[This isn't as bad as he'd expected, so it's not really upsetting or anything, but he's also not super enthusiastic about the critique. Not because he thinks Kyna's wrong, necessarily--in fact he's pretty sure she's right--but because it isn't the point.]
I was making it clear to the new arrivals that I felt strongly about this, so they'd feel safe enough to voice their own concerns. Putting it more gently or hedging how I'd approached things wouldn't have given them confidence that they could speak up and trust me to validate their feelings.
[He'd handled things very purposefully, and it's a frustrating pattern that those here assume he just doesn't understand the consequences of his actions.]
Sure, but you're already pretty much a voice of authority, Lance. You set up this big guide, and you make big network posts laying out the basics and telling people that they can ask you questions. Which is good, but when you start like... feeding into people's frustration so that they don't feel alone or whatever, you're also making it sound like this place is full of uncaring assholes or something. I get that you don't like the safehouse thing, and I get that you don't like Gaby, but they've saved our asses a lot. How many of those new arrivals know that Morningstar gives us monthly stipends, or helps us find jobs? Or feeds us information about the mercenary groups, or help people during disasters?
[She doesn't sound upset or frustrated, but she has shifted a bit so she can look at him more fully. It isn't that she doesn't think he did it purposefully, it's that she still doesn't think it's the right call.]
When you make yourself the information guy who's here to guide people along, and then talk about stuff like that with so much emotion, like no one is listening to you or them and no one wants to listen, don't you think you're feeding into a bunch of scared, angry people being scared and angry, too?
I'm doing the very bare minimum to try to make things easier on people here.
[He doesn't think compiling the guide, or making posts with information, or giving people places to ask questions should constitute making him a voice of authority. Maybe, if it does, that's part of the problem.]
It isn't my responsibility to advocate for Morningstar. And I shouldn't have to put things gently and politely so that people don't get their feelings hurt, especially when the issue itself is a matter of caring about what new arrivals are going through. Sometimes emotion is a necessary part of making things change.
[And he wants to add that part of the reason he hasn't been open about being a psychologist here is that he doesn't want to have to be in that role. He doesn't want to have to be perfectly neutral and placid and patiently validate everyone, especially not when he thinks they're morally in the wrong and won't even consider the possibility that they are. It's exhausting and he'd wanted to have the chance to do something different, although as it turns out this alternative is just as exhausting in other ways.]
But people do care about what the new arrivals are going through. My first night here, Stephen was walking around the safehouse checking on people. And every two weeks, people are bringing food and clothes and stuff, or staying just so people there don't feel alone, or... you know. And I've seen a lot of people say that they want to change the safehouse thing. You kind of made it sound like you're the only one who wants to. Whenever I see you talk about it on the network, there are people who jump in to talk about it with you, like Ren or Sam. I don't even think Clarke is against it, really. She's just... you know. Clarke. She's always obsessing over plans and logistics.
[Maybe it's that Kyna has the benefit of working with Stephen and Clarke every day at Red Wings, but she doesn't think of them as particularly uncaring. Maybe just not very... warm and cuddly.]
[He has arguments for that, some stronger than others, but as he begins to formulate them he changes his mind. What little desire he had to debate this any further is gone, not because of anything she specifically said, he's just so tired of it.
Besides--]
It doesn't matter anyway. I don't think it's something I'm going to be continuing to do anything with.
Because if Gaby decides she doesn't like how I'm going about it, she said she'll pull all support from all the Displaced, and I don't care to risk that.
[He'd expected to find the line, but he hadn't expected it to be a cliff. If it had been just about him, that would've been one thing, but they'd skipped right over that.]
Just let me talk to El, okay? I wanted to ask how this whole thing works. Like, the specifics of setting up the IDs and stuff. I don't think anyone's ever actually asked El if there's a different way to do it.
[He's lost any and all interest in this at the moment, totally drained, though he does still add--]
Clarke mentioned ID scramblers exist. Even if they don't hold up to close inspection, maybe they could be used to generate a fake ID signal that wouldn't attract attention at a brief glance.
[Lance appreciates that she avoids the empathy bond, since he's not at all up for that right now. So he tries to focus on taking some sense of reassurance from both the gesture and her words, but at the moment that's really hard to do.
He does manage a weak attempt at a smile, briefly looking at her when he does so, but then returns to just kind of staring distantly at the floor.]
[Part of him considers arguing that first point, since he's been 'assigned' the safehouse issue and chastised for complaining about it without having already come up with a solution, so he's pretty sure he's indeed supposed to be fixing everything. And that's only just one issue, let alone what he'd been doing with helping Clarke organize things, with letting Gene know he could be on call for the hospital, with the general daily work of trying to help people who've returned from the Aerie, with trying to account for problems that might happen and plan for them so that people don't get caught off guard. There's so much that has to be done.
But he doesn't say any of that, because there's no point, it's just more complaining and he's already been yelled at enough for that. So instead, when Kyna mentions the Aerie, he gives a small shrug and still doesn't look at her, but he does actually give her an answer.]
