Broadcast Mind

[brewglory]

[This lengthy broadcast is by request of my fellow players. <3

I apologize for the tl;dr, but "Lily" is pretty much his life story.]




___________

Funny how hard a child's heart can beat. You feel winded, like you've run for miles, and yet you're standing still.

You're fascinated by the way her hair looks like fire in sunlight. She says your name and your mouth twists into a smile. This is love without complications, without desire, without jealousy: all-consuming and pure.

You're only nine and you worship her.
____________

He has you upside-down with your own spell. Your own spell. Desperately, you try to force the counter-curse, nonverbal and wandless because your mouth is full of soap suds and your wand is lying twenty feet away.

That must be a fascinating book; Lupin seems to be having a hard time deciding whether to keep up the pretense of reading it or stepping in to stop this. (But Potter's his friend, the spineless little prat, and you know, you know-)

Potter drops you at her demand and you land hard on unforgiving ground.

"There you go. You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus-"

You've gotten to your feet and you could make a mad dash for your wand now…But you're humiliated and hurt and enraged, and you're fifteen, and you don't need her protection. Especially not when the only reason her protection is of value is because James Potter sees in her what you see. He wants what you want, and one of these days, you know he'll win.

It comes out before you can stop yourself.

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"
____________

She won't spare you half a glance these days, and you try to pretend not to care. She's hanging on to Potter's every word and smiling at him as though he's something special, something worthwhile, when not two years ago, she promised you, said she would never look at him twice. Called him a toerag.

Now it's impossible to walk down a corridor and not see them together.

…It's not as though you care.

It doesn't matter, anyhow, because you're of age, and you'll take the Dark Mark just as soon as you can. You'll do it with a sneer, full of teenage anger for a million things, that flash of emotion that consumes you when you're displeased and only dies to a simmer when you're happy. You'll do it because your pride has been wounded and your heart broken and because nothing good comes from associating with Muggles. You'll do it because the other Death Eaters are the only ones you can trust, because they accept you, because they protect you, because you're part of something and there's power and glory to be had.

(Because you're always spoiling for a fight.)

You're seventeen and you hate everything.
_____________

Your Patronus is a doe.

You hate that, too.
_____________

October 31st, 1981.

It's your fault.

Mostly.

You didn't betray them. They placed their faith in the wrong person, just as you did. And…no. You didn't hold the wand that ended their lives. But you don't think of these things; denying your responsibility is an insult to her memory. It's evil, and haven't you done enough of that? It's your fault because you became what you are, and because you delivered that half-heard prophecy which, once interpreted, once understood, condemned the Potters to death.

Months ago, you begged Albus Dumbledore to keep her safe. You promised you would do anything in exchange not only for her protection, but that of her husband and child. At that moment, you didn't care that she had married him; let her stay alive and be with him. You thought you could survive on the knowledge that Lily Potter was alive and happy somewhere in the world.

You think you can't survive now that she's been ripped out of it. You don't want to survive.

She's dead and it's your fault.
_____________

It's 1982. The students baffle you; many of them aren't much younger than you. You don't know how to wield authority over them because the oldest ones are very nearly your peers. Some of them attended school with you. It's awkward and you aren't suited to the job at all. It's a waste of the potential you might have had: an eternity of grading papers and overseeing detentions, on and on and on. The most well-crafted of prisons. You'll never escape.

Today, you're preparing Amortentia for the sixth year Potions class. Despite your aptitude for potions, despite the need to appear competent in front of teenagers barely younger than yourself, you avoid coming too near it once it's done. It will smell like summertime and playgrounds, some faintly floral scent you can never quite place. Waking up in the morning is already hard enough without that reminder of her (dead, gone, he swore he would keep her safe -)

Halfway through your uneasy lecture (confidence and flair will come later), one overeager Hufflepuff has the nerve to ask you what it smells like for you. Genuine interest or mockery, it doesn't matter why she asked: you dock her house ten points for her impertinence and assign her a detention.

You hate this job.
___________

Harry Potter has her eyes, it's true. You were expecting that; Albus has said it to you so many times now that you hear it in your sleep (when you sleep). He has her eyes exactly. It's your duty to protect him, to ensure he survives into adulthood, and Albus will never let you forget for a moment that he is Lily's son. Just in case you forget how much you owe.

No one ever mentioned, however, that the rest of him looks exactly like James Potter. Here is living proof that the love of your life was bedded by your enemy. It's proof that she loved him though she promised she'd never.

