[ His brow wrinkles in confusion before his expression smooths out into something amused. ]
Ah, no. It's just me, actually. Those were copies of myself. Back in my home system, I'm what they would have colloquially called a Changer. Powers of illusion, ability to alter matter, things of that nature.
[ The air from his lungs escapes in one breath as he slams against the bulkhead, and a part of him commends Charlie for how easily he taps into his abilities.
Another part of him twists, something icy and filled raged, and thinks, How dare he?
But Myriad swallows his anger, looks Charlie directly in the eye; he at least forces himself to look nervous. ]
To see a healer, as I said. An acquaintance I met during the course of my work.
You need to calm down. You're going to aggravate your injuries.
Of course, if this man knew who Charlie was, knew what he was, he wouldn't have mentioned being a Changer at all. It would have been the easier route. Also, if his parents had hired him to bring Charlie home, then who hired the assassin? It was almost easier to believe his family wanted him dead rather than to return.
At last, the fight drains from him, and the light in his eyes dims. ] I'm sorry.
[ He breathes a sigh of relief when he feels the pressure holding him against the bulkhead disappears, but he stays tense, alert. Apparently Charlie had come to his own conclusions, for which he was glad. ]
I take it you're a Mover.
[ Although he knew that already. No need to let the ignorant front drop. ]
I'm not going to ask what your circumstances are, but for my part, I left our system a long time ago. Several decades by now, actually. I understand better than anyone the need to escape that place, and so long as you're with me, no one will force you to return.
[ He takes a wary step forward. ]
I am not asking for absolute trust. Given what seems to have happened to you tonight, I understand your caution. But I ask you to at least trust me until after your injuries have been seen to.
[ What are the chances? He thinks. What are the fucking chances that he’d run into another runaway?? Something suspiciously like hope starts to poke its head up, and Charlie does his best to stomp it back down. It’s something of a losing battle, however. He’s been alone for so long, and he thought for sure he’d be alone out in the universe too, but against all odds, someone happens to find him who knows what it’s like in that place. Who knows what it’s like to want out.
And who has managed running away a whole lot better than Charlie has.
The Mover relaxes by degrees. Even if he was still suspicious- and a part of him keeps nagging that he ought to be, though Charlie doesn’t pay it much mind- he’s much too tired to do much about it. ]
I’m Charlie. [ It’s a start. An admission of some small sort of trust. ]
Not always. Some merely maintain their given names, but when I left home, I was adamant, perhaps childishly so, about leaving behind everything my parents gave me -- name included. If it were up to me, I'd be just as happy without a code name, but I suppose I'm just that special.
[ Another step forward, and he rights the chair that was knocked over, after Charie threw him into the bulkhead. ]
The man in your apartment. [ He pauses, apparently hesitant. ] Was he trying to return you home?
[ He wants to ask more, to find out just what was the breaking point, but Charlie’s not sure if he could handle coming this close to a kindred spirit only to part ways again. ]
Same. [ He lays back down, draping an arm over his eyes, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. ] Apparently someone out there thinks I don’t deserve to live my life the way I want to.
[ Myriad draws his mouth into a thin, solemn line, sympathetic and concerned. He's silent for a long moment, as though arguing whether or not to press, keep probing for answers, but eventually he shakes his head, resigned. He did, after all, say he would not ask about Charlie's circumstances.
His gaze falls to the floor briefly. ]
For what it's worth -- and it may be worth very little, coming from a complete stranger and career criminal -- I think it's quite brave of you to strike out on your own. Even more so, since fortune seems determined to make it difficult for you.
[ For a second or two, Charlie doesn't know what to say. He didn't expect to find kindness in this situation, and he looks at Myriad like a deer in the headlights for a beat, before offering a quiet, ] Thank you.
[ He shakes his head in answer, as if to say, No need for that. ]
Get some rest. I'll have the healer come to us once we've docked. She'll likely agree with me that you shouldn't move around too much with those injuries.
[ He pauses as he's turning to leave the room, looking back at Charlie. ]
Well, that's entirely up to you. [ His head tilts, a small, rueful smile playing at his lips. ] I assume we'll part ways.
