[Rocket's ears flatten to his skull and he turns away from her, turning a little bit of tech over and over in his hands, feeling every groove and dip in it, until he's sure he'll have it memorized when he actually starts piecing it together with something else.
He doesn't know what's worse- imagining monsters and realizing the monsters were the ones you lived alongside or never even having the opportunity to imagine anything at all. He was born in a cage- if he weren't as clever as he was, he might never have thought there was anything other than cold steel and robotics and the stab of needles and the cut of scalpels and the ache of having things shoved into his body that shouldn't be there.
He just said talking about it doesn't make it better, that it gives people weapons to use against you, but they are more alike than you'd expect a sweet-faced kid from some primitive planet and a fucking freak of nature to be. Crazy goddamn multiverse.]
I know how that goes. I spent the first couple of years of my life in a cage. Not exactly a hostage situation, but it's all the same in the end, right? You're somebody else's property.
[The words stick in his throat and he feels raw and exposed to have even said them. He quickly looks around to see if anyone is listening. People can sometimes get bits and pieces of his life on Half-World out of him, but he doesn't want sympathy and he doesn't want platitudes. If you can't understand what it was like, then you don't need to hear it.]
[ King's Landing was beautiful, the Red Keep was glorious and the southern air was sweet, the clothes stunning... but it had been a cage nonetheless.
she falls silent for a moment, staring quietly into the fire that still dances merrily near them. ]
... they deserved to be lost in the Storm, [ she says finally, quiet and cold. she doesn't specify whether she means the ones who caged him or the ones who took her from her family, but in the end, it matters little. it applies for both, after all. ]
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no subject
He doesn't know what's worse- imagining monsters and realizing the monsters were the ones you lived alongside or never even having the opportunity to imagine anything at all. He was born in a cage- if he weren't as clever as he was, he might never have thought there was anything other than cold steel and robotics and the stab of needles and the cut of scalpels and the ache of having things shoved into his body that shouldn't be there.
He just said talking about it doesn't make it better, that it gives people weapons to use against you, but they are more alike than you'd expect a sweet-faced kid from some primitive planet and a fucking freak of nature to be. Crazy goddamn multiverse.]
I know how that goes. I spent the first couple of years of my life in a cage. Not exactly a hostage situation, but it's all the same in the end, right? You're somebody else's property.
[The words stick in his throat and he feels raw and exposed to have even said them. He quickly looks around to see if anyone is listening. People can sometimes get bits and pieces of his life on Half-World out of him, but he doesn't want sympathy and he doesn't want platitudes. If you can't understand what it was like, then you don't need to hear it.]
no subject
[ King's Landing was beautiful, the Red Keep was glorious and the southern air was sweet, the clothes stunning... but it had been a cage nonetheless.
she falls silent for a moment, staring quietly into the fire that still dances merrily near them. ]
... they deserved to be lost in the Storm, [ she says finally, quiet and cold. she doesn't specify whether she means the ones who caged him or the ones who took her from her family, but in the end, it matters little. it applies for both, after all. ]