You hate him.
___________

Remus Lupin has been hired on, and you've been "volunteered" to brew his Wolfsbane Potion for him. With all the bad blood between the pair of you, you idly consider poisoning him, but ultimately deem it a waste of arsenic.

When all is said and done, you settle for destroying his career, instead.
___________

1997. It was all planned. You'll risk the destruction of your soul to save that of your friend's son. You'll maintain your role as a spy, play your part so absurdly well that even you wonder where your loyalties lie.

On the cold Astronomy tower, with Albus before you and all your once-comrades looking on, you have a moment of doubt. What is the point of all this? Can't you change? Can't you become better? Can you find enough evil within yourself to do what he has asked of you?

"Severus…please…"

Oh, you hate him, that old flash of anger against a world that never fit quite right, against everything he has asked of you before, those tasks intended to mold you into someone "good" and those which, in turn, kept you what you are, and you hate him now for using you.

A flash of green light rips him out of the world just as easily as it did Lily.

(He deserves it, he deserves it for letting her die, for failing you, for trapping you perpetually in this quest for redemption, for making you swear and then breaking his own oath, for being less honorable than you -)

You hate him for leaving you alone with this impossible burden. You hate your own inability to change, but your choice was made long ago: you do it for her. Everything you do is for her. You force yourself to keep breathing because of the debt you owe and pray one day it will be enough.
___________

1998. Your Patronus is still a doe after all this time.
___________

You hate dying like this. It seems so pointless, even if it is for the protection of her son. You aren't leaping in front of a curse to save him, not casting yourself into battle for him. You're bleeding to death from a wound to the neck, on the filthy floor of the Shrieking Shack. Oh, true, it will serve some small purpose…but is it enough? Is your life fair exchange for redemption?

Oh, but it's bad. It's horrifying to know your very life is slipping away, to see it happening and feel powerless to stop it, the slow approach of an army you can't defeat. Death comes for everyone, but why now, why without a good reason, a heroic reason, why so painfully and miserably?

You suppose dying like a man is reserved for those who deserve it. You lived like a dog; it's fitting that you die like one.

The only peace you find lies in Harry Potter's eyes. Her eyes exactly, just as Albus always said. You can almost pretend...
____________

Anatole

You don't know what to make of this place. It's not terrible, you suppose. You could make do, if you had the inclination…and you really do have carte blanche to do whatever you set your mind to now. You think your debts have been repaid and perhaps that your not-quite-life is your own.

If only you didn't feel so rudderless.

Lupin is one of the first to contact you upon your arrival in Anatole, and it's here in this strange city that you come to understand him, if only a little. He presents you with no judgement, no mockery, no recriminations; he is the first to tell you that this is your second chance and all old grudges are laid to rest.

You stand with him at his wedding, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. You know you're standing in for Potter or Black, a poor replacement for Lupin's closest friends.

"Incidentally," he murmurs to you as you wait for his bride-to-be, "had I wanted an imaginary Sirius as my groomsman, I just wouldn't have had any."

You're not friends. This is only a courtesy, a favour, done because he asked out of pity or simply need to have one of his own kind standing beside him today. You're not friends. (But why are you here, then? Why are you doing favours for Lupin?) After a moment of stunned silence, you answer evenly, "You're meant to be standing in respectful silence, waiting for Nymphadora to trip her way down the aisle."

You talk to him about the nature of the human soul. You talk about the past. You talk about philosophy and religion. He…

Forgives you. And perhaps you can do the same for him. It's removed from your own world that you begin to think that people can change after all.

And when he's gone, you grieve for him. You miss him.

Terribly.

He thought you were good person. Maybe you'd like to be.
___________

A month after you arrive, you find that one woman in particular keeps touching your arm and smiling at you in a way that makes you feel slightly dizzy, too young and too old all at once, and for all your snarling and unpleasantness, for all that you're not attractive or kind, she likes you. You can't run her off.

You're not sure you want to run her off.

Oh, but you try. You're still trying eight months later.

"I'll find you." Promises she makes again and again, promises asked of her. It's a nice daydream, to think you might somehow be saved, that she'll remember you, that she'll find you in another time and place, that there is the chance of a life you could love; impossible hopes, but promises she makes nevertheless. You find yourself wanting it too much one night; there has been talk of walking away when you love someone, getting out when the relationship seems poisoned, and the very idea that she wants you to love her only so she can walk away from you makes you reply angrily to that promise, in a tone too silky and mocking to be anything but poisonous, itself, "There will be nothing for you to find save a corpse."

