[ The last time Venom encountered Isha was, to put it mildly, in not-so-ideal conditions, so he approaches her with a measure of cautiousness today— one palm offered in confidence, falling down at his holstered gun when he knows for certain that he's gotten her attention.
He keeps his focus on her with simmering intensity, but that isn't new. His silence isn't anything wildly unexpected, either, as he approaches and keeps a good few feet of distance between them. ]
[No need for him to know that she needs to doubly overcompensate her systems to make up for the fact that she literally can't feel a thing.
She can't say she knows him well, but she knows him well enough to be unsurprised by his silence. She welcomes it, actually, instead of the chaos that she usually thrives in. Explosions and groaning metal frames still ring clear in her mind.
The tank top she wears now isn't as destroyed as her prior one, but it's already seen some not-so-great days. Bruises and cuts are healing all over her body, including the scabbing wounds on her back and shoulders.]
[ She's seen enough of him— that is, the brief interlude between his wakefulness and his sleeping— to know that the placidity he wears like a second skin isn't all there is, but if Venom remembers that she's been privy to that, he hasn't shown it. He's as practical and fast-moving as ever, hand in his pacdisc and prosthetic digging through his belongings without preamble or prompting. ]
Keep working.
[ He doesn't need her to make conversation with him if she's busy, and what he's looking to do is straightforward enough: let's play a little bit of I Spy. Antiseptic, bandages, and water. All signs point to one objective. ]
[She had planned on doing just that anyway. She flexes her hands, fingers, closing and opening her grip. It feels painfully tight, but that was the price she paid for refusing to let anyone work on it but herself, and refusing to allow herself to be found back home.
In the brief moment she pauses, she glances at him, all full of medical goodies.]
You don't have to keep doing that.
[Because she already owes him, though it could be argued they're even.]</small.
[ This, right on the tail of being called 'bossy'. He breathes through his teeth, a bare-boned gesture of goodwill as he bridges the gap between them with slow, purposeful strides. ]
...Old habits die hard.
[ Regarding his propensity to reach for the medical supplies, he means. It's an obtuse statement, as cryptic as it is dryly self-deprecating.
He crouches down next to her, dabbing gauze in disinfectant. ]
You wanted me to teach you about how to survive in the field. Here's your first lesson: infections are your worst enemy.
[She'd seen enough people die on the streets out of infected wounds. She could only go half as far as she did in her stupider days because she actually bothered to look after the wounds properly.
Including the ones on her back.]
Why do you care?
[There it is, the question she can never hold back, because she's entirely too used to doing everything alone and no one looking after her.]
[ Good, gentle facetiousness still does wonders. Venom poises and starts around the outer perimeter of a still-healing gash first, mindful of the raw areas where the disinfectant would still burn.
The question Isha poses is hilariously and immensely pertinent to various facets of his life (why does he, still? what reason is there for him to care about anything?), but he doesn't provide an overcomplicated answer for it. ]
You're a crewmate.
[ He says, as if to reassure her that things can be that simple. Venom holds his families in high esteem, and while the Moira isn't his home (far from it), Venom still has loyalty in spades. It's the only virtue he can afford to extend. ]
—Didn't have my hands full with anything else, either.
[ He also figures that Isha isn't the type to want to make it too personal, so he doesn't. ]
[In truth, she had braced for some complicated answer, or one that would force her to reassess where she stands. Outside of her own team, she could never quite get used to anyone really doing anything for her, much less caring in a manner that would involve her wellbeing.
She sucks in air as soon as the disinfectant touches the raw parts of her skin, even if it's only a slight touch.]
So when you're bored you go around fixing people?
[She spreads her fingers. Electricity jumps between the tips of the prosthetic. At least that still works perfectly.]
[ She's asking all the difficult questions, huh!!!!!! But in all honesty, he doesn't have the liberty of answering a majority of the questions that pertain to who he is and why he does what he does. The real answer to a good portion of why he does what he does is his aversion to loss, to his sentimentalism. Neither of those facets of him suit a man of his position or the man playing the role he has to play, so he doesn't vocalize them.