[ Another pause, and he nods to a corner of the room, where a bag sits. ]
Forgive my presumption, but I took the liberty of gathering some of your things when we left. The scene in your apartment was... unsettling. I didn't expect you would want to return.
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I don't blame you in the slightest, considering the night you've had. We can part ways after my acquaintance has seen to your injuries.
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HOVER MENUS
[ His brow wrinkles in confusion before his expression smooths out into something amused. ]
Ah, no. It's just me, actually. Those were copies of myself. Back in my home system, I'm what they would have colloquially called a Changer. Powers of illusion, ability to alter matter, things of that nature.
TURN THAT SHIT OFF
Charlie's eyes flare bright blue and he shoves the man in front of him against the nearest wall ]
Tell me the truth! Where are we going?
u can't tell me what to do ur not my real dad
Another part of him twists, something icy and filled raged, and thinks, How dare he?
But Myriad swallows his anger, looks Charlie directly in the eye; he at least forces himself to look nervous. ]
To see a healer, as I said. An acquaintance I met during the course of my work.
You need to calm down. You're going to aggravate your injuries.
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[ he licks his lips. ]
I haven't been home in a long, long time, and I have no intention of returning, either.
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Of course, if this man knew who Charlie was, knew what he was, he wouldn't have mentioned being a Changer at all. It would have been the easier route. Also, if his parents had hired him to bring Charlie home, then who hired the assassin? It was almost easier to believe his family wanted him dead rather than to return.
At last, the fight drains from him, and the light in his eyes dims. ] I'm sorry.
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I take it you're a Mover.
[ Although he knew that already. No need to let the ignorant front drop. ]
I'm not going to ask what your circumstances are, but for my part, I left our system a long time ago. Several decades by now, actually. I understand better than anyone the need to escape that place, and so long as you're with me, no one will force you to return.
[ He takes a wary step forward. ]
I am not asking for absolute trust. Given what seems to have happened to you tonight, I understand your caution. But I ask you to at least trust me until after your injuries have been seen to.
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And who has managed running away a whole lot better than Charlie has.
The Mover relaxes by degrees. Even if he was still suspicious- and a part of him keeps nagging that he ought to be, though Charlie doesn’t pay it much mind- he’s much too tired to do much about it. ]
I’m Charlie. [ It’s a start. An admission of some small sort of trust. ]
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[ He repeats it with a small, thankful smile. ]
I'm known as Myriad, now. [ He holds up a hand as if to stave off any teasing remarks. ] A little on the nose, I know, but it seems to have stuck.
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[ Another step forward, and he rights the chair that was knocked over, after Charie threw him into the bulkhead. ]
The man in your apartment. [ He pauses, apparently hesitant. ] Was he trying to return you home?
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He was there to kill me.
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... I'm sorry.
[ His voice is softened, approaching gentle. He hesitates again, looking as though he'd like to ask more, but he shakes his head. ]
We don't have to discuss it, if you prefer. You ought to be resting, as it is.
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My parents and I clashed on many things. [ The words are said slowly, carefully. ] My career. My future. My lifestyle. My--
[ Myriad pauses, brow furrowing. He decides at last on-- ]
-- interests. Eventually I saw no other recourse than to leave it all behind me.
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Same. [ He lays back down, draping an arm over his eyes, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. ] Apparently someone out there thinks I don’t deserve to live my life the way I want to.
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His gaze falls to the floor briefly. ]
For what it's worth -- and it may be worth very little, coming from a complete stranger and career criminal -- I think it's quite brave of you to strike out on your own. Even more so, since fortune seems determined to make it difficult for you.
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Get some rest. I'll have the healer come to us once we've docked. She'll likely agree with me that you shouldn't move around too much with those injuries.
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And once she heals me... then what?
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Well, that's entirely up to you. [ His head tilts, a small, rueful smile playing at his lips. ] I assume we'll part ways.
[ Another pause, and he nods to a corner of the room, where a bag sits. ]
Forgive my presumption, but I took the liberty of gathering some of your things when we left. The scene in your apartment was... unsettling. I didn't expect you would want to return.
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