She draws back a hand to slap you. It was the reaction you expected; you braced for it just after the last word came out; it's control of the situation, emotional manipulation and a sense of normalcy because if you can infuriate her, if you can run her off, then she won't leave one day when you haven't braced for that blow. When she stops herself, that angers you, too. It's a battle for control and dominance and she's winning. You want to prove she can lose her temper and hurt you, prove she can sink to your level, so you say something unforgivable: "Can you walk away from a dead man just as easily as the living? Or does it only have meaning if I am breathing when you inflict that particular wound on me?"

And she does slap you then. It doesn't hurt, not much, not the way it should, but you realize almost immediately that this sort of attention isn't what you want from her. You don't need to argue with her or upset her (or hurt her) simply to get her to notice you. She isn't Lily.

You feel like a coward - and, yes, miserably ashamed of yourself.

"Do you think that I want to leave you? Is that what you think? I don't want to leave you. I love you, Severus. I love you so much that it kills me to think of losing you; I love you so much that I've been making plans to try and figure out how to remember you, how to go back in time and save you. You think I'm going to be sick of you but I'm not. Ever."

"Why?" Why? You ask it so often, it's becoming old hat. She never gives you the answer you want because you don't know what answer you want.

"I don't know why I love you, Severus. I don't have a list or a formula, or a single reason that I can point out and go 'aha!' at. I love you because I love you, nothing more and nothing less. I love you because of who you are, in spite of who you are, and I love you for the way you make me feel most of the time. I love you because of the way you saw me, because of the way you tried to avoid me loving you, because you love my stories. I can't give you a more precise reason than this. You keep wanting one, but I don't know what you want me to say. And because I love you, I fight for you, and I always will. But you need to want me, too."

"How can you ask me to want you - or, indeed, love you-" Unthinkable, loving anyone who isn't Lily. Sacrilege. "- if you plan to end it all someday? Why would you bother fighting for me or saving me - or fixing what you perceive to be broken! - if you'll only leave? How can you countenance wishing that emotion on someone if the ultimate result is the willingness to walk away from them? It's..." Cruel. You don't know what's more cruel, though: that she'll fight this hard for you when Lily didn't, or that she'll leave in the end just as Lily did. That losing her might hurt more because you had her when you never had Lily. (You really are a bit of a hypocrite, calling her cruel.)

Eventually, she gives up arguing with you and settles for straddling your lap, pinning you where you are, trapping you so perhaps this time, you'll listen. She tries to reach you with something more than words. And of course you listen. You don't have to decipher actions, reason out why she's here or what she expects: it's obvious when there aren't words getting in the way. You want her; wanting her is enough to drive everything else out of your mind, to make you forget who you are for a just a little while. It's a distraction, a balm, being needed and loved and found desirable. She thinks you have value. It's addictive. It's…

Something good.

You want everything she represents, everything she promises, a life that hasn't been touched by your world (or your misdeeds). She says your name and your mouth twists into the ghost of a smile. She has the most guileless eyes you've ever seen, more strength than you can possibly comprehend, more determination than you'd like. She thinks you're a good man, and when she looks at you in just the right way, when she hangs on every word you say and she smiles that strange smile she gives to no one else, you feel like you might be. You feel like you're someone worthwhile.

You want that lie.

____________

"I'm sorry."

When adults apologize, it's a conditional thing: here is magnanimity, a prideful being deigning to offer something so base as an apology for misdeeds. There is always an attempt to maintain dignity.

You never learned to apologize properly and so you hate doing it. It humiliates you, gives you a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach because you think it's a matter of ridicule, something to be rebuffed, something which can never mend your misdeeds. It's weakness. When you do say the words, they're awkward, genuine, the way a child might beg for forgiveness when it seems as though an apology is the sole way to right a terrible wrong. You rarely offer those words; you give them when they're deserved, when you like and respect the person to whom they're owed, when you realize you've hurt them without meaning to do so.

Suggesting Miss Summers could craft a horcrux from her damaged soul. Cruelties you inflict on Martha because you are…what and who you are. You brace for a lecture, hardening yourself and denying yourself any emotion because what's coming is…

"I forgive you."

"You're forgiven."

You don't know where you went wrong. That isn't how those exchanges are supposed to go.
____________

You tell Lily everything. Admit it all and beg her forgiveness. She slaps you.

