[The usual scene for their interaction had been the laboratory, with Marie intensely focused, moving quickly and barking corrections. Her laboratory has been destroyed for quite a while now, and her attempts to rebuild have left her dissatisfied. Not that she had ever been particularly satisfied. She hates treading the same ground over and over again, never moving forward. And yet, in the back of her mind she knows there is no forward. She is dead, her life here is merely suspended animation.]
[It has taken its toll on her, trapped in this little bubble where she cannot make a change. She had perfected the first vessel to travel faster than light, fought to retake her ship and defend humanity. Now she jogs in the mornings, and eventually winds up here.]
Good morning, ensign.
[Coffee and an already half-full ashtray of cigarettes; not truly a space age woman.]
[It has been some time since Chekov has seen Marie in anything but passing (discounting the party). He misses working with her. The laboratory has been too quiet, and work has been slow. There is nothing to achieve; not that he will tell this to those who have arrived here from his home, but he doubts that escape from the City is possible. Their knowledge, however formidable, cannot make this universe behave by the same principles as the ones they are more familiar with.
She doesn't look well. Then again, Delacroix always has a gaunt, poorly-rested look to her. Ignoring the impressive collection of ash in front of the woman, he sits and gives her a small, hesitant smile, testing her mood.]
To you also, Delacroix. Thank you for meeting with me.
[Her eyes close, fingers coming up to rub the bridge of her nose. Her painful memories are not of Korra, but of Anatoly and her ship. She remembers the others, telling her about the singing. How Anatoly would come to them at night and paint such beautiful visions. How monstrous he was becoming, how irresistible. It still fills her with revulsion and with anger, but there is no outlet for it, it just sits inside of her, twisting her into knots and there is no release. ]
She was not zhe only one to take zhe minds of those around 'er.
[It takes him a moment to remember the curse that she's referring to. It takes less time to determine that the relatively recent incident with Korra isn't what's troubling her (and something is troubling her, however little she allows herself to express it).]
That was only a curse. Something like this happened to you before...?
[She sits back, staring upwards, as if she can see her ship up there. She can quote this, directly,]
"I got an email from Korenchkin this morning saying he was coming up for an inspection. And when he arrived it was... something... revolting... it was Anatoly... but it wasn't... at the same time it seemed beautiful... and I felt like part of it... He sang to us... all of us... and we felt like one of Many..."
[She had never gotten to kill Anatoly for what he had done, only here in this ridiculous fantasyland where there is no up.]
You thought that this incident was repeating itself.
[That doesn't make shooting people okay, particularly when the one being shot is a close friend. But this is Delacroix--Delacroix, who is brilliant, psychologically damaged, paranoid to an extreme, and too prone to drinking. Can she be held accountable for her actions? Chekov isn't sure.]
Is there ever a time when you are not reliving a nightmare?
[Chekov doubts that Delacroix can be talked into seeing a professional (and, honestly, he agrees that she might be too far gone for modern psychiatric treatment). She needs to do something.]
Has this gone beyond any kind of help? There are friends who would help, maybe, if they knew how.
[It was difficult to judge, she had become this way... out of necessity. The necessity was now gone, and she could not return to herself, but did not entirely feel like an alien. It was like a lost limb, the phantom was still there, reassuringly, but it could not be leaned on.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action;
[It has taken its toll on her, trapped in this little bubble where she cannot make a change. She had perfected the first vessel to travel faster than light, fought to retake her ship and defend humanity. Now she jogs in the mornings, and eventually winds up here.]
Good morning, ensign.
[Coffee and an already half-full ashtray of cigarettes; not truly a space age woman.]
action;
She doesn't look well. Then again, Delacroix always has a gaunt, poorly-rested look to her. Ignoring the impressive collection of ash in front of the woman, he sits and gives her a small, hesitant smile, testing her mood.]
To you also, Delacroix. Thank you for meeting with me.
action;
I would not 'ave attended your celebration, if I 'ad known zhere would be such a problem.
[Straight to the point, but that's to be expected with her.]
action;
I was glad to see you. The situation was not ideal... [he pauses] May I ask what happened with you and Korra?
action;
[She relates this as one would expect, clipped and direct, no remorse, no emotion. She doesn't deny hurting the girl.]
action;
action;
[Her eyes close, fingers coming up to rub the bridge of her nose. Her painful memories are not of Korra, but of Anatoly and her ship. She remembers the others, telling her about the singing. How Anatoly would come to them at night and paint such beautiful visions. How monstrous he was becoming, how irresistible. It still fills her with revulsion and with anger, but there is no outlet for it, it just sits inside of her, twisting her into knots and there is no release. ]
She was not zhe only one to take zhe minds of those around 'er.
action;
That was only a curse. Something like this happened to you before...?
action;
"I got an email from Korenchkin this morning saying he was coming up for an inspection. And when he arrived it was... something... revolting... it was Anatoly... but it wasn't... at the same time it seemed beautiful... and I felt like part of it... He sang to us... all of us... and we felt like one of Many..."
[She had never gotten to kill Anatoly for what he had done, only here in this ridiculous fantasyland where there is no up.]
action;
[That doesn't make shooting people okay, particularly when the one being shot is a close friend. But this is Delacroix--Delacroix, who is brilliant, psychologically damaged, paranoid to an extreme, and too prone to drinking. Can she be held accountable for her actions? Chekov isn't sure.]
Is there ever a time when you are not reliving a nightmare?
action;
No.
action;
action;
Zhis 'as gone beyond a physician.
[So not completely oblivious to herself, but perhaps too tired and wounded and determined to find a course of action for this.]
action;
Has this gone beyond any kind of help? There are friends who would help, maybe, if they knew how.
action;
[It was difficult to judge, she had become this way... out of necessity. The necessity was now gone, and she could not return to herself, but did not entirely feel like an alien. It was like a lost limb, the phantom was still there, reassuringly, but it could not be leaned on.]
Zhe mind is not my area of expertise.
[It is a subtle, if bitter, moment of humor.]
action;
[Humorless. He shifts uncomfortably.]
Thank you for attending the party, even though it didn't go well.
action;
action;