Greg Universe (
panspermia) wrote in
interstellar55552016-06-22 04:26 pm
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Entry tags:
I'm in the autumn of my years
Who: Greg Universe and any Rescuers
What: who's this asshole
When: June 18
Where: The Rescuers' ship
Warnings: trauma and PTSD
If Greg has a reaction to entering a massive alien guitar spaceship, he keeps it to himself. Between the drama of the ritual, the return of his maimed soul, and his haphazard rescue, he simply has too much to process first before he can take in the rest of the rescuer operation. As a result, first thing he does is find a small, empty room--a bathroom--and ask to be left alone for a while.
An hour or so later, a very different man emerges again.
It hadn't been his first intention in locking himself in that room, but the longer he'd been in there, the more necessary it had felt. Greg hasn't felt like himself in a very long time. The worst of it was the result of Blanche's meddling with his soul, yes, but it extended before that point as well. The face of his youth, the one Blanche used and tried to make into a different person altogether... Greg couldn't keep looking at that face anymore. It hurt too much, made him too sick. Adding a few years on to his appearance and a beard isn't going to fix it, either; he's not the same person he used to be, either. (After all, he did keep the hair.) But this is better, closer than before. Whoever he is now, this is about as close as he's willing to get.
Greg Universe emerges into the ship, avoiding eye contact, and finally begins to take things in.
What: who's this asshole
When: June 18
Where: The Rescuers' ship
Warnings: trauma and PTSD
If Greg has a reaction to entering a massive alien guitar spaceship, he keeps it to himself. Between the drama of the ritual, the return of his maimed soul, and his haphazard rescue, he simply has too much to process first before he can take in the rest of the rescuer operation. As a result, first thing he does is find a small, empty room--a bathroom--and ask to be left alone for a while.
An hour or so later, a very different man emerges again.
It hadn't been his first intention in locking himself in that room, but the longer he'd been in there, the more necessary it had felt. Greg hasn't felt like himself in a very long time. The worst of it was the result of Blanche's meddling with his soul, yes, but it extended before that point as well. The face of his youth, the one Blanche used and tried to make into a different person altogether... Greg couldn't keep looking at that face anymore. It hurt too much, made him too sick. Adding a few years on to his appearance and a beard isn't going to fix it, either; he's not the same person he used to be, either. (After all, he did keep the hair.) But this is better, closer than before. Whoever he is now, this is about as close as he's willing to get.
Greg Universe emerges into the ship, avoiding eye contact, and finally begins to take things in.
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Her question, however, does a slightly better job bringing him back to earth. His older face does a better job showing how tired he feels.
"I'm not sure. All the things I said, the way I acted... that might not have really been me, but I..." He shivers, feeling ill again. Her warmth can't cut through all of the chill. "It's hard to have that person inside me."
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"You do not," she said, looking into his eyes as if she could stare straight into his soul. To a certain extent, she could, after all. "That was who you are when you were removed, after all. You cannot be that person so long as you are yourself."
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"I...I know." Logically, anyway. It's harder to truly believe when all the memories are fresh and present. "I... Blanche used someone with my face and voice to hurt people. Maybe he wasn't me, but... people don't know that." He holds her hand tight. "I want to make things right."
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"Dirty," she finally concluded.
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"Hey. At least it's not stained."
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He shakes the image away, and starts shuffling down the hall, hand still in hers. "Wwwell, let's hope this is the kind of space ship that bothers with showers."
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"It's still kinda hazy, the further back I go. I think it's because a lot of it is the same as the fake stuff they made up for me. I was touring as a one-man band, I don't think I'd seen my family in..." He shakes it off. Dwelling on that part of it too long makes it harder to tell what's real and what isn't. That's not what Meril wants to hear about.
"But, then Rose showed up at my concert. She was the only one there, but... I guess... she was the only audience I needed." His pace slows, and he holds Meril's hand tight. This is strange to talk about with her, for a lot of reasons, but she ought to know. "I pretty much gave up music after that. Professionally, anyway. Me and Rose were always together after that point, up until Steven was born."
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Her second comment reminds him of the present, however, and the grin turns wry. "Ahh, well, not completely. Always had my guitar on hand, taught a few lessons to local kids, you know. Just got downgraded from a job to a hobby." He chews his cheek. "Seems now like that was the right way to go."
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"I would like to hear about her, if you are willing to tell me. I know it might be hard. But you at least should not worry about me; I am not jealous." She lifted her free hand to sanctify the statement as a vow. How could she be?
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Greg smiles at Meril, soft and tired, and hesitates for a moment longer--simply because it's so hard to know where to begin.
"Rose... she was... she was so kind, and curious. She'd been living with humans for thousands of years, but she was always eager to learn more." He closes his eyes. "She found beauty in the smallest things. After crossing galaxies and fighting in wars... she had so much love for life, and everything alive."
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Her bindings had shattered, her memories had returned -- and in this case, she did not mean the ones that coming here had suppressed. No longer a mere tool, her empathy and compassion had returned. Odin would be... displeased.
"I am beginning to suspect you have a type, Greg."
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Greg turns to her, brow faintly furrowed. "When we first got together... I barely remembered anything about her. I thought the two of you couldn't be less alike." Neither of them knew of Meril's origins by that point, but there was far more to it than that.
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