause more damage overall than finding a real form of coping.

You can't hurt me physically. If you mean emotionally, I assure you, I have already "gone through worse."

[He can't look sad, or empathetic, or anything that might convey how worried he is...]

Please let me help you. Or find someone who can.

Edited 2017-10-29 13:38 (UTC)

[He swallows again and looks forcefully away, brows knit tightly. He isn't sure how to respond. He'd always managed to breeze through his psych evals before - laugh with the medics and carry on like nothing had happened. Even after his capture, he had been "fine", though that had likely more to do with the fact that he had seriously downplayed his torture than his actual mental state.

Except that he had been fine, compared to this. Sure, it had given him nightmares that still cropped up, months later, but Ren was evil and it was easy to shove everything in him back to the war effort. It just gave him more fuel to stay committed to taking Ren and Hux down.

But this?

He kept trying to concentrate on the evil behind it, but it wasn't easy. There was no army, no massive force or threat. Just random, near haphazard violence that he could not easily fight, let alone protect his friends from.

And he still couldn't let Shara go. The guilt over leaving her, despite the fact that she was a pure figment of his imagination, weighed on him heavier than any he'd ever felt. All the deaths he had caused were nothing compared. It had been war. People die. But this?

He had killed a part of himself he hadn't known was there.]

... So what exactly is a real form of coping.

[That was as close to a yes, as close to a 'please help me', as Kay was going to get.]

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Wow I feel so attacked right now that was right in the feels