And for a minute or two, your mask of friendly composure comes dangerously close to slipping. Your aura spikes with murderous intent, a white-hot surge of wounded rage crackling forth from your end of the mental link — the fingers of both hands crook inward just slightly, yearning to turn into fists. How dare she. How dare she lay bare the incontestable blueprint of your soul and look at you with such tenderness. Her affection is a steel-jawed trap; her goodwill is a poisonous lie. The proof of that is just not all around you, but inside you as well, from Eleanor's seething presence within your mind to the marks on your wrists.

The space of a heartbeat. Two, three, four. Then your empty smile grows a touch wider, and your anger and grief is forced back into the cage where it belongs. You gesture to Eleanor with a shrug that gives every appearance of being nonplussed.

"As you can see, Miss Lamb, that's a rather....lofty hope you've entrusted me with. I'd be flattered by your faith in me, but I don't want to become arrogant."

There's no surprise at Eleanor's fiery resistance, only a twinge of exasperation. You didn't expect her to chime in and match your fake sycophancy by any means, but their position was precarious, and futile threats against the one that held all the keys would not make it any less so. Sophia had found the means to choke off her daughter's powers at will; Euphoria will not burn today, nor any time soon.

You glance at your "partner" again, but with resignation this time. Because as much as you were loathe to admit it, Sophia's analysis of you is accurate, especially when it came to the way you picked your battles with strategic care. Cunning and patience are your favored tools of achieving victory. Even if it meant the occasional retreat or temporary surrender, you never ran headlong into a fight that you couldn't win — not unless there was no other option left. And here, the only path forward was a narrow tightrope stretched thin over a hungry chasm....a path that only you could navigate.

A thoughtful pause. You add, delicately:

"But my feelings are irrelevant, of course. What would you have us do?"

Because of course they weren't brought here to be told obvious truths, nor to simply be cruelly taunted by the insurmountable fact of their powerlessness. Sophia was many ugly, despicable things, but above all she was purposeful. There was always a reason behind her machinations, a method to the madness.

Sophia's regard turns once again to Eleanor, who glowers back at her, trying to contain the worst of her fury.

"Eleanor, it's time that you began to dedicate yourself, your talents, to the people. To our Flock."

Catching sight of the expression on Eleanor's face (revulsion, fury, denial), Sophia presses her lips together into a thin line. "But... you have had a surfeit of death of late. Delta's corruption will take years to undo. I know you will see the light, in time. But for now, if you must bloody your hands, then I will ask that you do it in service of the greater good.....as a messiah, bringing destruction and redemption to those beyond my power to save."

There's a moment of silence, and then Eleanor laughs, a disbelieving sound. "You want an assassin, Mother?"

Sophia sighs heavily, voice wistful and full of regret.

"These are difficult times, Eleanor. We are at war. Ryan and Fontaine tear each other apart in secret battles, hiding their knives in the dark, and they will soon turn on the Flock as well. Yours will be the act of a merciful savior; you will bring them deliverance, and their ADAM will live on in your genes, in your memory. They will be reborn."

This is what Sophia wants from her daughter. To kill in Sophia's name, in the Flock's name....... Eleanor knows she'll need much more power to escape, power enough to make good on her vengeance. She can use this.

Eleanor lifts her chin.

"Fine."

Your mind works quickly, rapid-fire thoughts behind an inscrutable gaze. So that was the truth of it.....the core of Sofia's intentions laid bare. There's no doubt that other details have been withheld from them, but you don't pay those missing pieces any further thought. There would be plenty of time, you're sure, to dwell upon them once this debriefing concludes and they are ushered out from beneath Sophia's knowing gaze.

Eleanor's acquiescence provokes a certain measure of private surprise, not in part because it comes with less of a fight than you had been expecting, but after a minute you swallow a bitter chuckle — you can only guess that your unwilling partner must have found a way to turn this forced arrangement to her advantage somehow.

At least in that, the two of you are alike. You have no intention of biding your time just to accomplish nothing. Every person, every plan, had a flaw that could be taken advantage of. It was only a matter of finding that weakness and properly exploiting it.

"Ah, so we're all in agreement? Excellent!" You almost sound genuinely pleased with the warped excuse for cooperation that's been established. Another pulse of black anger shudders through your aura, but it's dull this time. A muted, brooding resentment pulsing in the background like a sick heartbeat. "What sort of task should we pursue first, Miss Lamb?"

There's the slightest hint of rebellious knowledge in your polite, compliant smile. You already understand that there was little chance that their duties (Eleanor's duties) would only involve assassination. Sophia always made the most of her chosen tools, and using Eleanor only for slaughter would be a foolish waste of her daughter's abilities.

Eleanor glances back at you, mouth tightening, not bothering to hide the contempt in her gaze.

Sofia watches you both for a moment longer, blue eyes knowing, before she raises her voice again. Gone is the benevolent concern, the mother and guide. She turns to the two of you now as the charismatic leader whose voice had lead the citizens of Euphoria to riot.

"Ryan Amusements is Ryan's pet project, a monstrous construction equal only to the height of his ego. It is a breeding ground for his cult of personality, dedicated to propaganda and the formative corruption of the young. It also serves as a training base for his armies of indoctrinated splicers. To cut off their supply of ADAM at its source, Eleanor, your first task is to remove the Little Sisters of Ryan Amusements. I have no intention of leaving Euphoria's flow of ADAM and implants in Ryan's control any longer. Unfortunate children that they are, their energies would be better directed in the Flock's service."

Eleanor stares at her mother. "They're not children anymore, Mother. They're monsters. You know that as well as I." A growl. "Is that it, then? Are we done here? I'll need my suit and helmet back, unless you'd like it to be splashed all about the tabloids...."Lamb's Daughter Spotted in Ryan Amusements." Just think of all the amusing taglines that would follow."

You don't need to make eye contact to be privy to Eleanor's contempt — you can feel it in her gaze, in your shared link, that familiar acid burn of disapproval. You don't blame her one bit, not when the disgust you harbor toward yourself is far greater. Yes, it's sickeningly easy for you to lie and play two-faced games of mannerly charm......what's difficult is keeping a wild bark of hysterical laughter at Sophia's brazen hypocrisy from tearing itself free from your throat. All this talk of Ryan's ego, Ryan's faults, Ryan's evil — as though his and Fontaine's are the only soiled hands in Euphoria.

The bitter, hollow amusement quickly turns into a sour dread that settles uneasily in the pit of your stomach. You still can't bring yourself to think of the Little Sisters the way that most people in Euphoria did. They weren't monsters or walking pools of ADAM to be drained dry and then discarded, but unfortunate souls that didn't deserve the awful fate that had befallen them. There was no future for the Little Sisters, no chance to ever again know a normal, happy life. They had been robbed of their innocence and humanity and it broke what remained of your heart no matter how foolish, how futile it was to care about those doomed little girls.

You lacked the power to save them, and no one in Euphoria that mattered wanted to save them. In this underwater "paradise", power was everything, even if it came at the expense of innocent children. Nothing was sacred. You understood that, knew better than to pretend otherwise.....because if the traumatized, penniless orphan of the Tomoe family had been a girl instead, chances are that "she" would have wound up as a Little Sister too.

A Little Sister accompanied nearly everywhere by a Big Daddy that would defend her with wild, berserk strength. You take in the ruined state of your suit for the second time and makes a mental note to seek out new clothes only after the mission at hand has been dealt with.

"While I think that Euphoria could do with a few laughs, I have to agree."

Edited 2015-04-25 08:09 pm (UTC)