“no, no, no, no, no.”   a symphony of sobs cascade from her lips, hands resting on her knees. her throat is becoming raw from the screams and sobs, specks of blood covering her knuckles from smashing them against the concrete moments prior. her armor is heavy but her heart is heavier, tugging her chest down towards the ground. her gaze can’t lift — there’s a part of her that wants to look up at ikora, just for her to see the tears threatening to slip from her eyes. but she doesn’t. this isn’t her fault. this isn’t anyone’s fault; that’s part of being a guardian, right? resurrection. (fucking uldren sov.) he was like a cockroach; a bullet to the head wasn’t enough to keep him buried. no, it would never be enough. 

when she feels a hand linger on her shoulder, she finally tilts her head upwards, eyes landing on the warlock. she tries to catch her breath before speaking.   “cayde — i,”   cresora pauses before fingers wipe the scorching tears underneath her eyes. her lips tremble, mouth searching for the words she wants to speak into existence. her vision is red and blurry, a hybrid of the anger boiling inside her. vengeance already consumed her once; does she dare let it consume her again? only time will tell. 

let’s clear one thing clear: i know i shouldn’t be doing this. i shouldn’t be talking to this douchebag, beck. he doesn’t get you. when you talk to him, there’s no joy there; his eyes don’t light up like mine would, and you know it! i would listen to everything you say, because guess what? i care, unlike this asshole. the only reason i’m doing it is because you invited me to one of peach’s parties, only for me to bump into him. (you invited me strictly as a friend, because you still want to ride his dick like a merry-go round. that’s going to change.) 

he’s drinking a beer; even if it wasn’t in his grasp, i would be able to smell it on his breath. i swear, there’s some white shit underneath his nose too   —   you didn’t tell me your boyfriend was a cokehead either, beck. god, you’re really making me do all your dirty work for you, aren’t you? but that’s fine   —   i don’t mind, especially if it’s for our future. it feels like i’m an A-B-C-D check-box away from splitting the difference me and your boyfriend; i want you to be clinging to my arm, showing me off to your friends   —   he doesn’t. he rather hide out in the kitchen because guess what: i think he knows he’s not good enough for you. believe it or not, i am. i will treat you the way you deserve to be treated   —   i won’t drown myself in beer and hope you’ll get scooped up by some other random dude. (i can read his face; he’s fantasizing about walking in on you with another dude, just to have a reason to call it quits. he’s pathetic. i’m not.)

“hey, man.”   god, i want to kill him. i want to grab one of the knives behind him and shove it into his chest, but i won’t. i can’t, not right now. instead, you have a shot, luke   —   i’m giving you a shot to walk away! to leave beck alone and not make her life a living hell. because guess what, if she stays with you, her life will be a living hell. she’ll wind up marrying you and one day, in a fit of anger because you don’t love her enough, question what went wrong before becoming one of those desperate housewives wannabes. (to be fair, i wouldn’t mind being the pool-boy she calls over every so often. but that’s besides the point   —   i don’t want to be the pool-boy, i want to be hers.)

it’s always felt like this.  dumb girl, planet savior.  heart-of-fucking-gold.  so determined to keep everyone else alive she’ll die for them without a second thought.  there’s burns on her fingers from when she burnt the tree down, there’s scars on her shoulders and neck from an explosion trying to get early nanobots to work.  her lips purse, hands awkwardly by her sides.  always on the outside.  like she’s looking in on everyone, like they’re all in a play and everyone else has their lines but she doesn’t.  like there’s something deep rooted inside of her and growing and growing.  her mouth filled with something so soft and sweet - like honeysuckle.  ❛ if you ever change your mind, let me know. ❜  it’s tender, too much so for someone so unfamiliar.  intimacy on one part and something rotten in the other.