Instead, he remains silent. Thoughtful.
Until he has to open his mouth again, that is. ]
No. You're unlucky, in that regard.
[ A wry semi-joke, before he presses on. ]
But you're strong. Capable. [ He brushes more disinfectant over the wound, then gets to work wrapping it. ] You also have unique skillsets. Don't see much of a point in you doing a disservice to yourself by pretending you're not worth medical attention.
[She tries not to scoff, but she does. So severely is she outclassed by anyone here that being considered 'strong' and 'capable' is almost a shock.]
Try telling that to everyone else here. [No one's ever told her otherwise, but she doesn't need to be told: being stuck in the arena made it clear that she could possibly never be able to survive without anyone stronger than herself.
She didn't want to rely on anyone, but how else could she live?] At best, I'm unpredictable, at worst, I'm a liability. Not entirely helped by all of this.
[She hated being like this, and hated that no one wanted to do anything about it. If she could dismantle this entire system herself...]
[ Venom listens with the seasoned patience of someone who's fielded grievances for years, and only opens his mouth when he finds the proper words for what he wants to say. Methodical, but without the neutrality of his previous statements. ]
Unpredictability can't be taught. You're right to list that as your best trait.
[ He doesn't touch on the liability portion, because he won't patronize by offering platitudes; she doesn't need them. ]
Besides, I didn't take you for the type to care about third party opinions.
[ Maybe it's just a matter of her being underutilized. That's a real possibility. ]
[If only he knew that her entire persona was built on the very fact that people thought she was worthless, would amount to nothing, was from neither here nor there.]
I can survive people. I'm not built to burn things on command or to shoot a man without thinking twice. And we shouldn't have to do these things so repeatedly. We came to this contract for whatever reasons, but it wasn't for persistent war or near-death experiences.
[Underneath the all-too-cool demeanor is anger. Anger that she can't work on her own terms, and normally, this wouldn't bother her. Adaptability became her, after all.
But when did it end and when would she simply cease to be out of the sheer fact that she simply can't keep up with the others? She would've been dead if it weren't for Arno's stubbornness to get her off the ship, or Ahab's medical assistance.
Something had to give.]
If I didn't know better I would imagine our esteemed captains were trying to kill us.
[ It occurs to Venom as an afterthought that what Isha's just described aren't routine occurrences to some people (most people). The terms of their contract are a familiar grind for Venom, so there's a momentary disconnect where his placidity conveys all there is to know about 'Venom Snake': that he hasn't even thought to be too indignant on his own behalf.
But this is about her, and he understands that people aren't meant to be peddled for loyalty and services. This isn't what any of them officially signed on for, and he can understand that her life, her purpose, isn't meant for this.
He watches her, and finishes cleaning up the last of the more offensive wounds to settle one palm on his bent knee. ]
What they're not doing is protecting us.
[ That's the reality of it, and he offers it simply. ] To them, we're collateral damage. They won't remember our names when we're gone.
[She gives him a look, scathing in every form, where the bark, for once, could be backed up with a bite.]
No, I happen to be the suicidal sort. Of course I want to fucking live. What do you think, I'm going to let these bastards take me on the sheer basis of their incompetence?
[Clearly she's pissed, and a side of her starts to come through that she constantly keeps down and in check: the street rat, the teenager, the young woman that could spit and string together curses and blow smoke at someone's face and quite possibly bite in the middle of a fight.]
If these idiots knew anything and gave a real shit about their mission they'd use all of us to their advantage and put us to the best use. Instead they use us like canon fodder, willing little soldiers in a war we never enlisted in. If they knew anything, they'd be putting me and my sort into better operations than all of this.
[She'd been careful to keep her words to herself, to lay low and not to make herself an open target. What did it matter anymore? They were stranded on a planet, with no clear means of getting off this rock just yet, and no real leadership. They should expect bitter hearts and bitter words.
And if they don't? They're even more incompetent than they're letting on.]
[ He knows where that bile is coming from, and he digests it. Analyzes. Understands. ]
You're not wrong.
