Zadkiel Thrush (lifeibreathe) wrote in we_float, @ 2010-06-30 22:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: maxxie delacourt, character: zadkiel thrush |
Who: Maxxie Delacourt and Zadkiel Thrush
When: Wednesday, June 30, 2096
Where: Anhalt Building kitchen
What: A conversation that doesn't go quite right
Status: Log, Complete
Living in Anhalt was superbly weird. Maxxie was surrounded by people, all the time, and most of the time she didn't mind them. Some of them, anyway. Matt was a bit abrasive at times, but she half-understood him, and felt like they spoke the same language at moments at least. She honestly liked Del, just for being a kind of nice, sweet guy who danced really well and didn't push at her in any way. And Tom was... well Tom was Tom, and thinking about someone she could actually call a friend made her smile.
Then there was Zadkiel. Who frankly bewildered her, because nothing she had studied could possibly prepare her for the quiet faith of the young man, which seemed oddly out of place in the modern world. And like something that might well get him killed eventually. She padded on bare feet through the house, looking for him.
She found him in the kitchen, long limbs curled in close to his body as he poked at the salad he'd fixed. Zadkiel looked up when she heard her enter, then looked back at his food, taking a bite and chewing slowly. He'd just been paid, and his first stop on the way home had been to get fresh produce. The taste of the greens made him homesick, but what didn't these days?
It's not your home anymore, he reminded himself. You don't have a home. Because this place surely wasn't one.
Maxxie got herself a glass of water, then hunted down one of her yogurts and sprinkled some granola into it before she took a seat at the table, close enough to talk to Zad, but not so close that she'd be encroaching on his personal space. "Hey, Zad. Looks like a good lunch."
Zadkiel nodded, watching her out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't stupid; he knew she wanted something. Probably to continue the discussion they'd started over the computers. It wasn't really a discussion he particularly wanted to have.
Maxxie let things go in silence for a little while. The yogurt was good, and it was always best to eat the granola parts before they got soggy. When she'd reached the point where it was just yogurt left in the little cup, she set her spoon down for a moment. "I started tae kwon do when I was four," she said, without bothering to open the conversation otherwise. "I stopped for a long time, because I was busy with gymnastics. If I hadn't had tae kwon do to go back to, when my world went to hell, I might've gone nuts." A small rueful smile. "No, I would've gone nuts. Not because it let me hit things, but because it gave me a place and a way to be in control. And to learn how to control myself."
Zadkiel looked up at her, acknowledging her as she spoke because it would have been rude not to. His expression was carefully neutral as he waited for her to make a point. But then she stopped speaking and he wasn't sure what he was supposed to respond to. There was no question in it. "That's good, then," he said finally.
"My point is, it's not always about violence," Maxxie said. "No one wanted me to be violent. In fact, pretty much just the opposite. They wanted to keep me from having temper tantrums when I was little, and when I was older I needed to learn how to let it all go. I'm the least violent I ever am, when I'm working on my tae kwon do."
She glanced over at him to see if he was understanding her yet. If she might be able to work this back around to him learning.
Zadkiel still failed to see what this had to do with him. "I'm not violent," he pointed out. "I'm glad that it worked for you, though. It must be hard, not being able to control yourself."
Maxxie sighed. "I can control myself, thanks. You are so totally the strangest person I have ever spoken to. It's like... you live in your own world, and it doesn't really relate to the one we're in here. People are scary. Dangerous. They might want to kill you and you seem to think that that's God's will. God helps those who help themselves. He's never wanted anyone to just lie down and tell people to walk on them like a doormat."
His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. "You don't get to speak for God," Zadkiel said. "No one gets to speak for God but He Himself."
"Does he talk to you directly?" Maxxie asked. "Because every time I've been to church, it's all about people telling me what to do, not God."
"Why do you choose to listen to those people? How do you know that they are right?" Zadkiel asked. He took another bite of salad, chewing slowly, letting her wait while he did so. "He doesn't speak to me directly. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. But I was raised studying His word, and I've spent a lot of time thinking about it, and praying, and figuring out what I believe He is saying."
"The Bible is his word as written by people. Interpreted, over and over again, just like you're doing, throughout the centuries. Religion is human, Zad. We're human. And you're actually right, I don't choose to listen to the ministers." She smiled faintly. "I don't like organized religion, even my mother thinks it'll save us all. Belief is private. And I believe that He thinks we're all important to him. And that He gives us the resources to do what He wants us to do. To the extent that He's paying attention."
Why was she talking about God? Yeah, she'd thought about it a little, and yeah, this was how she thought, but it wasn't like she did everything because God said. And she had the feeling Zadkiel did live his life that way and she just didn't understand why.
