ellectrical | (no subject)

(no subject)

There's been a lull just long enough for Elle to grow restless. If anything good came out of being so exhausted so much of the time, it was that it had kept her occupied.

So to cure this newfound energy, she's turned to practicing. She's had plenty of opportunity to train with her abilities, however – the one thing she doesn't have to do anymore is run away. And as she'd been reminded, she could stand to be faster.

Jogging, it turns out, works to make her physically exhausted. But when collapses, still panting, close to the shoreline of the lake, her mind is still as loud as it was before.

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There are a few threads to that, but Elle jumps to one that isn't so self-centered.

"She thinks -"

Elle stops, and when she speaks again, it's a little more quickly, like she's not being quite so careful with her words.

"She doesn't want people to use her. But she thinks about it - differently than I do."

Sam blinks.

"How do you mean?"

"She thinks - you can stop it."

Elle folds her arms.

"Like if she - fixes this, it won't happen."

"And you don't believe that?" he guesses.

She looks down again.

"Maybe it's true for her."

But then, Elle starts to shake her head. "I don't think it is -"

He doesn't interrupt, but instead listens in silence, an inquiring expression on his face.

Elle presses her hands to her face, stilling for a moment, before -

"I think - she thinks this will fix it, because it - she knew it was wrong."

She lowers her hands, breathing slowly, still following this path in her mind.

"Even back when she didn't know - that it was all wrong. It wasn't just that - everything they did to her was wrong. But she knows this, and she can fix it.

"But that's not - it's not the only way people can use you."

"Do you think she doesn't know that?"

It's an honest question.

"She doesn't know what it's like - when you're wrong about someone else. And I think -"

Elle's been looking at the ground, but her eyes come up as she speaks. "- she thinks she just - won't be."

"She's got pretty good instincts," Sam says, slowly. "But I see what you're saying. Nobody's perfect."

"The way she feels about people," she answers, "- it's the same way everyone else does.

"And sometimes we're wrong."

Sam starts to speak, then hesitates.

"... are you saying in general, or in particular?"

She glances away again. "I'm saying she's never been wrong before. So I don't know if she knows she can be."

"Don't take this wrong, but have you asked? I mean, if she's so sure, did she tell you why?"

This actually gets a smile, though it's utterly mirthless.

"I said she's like us. And sometimes we care about people even if - we know - "

Her expression slips, and Elle shakes her head again.

"And I think I - have to help her."

It stops him, because she's right. Absolutely right.

Sam smiles, a little.

"You're a good friend, Elle."

Elle doesn't look comforted at this.

Instead, she looks away, and answers quietly, "It's what she needs me for.

"She has - other people. For normal things."

(This may be one of Elle's more self-centered concerns.)

Edited 2013-08-10 05:11 (UTC)

"Normal things," he repeats, and shakes his head.

"I guess you've got that right. Sometimes it's the abnormal that's harder, though."

"Yeah. I'm good for it."

It's not like she doubts that.

"But it -"

She folds her arms again, though this time with her hands on her shoulders, like an embrace.

" - I try to fix what's wrong because of - what we are. And then she can do - normal things with the others. But I'm done."

After a beat, Elle blinks up to him. Slowly, "You're not the same as me. But you said you were different too. So you - feel different?"

Sam opens his mouth, but nothing comes out at first.

"Um."

He shifts his weight.

"You mean - do I feel different from other people? With normal lives?"

She nods, her movements just a little shaky.

Quiet, "Sometimes - I see them. I can see them. But it's like I'm - looking through a window. Even if I can see them, I feel like there's this glass and I can't -"

Her eyes fall. "I know I won't be like them. Not really."

He slows his steps further, walking beside her in silence for a few moments.

"Did I ever tell you that I went to Stanford? Or, well, tried to go to Stanford?"

Her steps fall in line with his.

"That's a school..."

She's reasonably certain, anyway.

"Yeah. It's a university, in California." A flicker of a smile appears and is gone in almost the same moment. "I had a scholarship."

"See, the thing is... I didn't want to be a hunter. I was gonna leave it all behind, be a lawyer, live a normal life."

"You could be normal," she answers, though her voice is uncertain, like she's guessing it's what he means to say.