You deserved it. But you guiltily, secretly wonder if perhaps you might not deserve what follows.

You tell her you died for her son and she doesn't acknowledge it. Instead, she asks you to say something nice about him. Something nice! Compliment her son, insult to injury after bleeding out for him? Must you like him as well as die for him? The only answer you can give her is that he has her eyes; all the while, you think it's cruel that she should ask that of you, but you feel overwhelming guilt for questioning her.

Twice, you tell her you love her. She ignores you both times and asks you instead to forgive James Potter, questioning why you continue to hold your grudge against him. She asks if you delivered that prophecy to the Dark Lord because you hated her. She shows you memories of how happy she was with him. She rebuffs one hapless advance from you - you are who and what you are, and she is only recently a widow, still in mourning for a husband she loved so well. You know it was wrong of you to even ask if she ever could love you, but…

You had to know.

When you seek out comfort elsewhere, with someone who wants you, who makes you feel too old and too young and wanted and happy, she interferes. She tells you how wrong you are to love her and yet be with another woman. You argue, and when Martha steps in, Lily contacts you privately in an effort to continue the conversation without the former's knowledge. It seems…wrong. Disloyal. But perhaps you oughtn't question her: after all, your redemption is at her discretion. What if she's right?

But soon you hear about her living situation with a man named Rupert Giles. It confuses you; it makes you anxious and irritable. She doesn't want you, but you mustn't be with anyone else. She loves James Potter, and yet she can do as she likes with other men.

You don't understand what she wants of you. You don't understand what standards she holds you to, nor why she mustn't hold herself to the same. Is it a punishment? Would she forgive you for your misdeeds if you were celibate? Are you even allowed to consider concepts like 'consenting adults' and 'enjoying the company of a woman' and 'being happy'?

You don't know how to ask her. She refrains from contacting to you (understandably), and often you instigate vicious arguments with her because at least when you argue, you have her attention. Even if she never explains to you what you must do, she notices you. Your life has some validation. You exist to her, even if only in anger.

You love her, even after all this time.

It's in the midst of one of these arguments that the world as you know it comes to an abrupt halt.

"I used to think you had some goodness in you." She mutters the words as though your goodness is something to be spat upon, dismissed, as though you matter little and are worth even less. Breath, heartbeat, everything comes to a sudden and very abrupt halt. Twenty years ago, you could have endured those words. You could have sneered at her and stalked off to lick your wounds. Now...

Your entire adult life has been an attempt to earn her forgiveness, to prove you are better than what you became at seventeen, to show you have some shred of goodness. You couldn't sleep, read a book, have a conversation without thinking you ought to be doing more, giving more, working longer, fighting harder. You gave all you had. You sacrificed everything to be forgiven. You killed for it. You placed your soul in jeopardy for it. You died for it.

You died for James Potter's child.

"You still do good things, even without doing it for her love or approval. Severus, you've done things here because you are a good man." Yuui and Martha can't possibly understand. But you've never really explained it to them, have you? They don't know how it felt to live all those years in her service, to die for redemption, and to finally be denied it. They don't know the things you've done.

You have no goodness in you. Good people (as they are) can't comprehend how futile it all seems to you in retrospect. Good people don't understand the evil you've done to climb back out of disgrace.

(But the Mist knows.)

"It's quite damning judgement, though, isn't it? When she knows I have lived for nothing else, wanted nothing else but to..." You trail off, unable to bring yourself to feel bitter about it. Just...defeated and tired. The thought occurs that Lily had said it to hurt you, that she knew precisely where to plunge that final knife, and didn't it just serve you right? You handed her the weapon.

And yet.

"If a death can't repay what I did to her, if it can show no…shred of good in me, nothing can. Perhaps my crime was too great."

Maybe some people are beyond redemption.
___________

Nine months. You've been here for nine months. You like this city. Anatole is an easier fit for you than your own world ever was. You have a home, a business, friends, a lover. You made these choices for yourself, wonderful choices, choices for which you feel pride. People trust you. People like you.

You have a good life, but you're ruining it. You can see the house of cards starting to topple, and you're not sure how to stop it.

You think Lily's right and so you stop trying. You stop caring. You stop coping. You fall in and out of old habits, trying to find some place where you fit, where you feel comfortable, where you can live out a second pointless existence. You drive Martha off, then beg for her back again. You push Yuui away, then offer him reproach for doing the same to you. You drive a teenage boy to tears, then apologize two days later. You want to find the friendship you imagine you once had with Lucius, but your shame and pride get in the way and so you keep your distance. You shirk your responsibilities and then grudgingly shoulder them again.