It wasn't much to talk about. I just had a relatively normal life until I started working against the system, was found out, and ended up dead. Just like at home.
[Just like he'd narrowly avoided in Hadriel, too. And, maybe in a way, like here.]
I'm brushing it off because it just... Wasn't that upsetting. Maybe it should've been, but it wasn't.
[And he means that. His experiences in the Aerie hadn't been pleasant, but they'd been... Distant, almost. And not because of the divide he can mentally make between himself here and himself in the Aerie, but because the Aerie version of himself had been so accepting. Resigned. From the moment he'd decided to use his position as a Shrike to do some semblance of good he'd known what was going to happen to him, and it had only been a matter of when and how, not if.
So being found out, ending up in the quarry, being stabbed, they were all things that version of him had accepted long ago. It wasn't that he hadn't been trying to survive the quarry long enough for the bomb to disrupt it, because he had been, but at there was still a sense of resignation that what would happen would happen.
So it just hadn't been that traumatizing, not in the way the things Lance has experienced in his world, in Hadriel, and here have been. His experiences in the Aerie hadn't made a impact that Lance feels now, at least not on their own merit. But what they had done is remind him of other things he's gone through, and that's what he truly has to deal with.]
I appreciate the concern, but this isn't something a little talking about is going to resolve.
[Because there's so many layers to it and so many intertwined, complicated connections that even thinking about them is exhausting, let alone the idea of talking about them. They'd be there for hours and probably wouldn't even begin making progress.]
[Kyna sighs, pulling her hand away and scooting back a bit.]
Alright.
[She's not sure what else to say. He seems determined not to open up to her, and he's seemed that way since they got back. She's not sure there's anything she can do about it.]
[He isn't really expecting her to accept that answer, and that she does gives him a sudden sense of relief that almost surprises him. It isn't necessarily that he doesn't want to share with her, specifically, just that he's so tired and getting into what's truly bothering him is something he can't really face right now.
So knowing that she cares, but not having to talk right now, is something that helps on its own. He's silent several seconds, letting out a long, quiet breath to try to relax a little, attempting to decide if he's going to bother gathering the energy to try to divert back into something light or he's going to allow himself to just stay in the more dim, sedate state of just existing that feels a lot more appealing.
But as usual, somewhere in the middle prevails, as he does find something he's willing to talk about at least, even if the topic is still serious and his tone comes out more soft and depressed than he intends it to.]
I don't understand why everyone assumes the worst of everything I do.
[He'd get it if he'd just arrived, or if people knew him from nothing but the network. But that isn't the case; he's been involved in almost everything, he's met so many people here, and he's done his best to not just be involved in conflict when necessary but to help with things as much as he can. And yet the moment he says anything that someone doesn't like, it's as if absolutely none of that matters, and it feels so disproportionate that it still catches him off guard every time.]
[Kyna's mouth twists a little at that, mostly because... She doesn't get it. She doesn't see what he's seeing here.]
They don't, Lance. I think the only person here who genuinely doesn't like you here is Akechi, and that's... Akechi. I've seen people disagree with you, and sometimes they're jerks about it, but there's also always people who like... Immediately jump to your defense or sing your praises. I think people are willing to defend you more than they're willing to defend most people.
Being jerks when disagreeing is what I'm talking about.
[Mostly, anyway.]
I don't care if people disagree; I mean, it's frustrating, especially since I'm not usually arguing about something I think I'm wrong about, but people are allowed to disagree. It's just that it goes into some sort of personal jab so often.
[So often that some of the insults and insinuations are ones he's been afraid might actually be true, even if he doesn't feel like they are.]
I think that's why people feel the need to step in, too.
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I was making it clear to the new arrivals that I felt strongly about this, so they'd feel safe enough to voice their own concerns. Putting it more gently or hedging how I'd approached things wouldn't have given them confidence that they could speak up and trust me to validate their feelings.
[He'd handled things very purposefully, and it's a frustrating pattern that those here assume he just doesn't understand the consequences of his actions.]
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[She doesn't sound upset or frustrated, but she has shifted a bit so she can look at him more fully. It isn't that she doesn't think he did it purposefully, it's that she still doesn't think it's the right call.]
When you make yourself the information guy who's here to guide people along, and then talk about stuff like that with so much emotion, like no one is listening to you or them and no one wants to listen, don't you think you're feeding into a bunch of scared, angry people being scared and angry, too?
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[He doesn't think compiling the guide, or making posts with information, or giving people places to ask questions should constitute making him a voice of authority. Maybe, if it does, that's part of the problem.]
It isn't my responsibility to advocate for Morningstar. And I shouldn't have to put things gently and politely so that people don't get their feelings hurt, especially when the issue itself is a matter of caring about what new arrivals are going through. Sometimes emotion is a necessary part of making things change.