maybe it will always be like this.  justification and reworking, always begging for understanding.  that the inheritance of the earth belongs to roaming deer, the ocean to the great whales and the sky to the vast eagles.  she’ll let her body rot amongst the moss and decay slowly in a pond, mildew covering her bones.  her skin blooming like algae.  humanity will be long gone, only those who came before and after surviving.  hopefully soon.  ❛ would you rather live in a barren wasteland? you’re more than capable of surviving in a scorched earth where the ocean is filled with plastic and all life but you is dead and the ozone has been ripped to pieces but would you truly want to? somewhere ugly and rotten, void of anything but dust and sand? wouldn’t you rather live in a world with vibrant skies and green grass? with fresh water and animals running free? humanity might benefit from my actions but it’s not for them. it’s for the whales and the wolves, it’s for the polar bears i want to bring back from the dead. it’s for every species of dying bee and extinct animal.  i understand your dislike and distrust of humans but what has an animal ever done to you?  what has a bee ever done to harm you?  nothing.  you were built to feel.  surely you take some joy in bird song, in watching sea lions bake in the sun?  they deserve it.  humanity might not be worth saving but they are. ❜

she prides herself on being a good listener   —   she always listens. it’s how she got her job at the detroit city police department, it’s how she was able to lead a revolution of androids fighting for their freedom; she listened to everything. saying she’s not intrigued would be a blatant lie  &  by the way she cocks her head as elisabet speaks, listening to every single syllable, she hopes it sends the message across.  &  for a moment, she almost buys it. she almost buys the monologue about saving the various other life forms, the ones who haven’t done a single thing wrong besides their existence. it’s synonymous to androids. they were always put against the odds  &  yet, here someone was, taking an interest in them. not her own people, but them. it was refreshing  &  yet, every wall north was beginning to tear down for the woman is built right back up when the mention of her distrust is included. it’s enough to make her scoff, head shaking at the woman’s words. 

showing up at her home unannounced wasn’t the best approach. he’s well aware of this  &  if it were other circumstances, he would have made more a professional effort. it doesn’t stop him, though. there’s not much of anything that can stop him from getting what he wants  &  yeah, this is something he needs. theodor faro   —   ted faro, the bastard. he’s a smart man, one all about business  &  homelander can respect that. what he can’t respect is tossing robots into the military. fucking robots. it’s comical  &  if homelander wasn’t in this position, he would be dying of laughter because it’s fucking funny. the united states government depending on war robots to defend the country. (aren’t we fucking doomed!) but no; he’s not a normal civilian with a nine-to-five job who’s dying on the inside, hating their life before shoving the tip of a shotgun into the mouth  &  pulling the trigger. he’s homelander   —   the leader of the seven, the greatest superhero, the man who is here to save everyone! how the hell is he supposed to save everyone if the stupid fucking robots are going to do it beforehand? 

he’s tried talking to vought about it, but as usual, they wag their fingers  &  tell him to stay put. (we don’t need the media on our asses right now.) excuses, excuses, excuses. that’s all they were ever good at. looks like he was going to have to take matters into his own hands, which is exactly what he did. showing up at doctor elisabet sobeck’s home unannounced. ex - chief scientist of faro automated solutions who is currently drowning in lawsuits. maybe they can help each other if she wants to play along. he wastes no time knocking on her door, plastering the boy scout appearance on his face, ready to find out the answer. 

because, after all, he is homelander. who doesn’t want to have a conversation with him?

when she opens the door, he plasters a smile across his lips  &  puts on the superhero voice. (i mean business but i am here to save your life!)   ❛   dr. sobeck, i’m so sorry to drop in unannounced. i happened to be in the neighborhood  &  i know of your work!   ❜   lies are spoken with ease out of his mouth as he points his index finger towards her, nodding his head with every word. over the years, he’s become more convincing   —   a liar who can pull off even the most risky plots. right now, he feels like he’s nailing this part. (still waiting on my oscar, hollywood! or a fucking pay raise, vought.)   

there’s a thousand terrible little things one could say — it’s doctor sobeck, not ms. sobeck.  but it will never make it out, it stays curled up in the back of her throat, living with every other unspoken thing (i never loved you! how could do this to me? what did i do to deserve this? why ted — what did i ever do to you?). it’s just another little thing to add to the pile of cruel jabs and undermining that has painted every aspect and wall of her life.  every little thing she’s taken over the years — how horrific to have someone finally see you for who you really are and then have it thrown back in your face.  but she got used to being picked last a long time ago.  ❛ you might not be excited to meet me but i am actually excited to meet you.  that being said, i do understand why i leave a sour taste in your mouth. ❜