You don't know if you were right or wrong. You don't know what you want. You give up.

Amortentia doesn't have a scent you recognize. Your Patronus doesn't have a corporeal form. You refuse to wield the wand you've carried since you were a child. You lie and say you lost it in the Mist, but it sits on a shelf in your room like an accusation. A taunt. (What wizard denies his own wand? What wizard avoids magic?) There are times when you don't feel anything because you don't want to feel anything. You're tired of hating things. You're tired of remorse and anger. You wanted something else, and now you have nothing at all.

What are you, if not what you've been all your life, if it all had no point?

Who are you? Are you anyone?

And what does any of it matter, anyway? Death has a certain finality to it, and Anatole is just stolen time. You already know your final judgement.

Comments

[Anonymous Text]

[bibliophile_annex]

[Seeing all of it, so stark and bare, hurts. Hermione is a bright girl - undeniably - but this sort of emotional turmoil leaves her utterly speechless. She doesn't know what to say or do.

Yet her mind keeps coming back to one phrase. It's something she has discovered to be true and it's something he needs to remember in order to live. All of his self-hatred and uncertainty will only serve to tear him down and...

He doesn't deserve that. Life isn't meant to be a prison sentence; it's meant to be enjoyed - even if the enjoyment is only shared with a handful of others.

Hands shaking, she frowns and types the following words. She does her best to keep her identity anonymous, but he'll probably know who she is anyway. But that's okay. He can be pretend she didn't say this...

And she can too.]

Forgive yourself. You've done enough.

[Text]

[brewglory]

[A response doesn't come until hours later; Severus has made a habit of leaving his Forge in the workroom when he sleeps in some attempt to avoid just this sort of situation. It isn't until he retrieves it for the day that he sees...

Well. All of this.

How nice of the Forge to put his subconscious dwellings (or, more to the point, nightmares) into chronological order.

He can't even be arsed to be angry about this. Then again, he doesn't feel much of anything lately; the broadcast is met with the same flat stare as most other nuisances these days. Why bother working himself up about it? It's done. It's easier just to skip to the grudging acceptance that all of Anatole now has access to intensely private information. Most of them will forget it all in a month or two, as they forgot about Charity Burbage.

Instead of focusing on the broadcast itself, he turns his attention to the mystery of the anonymous response. He doubts it's Lily. He hasn't spoken with her in months, and this sort of comment wouldn't be in line with her previous assertion. Lucius as a culprit is unlikely; not with that particular piece of advice. Grindelwald knows far too little about him, and Bellatrix would be crowing with amusement. Lelouch, then? Isley? Weasley, perhaps? Doubtful. They have never replied anonymously before. Tonks? No, there's Nymphadora's reply, several minutes later.

Martha wouldn't resort to anonymity. Nor would any of his flatmates.

Who would?

He has an idea (or three), but doesn't want to presume.]

Animal, mineral, or vegetable?

voice;

[bigbad]

And I thought I was love's bitch.

voice;

[brewglory]

[Severus' reply doesn't come until morning, when he retrieves his Forge from the workroom where he thought he could store it and avoid specifically this situation.

Clearly, the Forge is far more tenacious than he anticipated when it comes to leeching personal information from his unconscious mind.

As with Granger, his response is strikingly emotionless: there's really no point in getting worked up. It takes too much energy.]

Eloquent as ever.

private voice;

[slay]

Severus. Your Forge ... [ she can't help but feel like she has to warn him. before she responds, before she points out how awful lily was to him. before she points out how what she did was beyond wrong, no matter what crimes severus had committed. to turn him away, to not find it in her to forgive him, or at least understand and accept that he'd changed. that he was good.

she needs to temper herself. because giles and wesley are fond of her, because they don't see how out of line she can be the way that buffy does and speaking ill of jenny after angel was one thing, but speaking ill of lily when she's done nothing but have a personality that buffy doesn't see as nearly as righteous as she views herself is not nearly so forgivable.

she's never particularly liked lily. she's tried, remained impartial, reasoned out her gut reactions. but now she's sure she can't stand her. ]

private voice;

[brewglory]

[As with his replies to Spike and Hermione, this doesn't come until morning. He has taken to leaving his Forge in his workroom at night to avoid just this sort of thing.