[And he wants to add that part of the reason he hasn't been open about being a psychologist here is that he doesn't want to have to be in that role. He doesn't want to have to be perfectly neutral and placid and patiently validate everyone, especially not when he thinks they're morally in the wrong and won't even consider the possibility that they are. It's exhausting and he'd wanted to have the chance to do something different, although as it turns out this alternative is just as exhausting in other ways.]
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[Maybe it's that Kyna has the benefit of working with Stephen and Clarke every day at Red Wings, but she doesn't think of them as particularly uncaring. Maybe just not very... warm and cuddly.]
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Besides--]
It doesn't matter anyway. I don't think it's something I'm going to be continuing to do anything with.
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[He'd expected to find the line, but he hadn't expected it to be a cliff. If it had been just about him, that would've been one thing, but they'd skipped right over that.]
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[He's lost any and all interest in this at the moment, totally drained, though he does still add--]
Clarke mentioned ID scramblers exist. Even if they don't hold up to close inspection, maybe they could be used to generate a fake ID signal that wouldn't attract attention at a brief glance.
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[She reaches out to loop her fingers around his wrist, squeezing gently in lieu of taking his hand and activating the empathy bond.]
We'll figure something out, okay? You know I'm always here for you, right?
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He does manage a weak attempt at a smile, briefly looking at her when he does so, but then returns to just kind of staring distantly at the floor.]
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Hey, you know you don't have to fix everything, right? You're all over the place all the time, and we haven't really even talked about...
[She trails off awkwardly, squeezing his wrist again.]
We haven't really talked about what it was like for you in the Aerie. And I'm not saying we have to, but...
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But he doesn't say any of that, because there's no point, it's just more complaining and he's already been yelled at enough for that. So instead, when Kyna mentions the Aerie, he gives a small shrug and still doesn't look at her, but he does actually give her an answer.]
It wasn't much to talk about. I just had a relatively normal life until I started working against the system, was found out, and ended up dead. Just like at home.
[Just like he'd narrowly avoided in Hadriel, too. And, maybe in a way, like here.]
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[And he means that. His experiences in the Aerie hadn't been pleasant, but they'd been... Distant, almost. And not because of the divide he can mentally make between himself here and himself in the Aerie, but because the Aerie version of himself had been so accepting. Resigned. From the moment he'd decided to use his position as a Shrike to do some semblance of good he'd known what was going to happen to him, and it had only been a matter of when and how, not if.
So being found out, ending up in the quarry, being stabbed, they were all things that version of him had accepted long ago. It wasn't that he hadn't been trying to survive the quarry long enough for the bomb to disrupt it, because he had been, but at there was still a sense of resignation that what would happen would happen.
So it just hadn't been that traumatizing, not in the way the things Lance has experienced in his world, in Hadriel, and here have been. His experiences in the Aerie hadn't made a impact that Lance feels now, at least not on their own merit. But what they had done is remind him of other things he's gone through, and that's what he truly has to deal with.]
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Okay.
[It doesn't feel like this is a way to dodge the question, so she believes him.]
But you haven't been doing well. For a while, I mean.
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[This time he is dodging the topic, but it's also a truthful statement.]
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[She says it gently, but a little prodding.]
Right now I'm worried about you.
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[Because there's so many layers to it and so many intertwined, complicated connections that even thinking about them is exhausting, let alone the idea of talking about them. They'd be there for hours and probably wouldn't even begin making progress.]
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Alright.
[She's not sure what else to say. He seems determined not to open up to her, and he's seemed that way since they got back. She's not sure there's anything she can do about it.]
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So knowing that she cares, but not having to talk right now, is something that helps on its own. He's silent several seconds, letting out a long, quiet breath to try to relax a little, attempting to decide if he's going to bother gathering the energy to try to divert back into something light or he's going to allow himself to just stay in the more dim, sedate state of just existing that feels a lot more appealing.
But as usual, somewhere in the middle prevails, as he does find something he's willing to talk about at least, even if the topic is still serious and his tone comes out more soft and depressed than he intends it to.]
I don't understand why everyone assumes the worst of everything I do.
[He'd get it if he'd just arrived, or if people knew him from nothing but the network. But that isn't the case; he's been involved in almost everything, he's met so many people here, and he's done his best to not just be involved in conflict when necessary but to help with things as much as he can. And yet the moment he says anything that someone doesn't like, it's as if absolutely none of that matters, and it feels so disproportionate that it still catches him off guard every time.]
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They don't, Lance. I think the only person here who genuinely doesn't like you here is Akechi, and that's... Akechi. I've seen people disagree with you, and sometimes they're jerks about it, but there's also always people who like... Immediately jump to your defense or sing your praises. I think people are willing to defend you more than they're willing to defend most people.
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[Mostly, anyway.]
I don't care if people disagree; I mean, it's frustrating, especially since I'm not usually arguing about something I think I'm wrong about, but people are allowed to disagree. It's just that it goes into some sort of personal jab so often.
[So often that some of the insults and insinuations are ones he's been afraid might actually be true, even if he doesn't feel like they are.]
I think that's why people feel the need to step in, too.
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