[ If she expected him to talk her down from her anger... well, he doesn't. The truth of the matter is that she didn't sign her life away for whatever bullshit this is (even Venom acknowledges it), and her resentment isn't unfounded. ]
Which is why you're going to have to find other ways to keep going. I've already offered.
[She doesn't want to, though. She's got blood on her hands, and no matter how many times they tell her it's not her fault, it's all on her.
At least forty were found dead to her name. What of those never found? What of those disappeared without a trace? How many more bodies would surface at the hands of the man who pretended to be her?]
I don't want to kill, Ahab. I can kill. I know how to kill. I know where it hurts, where it bleeds. But murder is one thing I hadn't intended on crossing.
[It wasn't even a moral high ground. She truly believes she isn't prepared for that weight. She left a person bleeding and if they died, it was their own damn fault for not moving fast enough. But outright kill?]
You, Nathan, Arno. You should have left me back there. I'm of no use to anyone here outside of dead weight.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ A lie, mostly unintentional. Venom isn't terribly difficult at all when push comes to shove, but don't tell him that. ]
You're gonna let me find you?
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[If she weren't knee deep in repairs, she would've gladly taken up the challenge.]
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[ Isha, this place is like 50 thousand miles of fog and rocky terrain with the occasional abandoned settlements, throw him a bone. ]
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And he'll find her not too far from a medic tent, sitting on a rock with her sunglasses on and poring over her mechanical arm.]
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He keeps his focus on her with simmering intensity, but that isn't new. His silence isn't anything wildly unexpected, either, as he approaches and keeps a good few feet of distance between them. ]
Technical difficulties?
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[No need for him to know that she needs to doubly overcompensate her systems to make up for the fact that she literally can't feel a thing.
She can't say she knows him well, but she knows him well enough to be unsurprised by his silence. She welcomes it, actually, instead of the chaos that she usually thrives in. Explosions and groaning metal frames still ring clear in her mind.
The tank top she wears now isn't as destroyed as her prior one, but it's already seen some not-so-great days. Bruises and cuts are healing all over her body, including the scabbing wounds on her back and shoulders.]
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Keep working.
[ He doesn't need her to make conversation with him if she's busy, and what he's looking to do is straightforward enough: let's play a little bit of I Spy. Antiseptic, bandages, and water. All signs point to one objective. ]
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[She had planned on doing just that anyway. She flexes her hands, fingers, closing and opening her grip. It feels painfully tight, but that was the price she paid for refusing to let anyone work on it but herself, and refusing to allow herself to be found back home.
In the brief moment she pauses, she glances at him, all full of medical goodies.]
You don't have to keep doing that.
[Because she already owes him, though it could be argued they're even.]</small.
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...Old habits die hard.
[ Regarding his propensity to reach for the medical supplies, he means. It's an obtuse statement, as cryptic as it is dryly self-deprecating.
He crouches down next to her, dabbing gauze in disinfectant. ]
You wanted me to teach you about how to survive in the field. Here's your first lesson: infections are your worst enemy.
no subject
[She'd seen enough people die on the streets out of infected wounds. She could only go half as far as she did in her stupider days because she actually bothered to look after the wounds properly.
Including the ones on her back.]
Why do you care?
[There it is, the question she can never hold back, because she's entirely too used to doing everything alone and no one looking after her.]
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The question Isha poses is hilariously and immensely pertinent to various facets of his life (why does he, still? what reason is there for him to care about anything?), but he doesn't provide an overcomplicated answer for it. ]
You're a crewmate.
[ He says, as if to reassure her that things can be that simple. Venom holds his families in high esteem, and while the Moira isn't his home (far from it), Venom still has loyalty in spades. It's the only virtue he can afford to extend. ]
—Didn't have my hands full with anything else, either.
[ He also figures that Isha isn't the type to want to make it too personal, so he doesn't. ]
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She sucks in air as soon as the disinfectant touches the raw parts of her skin, even if it's only a slight touch.]
So when you're bored you go around fixing people?