By the time he gets to responding to Buffy, he's been told to forgive himself and that he's love's bitch. "Your Forge" is almost welcome in comparison, though he might have preferred this broadcast not to have happened at all.]

I see it, Miss Summers. Thank you.

[Any other time, he might have sounded curt and somewhat patronizing. Here, he just sounds - and, indeed, feels - quite tired.]

[private]

[wotcher]

He's coming back.

[ Her voice is firm but there is a tiny shred of doubt. Her lips form a thin line and she looks away briefly. No! He will return. ]

[private audio]

[brewglory]

[He isn't sure whether to feel relieved that she hasn't commented on the other, or unhappy that she chose to focus on that. One. Humiliating sentiment.

The audio switches on, but there's a delay as though he's still debating even now whether to respond. He still doesn't quite know what to make of his friendship with Lupin, even now.

Finally, he answers:]

Of course he is.

[Even if not of his own accord: Severus has no doubt Nymphadora will eventually do something stupid to drag Remus Lupin back to Anatole.]

private video;

[feyecandy]

[Strangely, he remembers talking to Syaoran, about hearing that adult-yet-not-adult voice trembling with silent anguish. I had promised myself that I would do anything to save her. No matter what, I would find a way. And because of me, all of you suffered. He had changed the universe for one girl, one person, and because of that, it was possible that he'd caused unimaginable suffering. It wasn't a right or good thing to do; Syaoran was right, it had been unconscionable.

But who wouldn't have done the same? For their most precious person, who wouldn't?

After all Yuui had done and all he'd been forgiven for, after working so hard to forgive himself it was hard to look into Severus and see all that he used to be, all those knots of guilt still tangling up everything inside, causing rips and strain. Severus thought Yuui was a good person. He thought that, and at the same time thought he could never be forgiven.

Yuui had only ever hated one person in his life before. But right now, he felt loathing so fierce and so vile that it made his mouth taste of blood. Not for Lily, although she'd been thoughtless and shallow, a silly girl unable to cope with the feelings of others.

No, his hatred was for Albus Dumbledore, and for what he'd done to this man that he loved.]

We're still here, Severus. We're not leaving simply because you think we should. [Someone had done the same for him. Now it was time to repay it.] And you can't tell me and my brother in one breath that there is no such thing as curses condemning you to be evil, and in the next claim you can never do good. I'm sorry.

private audio

[brewglory]

[As with his other responses, this doesn't come until morning. His habit of locking his Forge in his workroom at night hasn't served its intended purpose of preventing the device from unintentional broadcasts, but it has made it so his evenings - those hours which belong exclusively to one other person - aren't interrupted.

He isn't angry. There's that much to be said.

To be fair, he isn't...much of anything at the moment. Tired, perhaps. Certainly avoiding allowing himself to feel anything at all. But that's nothing new.]

It is not the same, Yuui. Your brother is a child. He has done nothing to earn the accusations he has been given.

Spam for Martha

[brewglory]

[He doesn't want to deal with this, and early as it is, he really doesn't have to. Maybe Martha's still down in his (their?) room, sleeping. He could Go Back to Bed.

Yes, that seems like an excellent idea. When in doubt, retreat.

He turns off his Forge and soon, he's back on the bed. It seems he's caught Martha just in time, and without any explanation, he pulls her close and yanks the covers up over their heads to block out the early morning light creeping in through the windows. When he finally says something, his voice is muffled and toneless.]

I've decided to call it a loss and try again tomorrow.

[Whatever 'it' is, he doesn't elaborate.]

[toldastory]

[Martha had noticed that Severus had gotten up, and she took it as a sign that she should try and go back to sleep for a little while longer, or to at least lay back under the covers and close her eyes for that allusive five more minutes that never seemed to be enough.

Surprised by the way that he pulls her back close, she wraps her arms around him in return, cuddling close to his chest and laying her cheek against it. Martha would have been more willing not to question his statement if there wasn't the toneless way he had spoken it; toneless meant bad things of late, and possibly a receding of him back into his mind as he had before.

With the blankets over their head, it was hard to see his face, so she touched his cheek. In a concerned but sleepy voice she responded quietly, as was befitting a blanket fort:]

What happened?

audio;

[misfortunes_heir]

[Fai hardly understands most of what he's seen. Severus is, after all, a complicated man who has lived a— a complex life. But guilt, Fai understands that, and sorrow. Betrayal he knows only as he knows the Mist; it's everywhere, featureless and deceptive. He would not recognize it if he met it, but Severus' memories handily label everything for the observer, in careful, chronological order.

