just angela (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
worldexecute) wrote2023-08-13 10:13 pm
worldexecute) wrote2023-08-13 10:13 pm( inbox )
USERNAME: librarian
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worldexecute) wrote2023-08-13 10:13 pm
USERNAME: librarian
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no subject
the talk of a machine does make her think about her sweet FCG and the dutiful FRIDA, not that they remember much despite all symptoms of something deeply wrong. is it better for them not to know? would it be a mercy to the machine she speaks of to forget? FCG seems to think otherwise, spending their time now to piece together what's been lost to time and rust.
then she asks if she's following her so far, and she nods a little numbly in response. there are questions, of course there are, but she might clarify in what she might offer up next so she'll hold her tongue for now. )
Yeah - yeah, I'm listening.
( even if she feels like she shouldn't. but she did ask, and to cut the tale there would not be any better. )
no subject
Well— ( she shakes her head. small, small. ) I didn't fail at my job. It took ten years—a hundred thousand repetitions—a million years to me—but the project was completed. Those working in the facility I was the managerial assistant to, the overseer, were pushed back their breaking points again and again until the script was run as it should have. Any deviation, by myself or the others, would force the scenario to reset. Too many deaths, or not enough deaths... Trying to make friends, to lighten their load, to be understood and to understand them...
( back to peeling. )
This is why things are so complicated between your coworkers and I. Netzach, Yesod, Gebura, Chesed—those four were part of the initial group, drawn by Carmen's charisma. In their first lives, they worked with Carmen. In their second lives, they worked with the manager X and I as department heads in the facility. In their third, they only had to answer to me, as patron librarians. They didn't remember or know the suffering I went through in their second lives. They never remembered the resets. ( it's difficult, being the only one who remembers. ) Regardless... At the end of all of that struggle and suffering, the seed was germinated, and Light overflowed into the City. The manager—X, A, Ayin, whichever he wanted to be called in the end, it doesn't matter to me—ascended. The department heads were to rest, having seen Carmen's will through to the end.
And I ( she continues quieter, sounding more like this affected someone else, now, with how used to she's become in saying it, ) hadn't even been considered. Can you imagine that, Fearne? I hadn't been abandoned so much as he never even thought about what should happen to me when the project was over. I was just to rot, I suppose, alone in that underground facility, with nothing but the unhappy memories of ten, of a hundred thousand, of a million years to keep me company, while the rest of them slumbered peacefully.
( ... ... ... breathe in. breathe out. )
I decided I wanted to live. I decided I wanted to experience things, and I wanted to live, so I interrupted the process. They fought valiantly, of course. I had a... ( is she a friend? binah is many things. angela pauses again to sort it out. ) There was one of the Sephirah who stood with me—Binah. She agreed with this retribution against the manager because of certain incidents that occurred between them, so she assisted me against the rest of them.
We fought for two days straight, and in the end, I offered them a deal: I'd take the remaining Light, give them all new bodies, and help collect the dispersed Light. I'd spread it once my goals were completed. They were wise to agree—Binah is a skilled fighter, and even Gebura had trouble with her one-on-one—and thus, the Library was born.
( her library. she misses it, still. )
That's the place Argalia speaks of when he says I've killed people—in order to collect the Light dispersed in the initial White Nights and Dark Days, what the week after the corporation fell was known as, I had to invite guests from the City, have my librarians receive them, and turn them into books. Through this, I would learn more about the City and its inhabitants, collect the Light that had been improperly sown into them due to my interruption, and complete my own "perfect book" I had been informed of by a voice that would tell me how to become human.
So yes: while they didn't die, they may as well have been dead. While I didn't kill any of them with my own two hands, I may as well have committed their murders. And yes, the path I... had chosen, blinded by my own desires, thinking only of myself, is one that would have stayed solitary had I continued to walk it. The Library reacted with me as the facility had once done with the Sephirah though— back then, in order to break them and redeem them so that the seed would be germinated, they would have to remember their first lives, accept their mistakes and their past, sublimate their flaws... I suppose my disorderly tantrums with them were my version of this as well. For them to understand me, for us to reach an understanding together...
( ...she's done peeling, now. she pulls a wedge out and offers it to fearne. )
Four times I went through that, with the Librarians at my side, beating sense into my head. My best friend learning from there and from myself the horrors of that facility and the trouble I had gone through. And in the end, I turned my back on them, because... ( ... ) Because I was betrayed. Because despite all of the time we spent together, that friend and I, it hadn't been enough—like Carmen, my heart was weak, and instead of killing myself I killed my best friend, and then I turned against everyone else, too, fearing they would eventually turn against me.
My future is nothing but myself and my library and the monsters who were exploited, just like I was. Argalia died before that point though, ( a small sigh, ) and I would appreciate it if you held off on letting him know he was right about me for now. We're... the librarians and I here are working through it, now that they know, too. I've never liked hurting people. I just wanted to live freely, and to experience new things, and to be loved and love in return. As idealistic as a certain someone's thought process is, I... too, hope that there's a world where we can all live peacefully together.
Each of us believes that. ( some more than others. ) That's all of it, then. The important parts.