[She spreads her fingers. Electricity jumps between the tips of the prosthetic. At least that still works perfectly.]
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Instead, he remains silent. Thoughtful.
Until he has to open his mouth again, that is. ]
No. You're unlucky, in that regard.
[ A wry semi-joke, before he presses on. ]
But you're strong. Capable. [ He brushes more disinfectant over the wound, then gets to work wrapping it. ] You also have unique skillsets. Don't see much of a point in you doing a disservice to yourself by pretending you're not worth medical attention.
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Try telling that to everyone else here. [No one's ever told her otherwise, but she doesn't need to be told: being stuck in the arena made it clear that she could possibly never be able to survive without anyone stronger than herself.
She didn't want to rely on anyone, but how else could she live?] At best, I'm unpredictable, at worst, I'm a liability. Not entirely helped by all of this.
[She hated being like this, and hated that no one wanted to do anything about it. If she could dismantle this entire system herself...]
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Unpredictability can't be taught. You're right to list that as your best trait.
[ He doesn't touch on the liability portion, because he won't patronize by offering platitudes; she doesn't need them. ]
Besides, I didn't take you for the type to care about third party opinions.
[ Maybe it's just a matter of her being underutilized. That's a real possibility. ]
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I can survive people. I'm not built to burn things on command or to shoot a man without thinking twice. And we shouldn't have to do these things so repeatedly. We came to this contract for whatever reasons, but it wasn't for persistent war or near-death experiences.
[Underneath the all-too-cool demeanor is anger. Anger that she can't work on her own terms, and normally, this wouldn't bother her. Adaptability became her, after all.
But when did it end and when would she simply cease to be out of the sheer fact that she simply can't keep up with the others? She would've been dead if it weren't for Arno's stubbornness to get her off the ship, or Ahab's medical assistance.
Something had to give.]
If I didn't know better I would imagine our esteemed captains were trying to kill us.
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But this is about her, and he understands that people aren't meant to be peddled for loyalty and services. This isn't what any of them officially signed on for, and he can understand that her life, her purpose, isn't meant for this.
He watches her, and finishes cleaning up the last of the more offensive wounds to settle one palm on his bent knee. ]
What they're not doing is protecting us.
[ That's the reality of it, and he offers it simply. ] To them, we're collateral damage. They won't remember our names when we're gone.
Do you want to live?
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No, I happen to be the suicidal sort. Of course I want to fucking live. What do you think, I'm going to let these bastards take me on the sheer basis of their incompetence?
[Clearly she's pissed, and a side of her starts to come through that she constantly keeps down and in check: the street rat, the teenager, the young woman that could spit and string together curses and blow smoke at someone's face and quite possibly bite in the middle of a fight.]
If these idiots knew anything and gave a real shit about their mission they'd use all of us to their advantage and put us to the best use. Instead they use us like canon fodder, willing little soldiers in a war we never enlisted in. If they knew anything, they'd be putting me and my sort into better operations than all of this.
[She'd been careful to keep her words to herself, to lay low and not to make herself an open target. What did it matter anymore? They were stranded on a planet, with no clear means of getting off this rock just yet, and no real leadership. They should expect bitter hearts and bitter words.
And if they don't? They're even more incompetent than they're letting on.]
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You're not wrong.
[ If she expected him to talk her down from her anger... well, he doesn't. The truth of the matter is that she didn't sign her life away for whatever bullshit this is (even Venom acknowledges it), and her resentment isn't unfounded. ]
Which is why you're going to have to find other ways to keep going. I've already offered.
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At least forty were found dead to her name. What of those never found? What of those disappeared without a trace? How many more bodies would surface at the hands of the man who pretended to be her?]
I don't want to kill, Ahab. I can kill. I know how to kill. I know where it hurts, where it bleeds. But murder is one thing I hadn't intended on crossing.
[It wasn't even a moral high ground. She truly believes she isn't prepared for that weight. She left a person bleeding and if they died, it was their own damn fault for not moving fast enough. But outright kill?]
You, Nathan, Arno. You should have left me back there. I'm of no use to anyone here outside of dead weight.