Forgiveness. Yes, he knows— but something is—

Fai gives up. It's too much, too hard. It's a steep slope, treacherous with obstacles, and he can hardly navigate his own fears and Yuui's. Severus is his friend, he hopes, for what little that counts as, coming from a creature like Fai. He realizes, belatedly, that he's had the button depressed all along and abruptly clears his throat, speaks.]

Severus? Are you alright?

audio;

[brewglory]

[How much could Fai possibly have understood of this broadcast? Severus reviews it in his mind, frowning darkly as his thumb hovers over the Forge's audio button. The murder was straightforward. Would Fai understand any of the whys and wherefores? If a child can't comprehend why certain actions must be taken in the name of good, then are they truly actions which serve the greater good?

And how can he possibly explain this? If he had brought his own children in to the world, would he have been able to explain this all to them? How would he have gone about it?

He doesn't know - but he has let time drag on for far too long without a reply. Perhaps something will come to him. Perhaps Fai won't ask.]

I am. It was...

[He hesitates, then tells a half-truth.]

Only a nightmare, Fai.

Private Audio

[shutupmage]

You're a complete idiot.

I keep telling you that you're a good guy. Seeing all this crap only makes that more obvious. She's not yours. Never was, never will be. Her opinion is shit. You're what and who you choose to be right this fucking second.

[Yeah, he's pissed, because he keeps telling you this and you just...never seem to listen. Seeing all this changes nothing.]

Is this a wizard thing?

Private Audio

[brewglory]

[After he allows himself a moment to scowl into the middle distance, he replies sourly:]

Good morning to you, as well, Kurogane.

[Audio]

[demonologist]

[It's so very much to digest. Some of it extremely painful and private. Wesley doesn't quite know what to say, he doesn't know Snape well enough to be counted as a friend. But to see the parts about Lily, it makes him sympathise keenly with the man. He knows, however, that such affairs of the heart are not meant to be commented upon. Especially not by a mere acquaintance.]

Perhaps, for some of us, this place is an opportunity to be seized upon, not a punishment to be endured.

[Audio]

[brewglory]

[Odd. Those people who have responded have been...well. Close with him.

Wesley is...Wesley.

So replying takes Severus a moment, because he's not sure of the other man's intent. Is this chastisement, or is he trying to offer solidarity? Carefully, he makes the following concession:]

I would not consider Anatole itself to be a punishment.

voice;

[likesavantgarde]

I'm sure you've already been made aware of this recording.

[ a pause... ]

Just because it's not permanent does not mean we shouldn't embrace what we have here.

voice;

[brewglory]

We can attempt to embrace it.

[It's a small concession.]

I assure you: had I not made such an attempt, I would not be living here.

[Video]

[justice_is_blond]

So basically, you love her and you hate her and for some reason you're obsessed with her even though you don't want to be anymore.

...No wonder you're grumpy all the time.

[Audio]

[brewglory]

It would have nothing at all to do with the various peanut galleries attempting to sort out why I am as I am.

video;

[miata]

...oh.

[Again, explaining a lot. She doesn't understand it all; all she knows is that it aches and she doesn't want it to ache. That Snape isn't always a nice man. But he's not that bad either. And he's hurting so much.]

Lupin wasn't always brave, was he? 's hard. To be brave.

[It's easier to talk about Lupin then it is about love. Miata doesn't want to talk about love. Right now, that just hurts.]

audio

[brewglory]

[He's torn between agreeing with her, between making a wry comment about the nature of Gryffindors and how Lupin's defining feature ought to have been bravery...

And speaking on behalf of the man he knew here.

By the time Miata's message arrives, Severus has come to a conclusion or two on his own about dwelling and, if not about letting go, then about entertaining the notion that a future can be impacted by the present. It's not a fully-formed idea yet, but it's enough to influence his response thus:]

There are different forms of bravery.

[It's a diplomatic answer. He can be diplomatic.

He can try, anyway.]

[Private // Voice]

[strategizing]

Even for the Forge, this is a lot.

[Private // Voice]

[brewglory]

I have made a habit of locking the bloody thing in my workroom of an evening in an attempt to avoid...this.

It had an entire night to record as it liked, uninterrupted.

[That's his working theory, and you'd better believe he's choosing to focus on the technical side of things than actual content.]

private video;

[earnedmystripes]

[The Mist certainly chose a fine time to spit him back out--Kotetsu'd had no idea that the mind broadcasts were coming, and when he checks the Forge for distraction when he can't sleep that night for too many racing thoughts, he certainly doesn't expect to see one, much less one with someone's whole life splayed out in detail.