❛ but we’re far from here to discuss that.  as i’m sure you’re aware, there is a legal definition between an android and a robot — miriam technologies focuses on robotics, not androids & we come nowhere close to the requirements for sentience classification.  we’re closer to a microwave than an android. the advancement of green robotics rather than androids — after all, i might not believe humans should inherit the earth but i do want to leave the world better than i found it. ❜  the scrunch of her nose, tension that could be cut with a knife and it’s a soft moment, a curl of her lips.  her hand slips into the others, and it’s strange.  the near-cold plastic, the missing elements of little human touches.  the scarring, the grooves and the whorl of a palm.. the faults of a human compared to the near-perfectionism of her.. it’s beautiful.  ❛ i’d be more than happy to discuss my work with you, actually.  this gala is awful, i’d be more than happy to sneak out of here and talk if you would like?  actually.. if you have any free time coming up, you’d be more than welcome to come to our headquarters some day.  properly see everything, y’know?  after this benefit — what a stupid term, right? we both know this isn’t for charity.  it’s just going to line the pockets of some already rich white politician who wants me deported and you dead.  fuck; i’m only here to save face after faro’s latest lawsuit against me —— but i’m in the ny-ålesund base to help oversee the repopulation of the arctic for the next couple weeks but after that, you’d be more than welcome to come around? ❜

with every spoken word being poured into her ears, it only drives north further to the edge she’s tittering on the edge of. one more step backwards  &  there she goes, tumbling to the bottom of the imaginary river she’s built for herself, cobalt blood splattering everywhere until the police eventually arrive to the scene. in her head, it seems more ideal than the scenario she currently finds herself in: a charity for rich white politicians where her ear is being chatted off by someone whom she despises. (maybe it’s an overstatement to say despise; elisabet has done some good for world, specifically for the earth in making sure it doesn’t become a wasteland with a hot temperature besides its side. what has she done to make androids lives a tad easier, though? none of those things matter to androids because they were never built with those concepts in mind; climate change doesn’t matter to them, not receiving death threats do. it’s a question playing itself through north’s head with every glance she takes at the other woman, threatening to spill from the tip of her tongue. it almost makes her laugh in the other woman’s face because it is comical in a sense, but she refrains.) she does listen to everything the doctor says, however, even with her conscience telling her otherwise. if she were to listen to that, though, she would have already slipped out of the event  &  been back at her apartment, ordering a bottle of aged booze she couldn’t even drink. (it’s what humans do  &  what makes her feel more alive as if she finally fits in! can’t be that bad, right?)

❛   i’m so proud of you.   ❜   it seemed like only yesterday when she dropped him off at the rehabilitation facility. she remembers watching as he entered through the front doors, hoping to herself when she saw him next,  her brother would be back.  her wish had been answered because here he is, sitting in her living room, looking healthier than she’d seen him in years. it brought a bright grin to her face, laughter spilling from her mouth as she moves to wrap her arms around him once more, embracing him in a tight squeeze. she lingers momentarily, as if she’s afraid if she lets go, he’ll disappear into the stygian shadows once again.  she doesn’t want that.  she can’t have that happen.

she knew what tonight would entail; a bunch of shaking hands with politicians who years ago were rooting for her death in the cold wintery streets of detroit. they cheered when markus died in the streets, hoping to see you right next to him.  you never gave up.  tonight, they smile  &  laugh as they attempt to toss their previous haughty comments out the window, insinuating they were only speaking out of a hybrid containing ignorance  &  fear,  &  never wanted another civil war to take place in their backyard. it takes every ounce of nylon inside her to hold herself back from pouncing on her prey, ripping them to shreds  &  her mugshot making the evening news:  north jericho, androids right activist, commits murder at charity benefit!  it’s what they’re all waiting for: the slightest screw-up to pin on androids to take away their rights. after everything they’d all gone through with the protests  &  at jericho, she can’t be the reason they lose it. if it means plastering a complacent smile across her features, shaking hands,  &  contemplate aiming her police-issued pistol at her head: so be it.

what she wasn’t expecting was elisabet sobeck also being in attendance. she’d heard of the woman in passing amongst colleagues  &  whilst attending interviews, often asking for her position on sobeck’s work in robotics  &  the usage of androids for her various reasons. that was thing with humans: androids were props for them, often used for their various political reasons. that’s what sobeck’s work was, whether she’d admit it or not,  it was political.  it’s when north approaches sobeck when her posture straightens, jaw tight  &  vision steady, her wispy hand reaching out for an greeting.