sorting through his own feelings is difficult enough, and he doesn't want Kate to catch a glimpse of something unrelated. besides, he owes her an explanation more than a cop-out.
[ that's still ... still broad. ever since he arrived it's been loss of autonomy and agency, tracking down those that seek to use him for their own means. it's in the back of his mind, and ironic, really—used by both Asgard and by the people of this world without means of fighting back.
but he'll find a different way to lift his middle finger, he always does.
there's a raise of a brow then a squint. ]
Would angry suffice?
[ he holds all that anger well, but it still settles in him, twists and threatens to burst. ]
[ it always, always feels like he owes her something. he hates it, really, but it catches him and drags him back from the game that he constantly insists on playing.
he can't hurt Kate, not again. ]
Angry, still—just as I did when I arrived, and my autonomy was stripped from me.
[ and many other things he doesn't like talking about: helpless, when he breeds his own brand of control; vulnerable, when he had done his damndest never to feel that way again; and like he had so long ago, dredging up memories that he'd rather forget.
he raises a brow at her. ]
The experience was violating.
[ like he wasn't himself, or that he was more himself? ]
[Kate sighs softly, quiet for a moment. That's how she figured it felt, honestly, but now that she has the confirmation, she's not entirely sure how to respond. When she does continue, her voice is gentler.]
I'm sorry. It seems like this place is good at that, isn't it? I wish we could have gotten to you sooner, but I bet that cure wasn't a great experience either.
[ that was. a lot of anger that poured out of him. he had felt it before, so he had known, partially, that i was his own. he had felt it so intensely during the course of so many lives, that it was familiar. that part still scared him. ]
I suppose the worst part would be ... [ he rubs the back of his neck, looking like he's not entirely certain of the words he's about to express. ] It wasn't unfamiliar.
[ that was a loaded question. how often has he felt angry? how often has he let the spite of former incarnations seep into him and fuel what he so desperately wanted to leave behind? it's difficult to explain the dissonance of his own existence. he puts dark nailed fingers to his forehead, as if he were trying to place something. ]
Kate ... you know who I am—[ more importantly: what. ]—my memories aren't exactly linear.
[ they've been broken apart, fractured in places and set again.
it leaves gaps filled with spite and anger, sorting out memories that did and did not exist, when the truth was that it didn't really matter which they were. they were real enough. ]
[ it's still odd to be so casual about touching, but this is Kate, so he doesn't protest. she's allowed to do as she pleased when it came to invading his space, he owed her a lot, but he's still not used to it. ]
Kate, the Avengers were formed in a former incarnation's anger. [ the incarnation that he kinda sorta is, but kinda sorta isn't. ] There's not much that isn't shrouded in rage when it comes to my memories.
[She's trying to understand, but really, multiple incarnations with jumbled memories isn't something she'll ever be able to get on a personal level. She's human, after all, and so she peers at him, studying his face, still listening carefully.]
But what about now? Are you still always angry? Has it gotten better?
[ sometimes he wonders what it would be like to be that mortal, without the mishmash of existential trauma and circular concept of memory. he's a story projected on reality, very much himself, but very much something else. ]
Well, it's not overwhelming.
[ just a slow fire, smoldering rather than consuming. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[She lets her hand drop, then shoots him a soft smile.]
Should we sit?
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[ he says through all of his discomfort.
sorting through his own feelings is difficult enough, and he doesn't want Kate to catch a glimpse of something unrelated. besides, he owes her an explanation more than a cop-out.
so, they sit. ]
Where, exactly, would you like me to start?
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You look plenty comfortable to me.
[Then she shifts, kicking off her flip flops and pulling her feet up onto her seat.]
Start wherever you want. I'll listen.
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[ just kind of being honest here. ]
You'll have to be more specific.
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Okay. Tell me how you're feeling. You know, about everything that's happened.
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but he'll find a different way to lift his middle finger, he always does.
there's a raise of a brow then a squint. ]
Would angry suffice?
[ he holds all that anger well, but it still settles in him, twists and threatens to burst. ]
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Yeah, that's a good word for it. How are you feeling after... You know, the last few days?
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he can't hurt Kate, not again. ]
Angry, still—just as I did when I arrived, and my autonomy was stripped from me.
[ and many other things he doesn't like talking about: helpless, when he breeds his own brand of control; vulnerable, when he had done his damndest never to feel that way again; and like he had so long ago, dredging up memories that he'd rather forget.
he raises a brow at her. ]
The experience was violating.
[ like he wasn't himself, or that he was more himself? ]
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I'm sorry. It seems like this place is good at that, isn't it? I wish we could have gotten to you sooner, but I bet that cure wasn't a great experience either.
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[ that was. a lot of anger that poured out of him. he had felt it before, so he had known, partially, that i was his own. he had felt it so intensely during the course of so many lives, that it was familiar. that part still scared him. ]
I suppose the worst part would be ... [ he rubs the back of his neck, looking like he's not entirely certain of the words he's about to express. ] It wasn't unfamiliar.
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Kate ... you know who I am—[ more importantly: what. ]—my memories aren't exactly linear.
[ they've been broken apart, fractured in places and set again.
it leaves gaps filled with spite and anger, sorting out memories that did and did not exist, when the truth was that it didn't really matter which they were. they were real enough. ]
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I know. Can you give me a ballpark estimate? Is it all the time?
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Kate, the Avengers were formed in a former incarnation's anger. [ the incarnation that he kinda sorta is, but kinda sorta isn't. ] There's not much that isn't shrouded in rage when it comes to my memories.
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But what about now? Are you still always angry? Has it gotten better?
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Well, it's not overwhelming.
[ just a slow fire, smoldering rather than consuming. ]
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[She squeezes his arm gently, quiet and thoughtful.]
What are you usually angry about?
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There's too much, Kate Bishop, some that I can't place, but I know it to be there. There are old wounds ...
[ ones that it seems that he can't escape, no matter how he tries. ]
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Hey, you can always talk to me if it helps, you know? Even if you want to be vague. Sometimes venting is nice.
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[ friend or not, because he doesn't really know how to be a good friend. ]
I'm too good a talker.
[ and he knows how frustrating that he can turn a situation. ]