There's a lot here he can't relate to at all--when he'd loved Tomoe, she'd loved him back, and he'd always known he was a lucky man for it. But there's one thing, one detail that sticks out to him, hits a sore place that he's never allowed even Yuui or Barnaby to see. That concern for the judgment of someone who is dead. And Kotetsu is painfully aware--despite that visit from a ghost that might have really been Tomoe in some form--that if the Door ever brings her, she may well be disappointed in what she sees. It's not the same, and he wouldn't dare compare his feelings with what Snape has gone through (and it explains an unfortunate amount about the man's temperament and overall demeanor), but it strikes a chord with him. He wants to say something, to help.

His first instinct, though, is to apologize. To shut off the Forge and leave Snape alone and maybe reconsider the idea of using alcohol to knock himself out, loath as he'd been earlier.

Some minutes later, he finally overcomes his indecision and turns on the privacy filter, speaking gently as he draws on a conversation they had before--one that had helped him give advice to Asellus and sort out some things in his own head.]

For what it's worth. The things you did still hold value on their own, no matter why you did them.

[They might not entitle him to forgiveness, but they've already had that conversation.]

Maybe she'll see that, someday. Even if she doesn't forgive you.

Private Audio

[brewglory]

[There is a firm divide between the answers he gives before his discussions with Buffy and Martha and those he gives after.

It's true, he wasn't particularly fussed about the broadcast save on a very superficial level, didn't still feel that the strange nature of his ninth month in Anatole held entirely true (after all, he has been here for ten months, not nine, and a good deal can happen in a single month.) However, he was never anything but fine.

No one asked save Fai and Lelouch. Everyone assumed. And it irked him: people deigning to assume that they knew how he felt, that they could sympathize or empathize or understand, that they could offer advice. He hadn't realized that telling others "I'm alive" in response to "Are you okay?" was more worrying than saying "no".

The thing is, he is okay. Not great, not his old self, not in tip-top shape, but better. This has been going on for months now, since June. He's better. He's all right. He has just gotten worse at hiding how bad he was in the first place.

And after talking to two women who have some inexplicable vested interest in his well-being, he has determined that he needs to be a bit more communicative about a good many things. He needs to have more obvious control over himself and the decisions he makes. He needs to stop shunting responsibility on to the shoulders of others.]

Much as I appreciate the intended solidarity, Kotetsu, it is wholly unnecessary.

Private / voice

[challenging]

I don't wish to add insult to injury...just...

[is he holding back tears? Suzaku's far too soft-hearted.]

I'm sorry that you didn't have a choice in keeping this to yourself. It's harrowing.

Private / voice

[brewglory]

[He takes a moment to consider this because, after all, the matter of "choice" has come up quite often today.]

It was never a secret.

[Which is true: most of these memories have been discussed, displayed, referenced, and shouted over the network. He had a choice then.]

voice;

[encircled]

[At first, Orsino just backs away from this -- it's much too much, much too personal. Sometimes, painfully, much too familiar.

But for all of that, there are a few thoughts that won't let him go.]

It's too much for one person, my friend.

For you. For this girl.

voice;

[brewglory]

It is over.

[Which is the truth about all of it, really.]

Whether or not it is too much - for either myself or Lily - is a moot point.

[After all, by the time he returns to answering these responses, he has come to a few of his own conclusions. Having his life laid out for him has made him rather painfully aware that he has made a habit of letting others tell him what to do and thus shirking responsibility on a much larger scale than just managing the shop or paying rent.]

[nolessthanseven]

Must be hard, being in love with someone for ages like that.

[there are so many things about this she wants to acknowledge, but she doesn't know what to say. She's met the man once, talked to Gellert about him but briefly, and beyond that? Nothing. It feels like she's intruding, but after watching all that, she can't just say nothing. And even then, she doesn't want to be nasty. She doesn't want to say that she thinks love is stupid for reasons like this, because getting yourself in too deep is just asking for trouble. He's clearly had more than enough of that on his plate in is lifetime.]

[brewglory]

Must it.

[For similar reasons, his own answer is very reserved: giving nothing away and encouraging no further conversation.]

[Video]

[thegreatergood]

You killed someone... That old man...

[Audio]

[brewglory]

[Oh, this? This is not a conversation he wants to have.]

How observant of you.