[It's an interesting thought, and one that Markus is not quick to discard.]
They're very much human, or at least... organic. But whatever their minds are filled with, it isn’t— [It isn’t what? Isn’t empathy, isn’t human? Maybe it’s the drugs making it difficult to articulate, or maybe it’s the way this subject interposes itself with what he knows from home, but Markus hesitates.] —natural. Something else is at the helm. Whether it’s ancillary programming from an implant, or suit, or impossibly conditioned training…
[He shakes his head, casting his gaze to the side briefly.]
They remind me of androids back home, the ones that haven’t woken up. That haven’t discovered self-awareness yet. Adapting and working in-tandem with each other beyond what should be possible for a human. We might need to consider what would make something like that possible in this world.
[But that can be saved for a time when they’re not downtrodden and exhausted. When they’re in the right of mind to think of anything other than how their bodies hurt and how the ones close to them might be equally injured.]
But we all did the best that we could. It’s hard not to feel guilty about split-second decisions in retrospect, but all that matters is that you’re safe. You mentioned Illya, is he all right?
[ they're both muddling through challenges in speech, trying to battle the intentionally sedative medical care in order to exchange information; it's an exhausting process, and by the time markus shares his comparison and concerns, it doesn't take a trained medical student to recognize the effect the conversation has. ]
You're right. I was thinking LMDs, but — [ she pauses, more necessity than dramatic effect, and her nose wrinkles a bit in distaste ] — but I think you're right.
[ as per usual, her immediate go-to: ] We should talk to Fitz. See if he can ... you know, fill in the gaps.
[ but that's all she has to contribute right now; markus' deft changing of the subject is highly appreciated, even if it means having to answer questions that require her to think for very different reasons. like not letting her cheeks heat up in response, for one thing. ]
He's okay. [ she sounds relieved to say it. ] Broken hand, but nothing major. He, uh. He carried me back, actually.
[They’ll manage to string words together, even if they both have to pick up the ends of each other’s sentences and tie them in knots. He shakes his head.]
It’s fine. As good of a reason as any to not have checked in. [Easily dismissed, not wanting her to feel bad about it.] We’ll bring it up with Fitz once everything finally quiets down.
[He’s trying to pinpoint exactly what it is he feels, like something still hanging unresolved — not necessarily between himself and Daisy, but lingering in the wake of their circumstances. In something she’s said.]
...Was he upset? You said you haven’t heard from him.
[ she doesn't say anything at first, just offers a non-committal shrug of her shoulders up and down, her gaze dropping to peer at her hands in her lap where they're idly picking at the fabric of the blanket draped over her legs. ]
I don't know. [ she knows too much and yet not enough, though none of it makes sense. ] I mean, I do. He was.
[ but. she starts and stops, mouth opening and closing as if of its own accord; there's a moment of silence and then daisy groans in frustration, lips pressing together in a firm line. ]
He's mad at me. Or he was, for getting myself hurt. But he hasn't come by...
[ does that matter? should it matter? she can't seem to figure that part out. would she care if it was someone else? the problem is, the control in daisy's mental experiment isn't a control at all. it's fitz, a man she's bonded to far beyond casual friendship, and what fitz would do or feel in the wake of daisy's self-sacrificing recklessness is not inherently what a casual friend would. in comparing the two, daisy finds herself unable to evade the fact that illya, too, isn't "just a friend".
and that isn't something she's totally ready to do yet. thus, the conflict. ]
[How parallel their circumstances run is uncanny. That in the moment, one doesn’t hesitate to throw themselves in the line of figurative fire for another. Bodily injury means so little when you can shoulder the burden from someone else. Protecting those that you care about the most paramount thing of all. The consequences at the time have so little bearing that they might as well not exist.
But after the fact is when they do bear down, when emotion strings everyone up and one has to live with the choices made. Markus knows this. Remembers what he had done to Connor, instilling him with anxious fear, near-panic when he was bleeding out, their fingers desperately intwined to put pressure on the bleeding.
It’s a strange mixture of guilt and the assuredness that you’d do nothing differently. Markus wonders if Daisy feels similarly.]
Emotions are running high. It’s… easy to get upset when people you care about are involved, he might just need time to himself for now. Talk to him, when you feel better.
Yeah. [ agreement for agreement's sake, though she doesn't sound entirely convinced. she's partially too tired, but it's mostly the simple fact that she doesn't want to spoil markus' unexpected visit with arguing about something she doesn't even have an argument for. easier just to agree, and figure out how she feels later. ] I will.
[ she's quiet for a moment, drowsiness blotting her features as she drags fingertips down and across her eyes and cheeks. eventually, though, her hands drop into her lap; one reaches out, her fingers curling around his palm in a soft embrace. ]
Thank you, though. [ a squeeze, just barely ] I was starting to get a little lonely in my quarantine bubble.