"As do I. And what he has given me is a set of beliefs, a name, and an ability that ordinary people do not have. Do you know what my name means?" His eyes were wide and bright as he studied her.
"Not a clue," Maxxie replied.
"Zadkiel means 'righteousness of God'. He's the archangel of mercy. The patron angel of all who forgive. Some say that Zadkiel is the angel who stopped Abraham's hand when he was going to sacrifice his son to the Lord." His gaze was still intent, searching for a reaction. "My mother gave me the name because she hoped it God would be merciful on me, let me live because I was born too soon. And He did. All of my life, I've known this, and I've tried to live up to the name. I've lived all of my life in service to God and my family, to being merciful, to giving comfort and to never cause pain. I won't let you take that away from me, because you are afraid."
His jaw tightened again. "A man died while I watched. I couldn't save him. A man died because he was beaten to death and we were too late, and you think you're going to tell me that the world is a scary place with bad people in it? I know. I've known that beyond a shadow of a doubt for nearly half of my life. I don't need you or anyone to tell me.
"We're here because the world wants to erase us. Because everyone out there wants us to be who we are not. How can you ask me to erase twenty years of belief, become who I am not, simply because you think that your way is better than mine?"
Wow. For a long moment, Maxxie had no idea quite what to say. She'd never met anyone like Zad, never even met someone who came close. "If he gave you a gift to help people," she finally said quietly, "how can you do that, if others destroy you?"
"Do you think I am so easy to destroy?" Zadkiel asked. He didn't say that he suspected he was a lot more resilient than many of the others here. "You are acting as though it is inevitable that we will all be physically attacked. But if they know that they are attacking Wild Cards, why would they do it in such a way that we would even have the chance to fight back?"
"That's a cheery thought," Maxxie said dryly. "And I'm not making that assumption. I'm trying to cover all possibilities, and that's one of them. Sometimes the mob mentality can be a bit stupid, so I wouldn't be surprised if they do something like that."
She nudged her yogurt cup out of the way and considered Zadkiel. He didn't have a violent bone, that was fine. He didn't have a sense of self-preservation either, which wasn't so fine. "Do you think someone could force you to use your ability?"
"No," Zadkiel said. "I don't think they could, and what would be the point of forcing me to save someone?"
Maxxie shrugged one shoulder. "I can think of a couple of reasons. For one, what if the someone they wanted you to save was someone who'd killed people. Someone who if you saved them, it'd be more trouble for the world. Or, what if that person was dying, and they made you choose them over yourself. Made you keep putting energy in until you were used up."
"Unless they had some kind of power that robbed me of free will, they couldn't make me do that," Zadkiel said. "In which case, it wouldn't matter, would it?"
Maxxie poked at the table with one blue-tipped finger. "I don't understand you, Zad."
"I'm sorry," he said. Not because he really meant it; he didn't expect people to understand him. He certainly didn't understand them. He said it because it seemed like what she probably wanted to hear.
She stood up, turning the chair around so she could sit on it backwards, leaning against the high back with her elbows. Snorting softly, she said, "No you're not. No one ever is. We are who we are, right? So you're here to help people. Just that, is that it? Help everyone you can until it wears you down so far you can't get back up, and damn the consequences." Another laugh. "Sometimes I think the people who might need the most help are all of us, but I'm guessing you can't fix the crazy, can you?"
"No, I can't," Zadkiel said. Why did people laugh when things weren't funny? And why did she think she knew anything about him after talking at him for a few minutes? "I don't know why I'm here," he added, completely honest.
She propped her chin on her hands. "Don't know why they wanted you here, or don't know why you decided that you're staying with us?"
"I haven't decided if I'm staying with you," Zadkiel said quietly. "I don't know why they wanted me here, other than that I'm an Ace and I'm off the grid. I don't know why I agreed to it then. Maybe I made a mistake."
"Assumed violence aside, why else do you think it could be a mistake?" Maxxie's chin tilted as she regarded him. "The point is to help wild cards, after all."
Zadkiel was silent for a long time. How could you explain something that was just a feeling, deep in your gut, that said that you were in the wrong place? "I don't feel as if I belong here," he said finally. "Maybe I haven't made enough of an effort. But I don't know any of you... and I don't know if we'll ever be coming from anything like the same place." He shrugged.
"But if we want the same things -- to help people -- isn't that a reason to try?" Maxxie asked. She didn't understand Zadkiel at all, but she could see how he could be helpful to the effort. She had a feeling they'd be finding a lot of wild cards after the harm had been done.
Zadkiel just shrugged.
"It's your decision in the end." She picked up the yogurt cup and tossed it, and gave the spoon a quick wash before setting it to dry. "I hope you stay. We've all got different attitudes, but if we try to learn to work together, I think we can do a lot of good."
"I hope so." He turned his attention back to his salad, silently retreating into himself.