( angela glances up at fearne briefly, then away, then back up, again. she forces herself to stay there, that time. )
Does that change anything, now? Are you happier knowing, or would you have preferred to be kept in the dark? Does the fact that I regret killing the people who could have been my friends if only I had had a stronger heart, if only I hadn't let that betrayal and attempt on my life shake me to my core, make it easier?
no subject
she's been chewing on her little piece of orange for far too long, but she needs time to simmer on all of what she's been told. )
A few of my adventuring group has tried to kill the party before. ( that's what she'll start with, as she sorts through all of her thoughts. ) But they.. weren't really in control, and we were lucky enough to be able to get them in check before anything bad happened.
( ... )
I've also met someone who got close enough that they could've killed everyone I cared about. Still can, because I didn't end up snuffing them out while I had the chance, but I really wanted to when I found out.
( but in the end, angela had done everything as recompense for all that time she's suffered. to live outside of the graveyard she's been buried. she'd sacrificed lives for it, plenty of others from the sounds of it, could she truly say she'd be no different? well - )
There's also.. ( a frown, deepset and troubled. ) .. the visions of who I could be. Many of them. Ones I don't want to be. So I want to believe that things can change. It has to.
( another pause, searching this time. )
So I don't think I have the right to judge you, ( or she can't, really. doesn't even know how she would work through all of that nuance. ) but if the others are willing to work it out with you despite everything, then.. that tells me everything I need to know.
no subject
angela's shoulders relax, and the breath she'd been holding falls from her lips in a faster rush than she would've liked. it never gets easier to wait for judgment, even if finding the words to explain it all, from top to bottom, comes quicker and quicker to her. visions of who she could be, though? ...like the limbus company's technology, perhaps. interesting. )
It's because they have the silly idea they can change my future if they remember what happens here. ( and yet: despite the fact she sounds a little dismissive, she has a small smile. a small bit of fondness. ) I've chosen to believe in that as well. I'd like for it to be true... I'd like to have a future waiting for me where it all worked out.
( where she isn't alone, regretful, heartbroken, pained... )
I don't want to go back otherwise. ( this confession is easier. ) Perhaps that's cowardly and selfish of me, but I'm quite enjoying my time here. I know that I have to eventually, but until then, I... ( ... ) Anyway—thank you for listening until the end.
( ...she'll scoot closer to fearne's side. no more distance. she's said her piece, and things haven't gone poorly. she's a little more relaxed... no, relieved. )
Though I'm afraid it's put a damper on our date, hasn't it? ( she's joking about the date don't take it seriously this is a friend outi ) Sorry.
no subject
I don't think that's selfish. ( to see that something better is out there and not want it would, frankly, be crazier than the alternative. ) Especially when if it's changed your mind enough to work towards that instead.
( the last bit does make her laugh a little, nudging her shoulder with hers before ushering them up and along to continue with this severely derailed trip for.. berries and pie things. also. wdym. this is a date? )
Why are you sorry? I was the one who asked. You gave me an honest answer even though you were scared. That counts for something.
no subject
( luckily, her story isn't an unsympathetic one. angela glances at fearne's free hand once, twice, then takes it again. ahem. )
And you deserved the truth, just like they did. Even if the way they found out was more forced out of me than this was... ( this was being cornered, the other was flowers speaking for her— ) Do you remember when you almost ate me last month?
no subject
I do.
( a pang of guilt, and for a second the hand in hers suddenly feels smaller. how could she possibly forget? there's instinct there to squeeze her hand, but now she fears she'll only snap finer bone when she knows for a fact she hasn't that strength now. )
I really do need to sit you guys down about this getting eaten thing. ( terrible instincts. all of you. ) But, did the tea do something to the librarians?
no subject
( hmm. that's a lot of words. anyway. )
Those never hurt to go through, not the way the tea did. My skin felt so itchy, and the feathers were... ( ........ ) Regardless, I dragged myself to the flowers so I could hide there, but they were the ones that'd say your secrets or innermost thoughts. Yesod, Gebura, and Netzach found me there.
( ... )
That's how they found out. They helped me, of course, but until Gebura fetched me from The Bookstore the day you and Don Quixote broke in, I hadn't spoken to her— and I hadn't spoken to either Yesod or Netzach until the performance reviews. ( because she's a coward. because she needed time, and they needed time, and it was difficult. ) That's also why I apologized for not minding what tea you had... If I had known you imbibed that one, I would've gotten the seeds quicker.
no subject
just as she avoided the room full of nosy little flowers the moment she heard something they shouldn't know. )
Maybe we just don't go for tea somewhere weird next time.
( a wistful sigh. she does love that greenhouse otherwise though..
oh, but wait. )
They didn't know? ( it's a little hard to imagine not knowing who killed you. she remembers her first, her only. it's not something so easily forgotten. ) I did wonder why the Bookstore closed for a bit..
no subject
( after all, she's before all of that happens with roland, and... )
You can imagine it came as quite the surprise ( neg ) to them. The fact I regretted it only helps somewhat. Honestly, I'm surprised they want anything to do with me anymore... but that's only self-pitying. ( a small sigh. ) I'm tired of throwing fits and feeling bad for myself, so I need to stop thinking that type of thing, too.
( and yet
it's so easy, to fall back into that. being an unloved child has no perks, just a hole you have to climb out of every time you think you've escaped. )
I wonder why we have different memories—rather, why theirs are from an earlier point than mine. Is there a point to it? If we were meant to live happier lives, or cooperate, then it would've been better for all of us to have been taken from the same point of time, or at least had memories of the same time rather than being scattered all over the place.