[ 'Don't', he says, and Silco feels the vibrant burn of his fury. He can't help it, and it's apparent on his face, the way his lips twitch -- the quick, barely-there baring of his teeth into something almost feral -- the way his eyes dart, as if he's thinking about something not there -- the shard in his rooms in Highstorm, neatly tucked with the remnants of whatever metal, half-formed inventions and artwork Jinx had left, carefully alarmed and kept away from any tampering -- and for a moment, there's not just fury -- something else? -- but he's quick to plaster the holes in his armor, and cover it up.
Don't, Vander says, as if he has any right to memories of Jinx. He'd explained it to her plenty of times, how Vander wasn't the man they all thought that he was. For all his high-minded words, the promises of "playing nice" with their betters that looked down their noses at them and saw only dirty little specks of waste, only good enough to work in their mines and labor for them to sip their fancy drinks, or make themselves richer -- little more. No, being quiet, and meek, "causing no trouble" while the Enforcers refused to breathe their air, and was worth more than their freedom.
Silco hated Vander. Not just because of what was done to him, but because he represented something deeply wrong in philosophy. He could say that the people were worth so much more -- perhaps he had? -- but what did that matter, if they never moved forward? Never gained independence? Silco could have tasted it, how close they were, but now there was nothing, and he didn't care. The promise of Meridian was to bring all of Runeterra back, down to the Pilties, and he would never give them such an honor. ]
Did you know that last time, I had side effects from the tree? [ He asked, his tone sharp, dangerous. ] I'm more dangerous than you give me credit for.
[ Or perhaps that was a delusion. Had Vander not tried to snuff his life out for fear of what he would do? Had he not had to keep to shadows and live in an abandoned canning factory because he was dangerous, while Vander remained a pillar of the community?
He doesn't tell him that he's wrong -- he's listened to only Caitlyn and Vi, after all. Not Sevika, or Jinx, or the people who were thriving in this new Zaun, a city of pure freedom and excess. Instead -- ]
You say 'don't' as if you have any rights to make demands, Vander. I'm taking what I'm due, that's all.
[ He doesn't say: I'm taking away my daughter, it's too close, to raw and too open. Only Kaeya and Sebastian knew about that, and Silco didn't want to speak it into existence, let other people know there was a raw and gaping wound left from his daughter's absence.
He instead felt at the edges of his shield spell, intending to use that to block Vander's metal fists -- old relics of a time from when they were boys, when they hadn't fostered so much animosity between them -- and when he could feel the edges of the spell return to him, sufficient power to keep him from getting strangled in a random room in the Scorching Isles, he slipped forward, about as fast as a near-50-year-old could move. Speed was not something he was gifted with. ]
no subject
Don't, Vander says, as if he has any right to memories of Jinx. He'd explained it to her plenty of times, how Vander wasn't the man they all thought that he was. For all his high-minded words, the promises of "playing nice" with their betters that looked down their noses at them and saw only dirty little specks of waste, only good enough to work in their mines and labor for them to sip their fancy drinks, or make themselves richer -- little more. No, being quiet, and meek, "causing no trouble" while the Enforcers refused to breathe their air, and was worth more than their freedom.
Silco hated Vander. Not just because of what was done to him, but because he represented something deeply wrong in philosophy. He could say that the people were worth so much more -- perhaps he had? -- but what did that matter, if they never moved forward? Never gained independence? Silco could have tasted it, how close they were, but now there was nothing, and he didn't care. The promise of Meridian was to bring all of Runeterra back, down to the Pilties, and he would never give them such an honor. ]
Did you know that last time, I had side effects from the tree? [ He asked, his tone sharp, dangerous. ] I'm more dangerous than you give me credit for.
[ Or perhaps that was a delusion. Had Vander not tried to snuff his life out for fear of what he would do? Had he not had to keep to shadows and live in an abandoned canning factory because he was dangerous, while Vander remained a pillar of the community?
He doesn't tell him that he's wrong -- he's listened to only Caitlyn and Vi, after all. Not Sevika, or Jinx, or the people who were thriving in this new Zaun, a city of pure freedom and excess. Instead -- ]
You say 'don't' as if you have any rights to make demands, Vander. I'm taking what I'm due, that's all.
[ He doesn't say: I'm taking away my daughter, it's too close, to raw and too open. Only Kaeya and Sebastian knew about that, and Silco didn't want to speak it into existence, let other people know there was a raw and gaping wound left from his daughter's absence.
He instead felt at the edges of his shield spell, intending to use that to block Vander's metal fists -- old relics of a time from when they were boys, when they hadn't fostered so much animosity between them -- and when he could feel the edges of the spell return to him, sufficient power to keep him from getting strangled in a random room in the Scorching Isles, he slipped forward, about as fast as a near-50-year-old could move. Speed was not something he was gifted with. ]