[He knows the words aren’t enough to wipe away the uncertainty, or the guilt. That’s the thickest kind of air that can only be cleared between her and Illya, and Markus can only give advice and whatever comfort that might make it easier until then.
His palm curls gently around her fingers, a touch barely-there, but carrying poignant weight between two friends. He just shakes his head again.]
Not a problem at all, Daisy. I was, too. [He takes in the tiredness on her face, exhaustion dragging through her features, debating if he wants to let conversation trail on longer, to explore what might be harassing her mind—
But right now, it’s her body that needs the rest more than anything else.]
If you need me for anything, I’ll be nearby. You should try to sleep for now.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
They're very much human, or at least... organic. But whatever their minds are filled with, it isn’t— [It isn’t what? Isn’t empathy, isn’t human? Maybe it’s the drugs making it difficult to articulate, or maybe it’s the way this subject interposes itself with what he knows from home, but Markus hesitates.] —natural. Something else is at the helm. Whether it’s ancillary programming from an implant, or suit, or impossibly conditioned training…
[He shakes his head, casting his gaze to the side briefly.]
They remind me of androids back home, the ones that haven’t woken up. That haven’t discovered self-awareness yet. Adapting and working in-tandem with each other beyond what should be possible for a human. We might need to consider what would make something like that possible in this world.
[But that can be saved for a time when they’re not downtrodden and exhausted. When they’re in the right of mind to think of anything other than how their bodies hurt and how the ones close to them might be equally injured.]
But we all did the best that we could. It’s hard not to feel guilty about split-second decisions in retrospect, but all that matters is that you’re safe. You mentioned Illya, is he all right?
no subject
You're right. I was thinking LMDs, but — [ she pauses, more necessity than dramatic effect, and her nose wrinkles a bit in distaste ] — but I think you're right.
[ as per usual, her immediate go-to: ] We should talk to Fitz. See if he can ... you know, fill in the gaps.
[ but that's all she has to contribute right now; markus' deft changing of the subject is highly appreciated, even if it means having to answer questions that require her to think for very different reasons. like not letting her cheeks heat up in response, for one thing. ]
He's okay. [ she sounds relieved to say it. ] Broken hand, but nothing major. He, uh. He carried me back, actually.
[ is that relevant? ]
I was unconscious — that's why I didn't check in.
[ sorry about that. ]
no subject
It’s fine. As good of a reason as any to not have checked in. [Easily dismissed, not wanting her to feel bad about it.] We’ll bring it up with Fitz once everything finally quiets down.
[He’s trying to pinpoint exactly what it is he feels, like something still hanging unresolved — not necessarily between himself and Daisy, but lingering in the wake of their circumstances. In something she’s said.]
...Was he upset? You said you haven’t heard from him.
no subject
I don't know. [ she knows too much and yet not enough, though none of it makes sense. ] I mean, I do. He was.
[ but. she starts and stops, mouth opening and closing as if of its own accord; there's a moment of silence and then daisy groans in frustration, lips pressing together in a firm line. ]
He's mad at me. Or he was, for getting myself hurt. But he hasn't come by...
[ does that matter? should it matter? she can't seem to figure that part out. would she care if it was someone else? the problem is, the control in daisy's mental experiment isn't a control at all. it's fitz, a man she's bonded to far beyond casual friendship, and what fitz would do or feel in the wake of daisy's self-sacrificing recklessness is not inherently what a casual friend would. in comparing the two, daisy finds herself unable to evade the fact that illya, too, isn't "just a friend".
and that isn't something she's totally ready to do yet. thus, the conflict. ]
I don't know.
no subject
But after the fact is when they do bear down, when emotion strings everyone up and one has to live with the choices made. Markus knows this. Remembers what he had done to Connor, instilling him with anxious fear, near-panic when he was bleeding out, their fingers desperately intwined to put pressure on the bleeding.
It’s a strange mixture of guilt and the assuredness that you’d do nothing differently. Markus wonders if Daisy feels similarly.]
Emotions are running high. It’s… easy to get upset when people you care about are involved, he might just need time to himself for now. Talk to him, when you feel better.
no subject
[ she's quiet for a moment, drowsiness blotting her features as she drags fingertips down and across her eyes and cheeks. eventually, though, her hands drop into her lap; one reaches out, her fingers curling around his palm in a soft embrace. ]
Thank you, though. [ a squeeze, just barely ] I was starting to get a little lonely in my quarantine bubble.
no subject
His palm curls gently around her fingers, a touch barely-there, but carrying poignant weight between two friends. He just shakes his head again.]
Not a problem at all, Daisy. I was, too. [He takes in the tiredness on her face, exhaustion dragging through her features, debating if he wants to let conversation trail on longer, to explore what might be harassing her mind—
But right now, it’s her body that needs the rest more than anything else.]
If you need me for anything, I’ll be nearby. You should try to sleep for now.
[They both should.]