Psyche Callista (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chrysaline) wrote2023-05-24 06:03 pm
chrysaline) wrote2023-05-24 06:03 pm
PCs with Medea (jk) (unless)
Date of writing is noted in the header! If Medea or Psyche destroys a letter, I'll note when that happens.
Date of writing is noted in the header! If Medea or Psyche destroys a letter, I'll note when that happens.
Week 2, Wednesday
There's so much to tell you that I don't know where to start. What a strange situation I've found myself in... When I think of everything we've been through in the last year, I have to laugh a little. There were so many times when I thought I really couldn't go on. Compared to that, it almost feels like this can't scare me anymore.
I hope I won't worry you by putting it like that. I hope there's never a reason for you to read this at all... When I spoke to Ho-oh, he made it sound like people wouldn't appear here unless they brought them here on purpose. But other things from our worlds fall through just the same, so I'm writing this just in case. If you find yourself here unexpectedly, I want to give you as much information as I can. Especially if I won't be here to explain it.
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Week 4, Wednesday
I promise I'll write a longer letter when I have a chance. I know I should tell you how the trials work, and the executions. Just in case. But this time I have a favor to ask, and it's urgent.
This isn't a plea for you to save me. My determination to move forward with my own strength hasn't changed. But I need your wisdom so badly right now. I'll give you two hours; I hope that should be enough? I'm sure the situation for you is delicate right now too, and I don't want to make things difficult.
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Week 4, Wednesday LATE
I'm glad that you kept your expectations moderate. Please believe that it pains me to dash your hopes. Those symptoms could describe any number of poisons; even removing other considerations, such as the very likely possibility that the world you find yourself in has substances I'm wholly unaware of. I hardly think I need remind you not to go about recklessly putting things in your mouth. You're considerably smaller than your Wei Wuxian and have no poison resistance to speak of. Recall that you can't simply heal if something were to happen.
Let me preface this by emphasizing that putting too much stock in any hypothesis from me under these circumstances could well lead you astray. If forced to guess—which I would refuse to do, if I didn't know that saying nothing would only increase your worries—I would suspect arsenic poisoning. It can be administered as a powder to liquids and has no smell or taste, which would make it difficult to find traces. A small amount could easily be fatal, and it is fast-acting if used so. Therefore, if this were to be the cause, it's unlikely that anyone wanted him dead. If the dosage were over a period of time, you ought to be able to find white lines on his nails and coarser skin on the hands and feet. "Beelzebub" may be able to detect the scent of garlic.
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Week 5, Wednesday again
The poisoner picked a second target, like you thought. It's almost like with Wei Wuxian. Xiao, "ironlotus" Xiao, was given something that caused her powers to go out of control. Wang Lu, Waltaquin, and Zelkov fought her — and they had to kill her to stop her. She was always so calm and reserved. There's no way she would have done this willingly.
I promise this will be the last time. I'll make certain of it. We'll be having another meeting for this, and I know you'll learn more from it than I would. Maybe something you know can help the others put a stop to this. I hope two hours again will be enough. Please, do whatever you can to help them through this.
I know sending you to a meeting is a little risky. But you can fool Eros and my parents, and I don't think most people here know me any better than they do. Wei Wuxian and Waltaquin won't say anything. I'll try to find a chance to warn Wang Lu. I think Xiao and Temenos are the most likely to realize; I like them both, so please handle them gently. I wish there were more warning I could give.
I can't summarize everything that's happened here easily. But at least let me give you an outline of the things no one would believe I've forgotten. There's been a death on the Friday of each week. Merlin was killed in the first week by the administrators. Chai by Sonya next, then Vergilius by Lobelia. Both Kallamar and Skywarp last week... Kallamar was killed by Kanon, but we never found Skywarp's murderer. The more I write, the heavier the failure feels. We're all trying everything we can, but we're still losing people faster and faster. I'm going to make it impossible for you to believe I can handle this, aren't I? But I'm going to keep fighting.
Something strange has been happening with the dead as well. We've been receiving messages from them somehow. I'm certain it was Merlin. It's too much to wish for when we can't even protect the people remaining here, but I want to find a way to help them, too. Merlin told us to "live and resolve the situation." If he believes it's still possible, then so will I. I'm meandering now... I just wish I could speak to you face-to-face. I hope the next time we talk will be.
Please don't put yourself in any danger for his. I won't hope for a miracle. If you do what you can, that would be enough. There aren't enough words to thank you, but still: thank you, Medea.
Love,
Psyche
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Week 6, Thursday post-meeting (cw: depression throughout)
In so many ways — this may be my last letter. I don't want to leave anything left unsaid, but I hardly know where to begin.
Should I explain what else happened on Monday? I'm sure you had no confusion when you found yourself here. You and Waltaquin were both right to suspect that one of us was the one poisoning the others. Though, you may owe me some explanations too. I heard from Wei Wuxian that you kissed Waltaquin? I really wish we had the time for gossip. I've tried so hard to imagine what it was you were thinking, but this may be beyond my depth. I hope it doesn't make the request I have for you more painful.
Things were in chaos for a little while, but everyone seems to have decided to work with Billy moving forward. I don't know that everyone forgives him, although Lacus does. But everyone believes that we don't have the luxury of internal conflicts when we need to focus our attention on the administrators and finding a way out. I wonder if this is cynicism catching up to me; I don't see any reason for Billy to give his loyalty to us. What he wants is a drug he can use against those with powers when he returns home. The situation there does sound truly terrible. Not so different from the nobility of Vasilios. Power is power, isn't it? Money or rank, physical or magical. There are people who enjoy hurting others, and who know that with the power they have, they can't be stopped. Or people who simply don't see the lives of the powerless as having any meaning. I can't help thinking, again, what Eros would do if he succeeds in taking my divinity.
I understand so well. But I still can't forgive Billy. And I can't trust him. It's the same, isn't it? The people he wants to defeat see those weaker than them as less than nothing. He sees us the same way. It doesn't matter that Xiao died, or that Wei Wuxian was hurt. The cost is easy for him to pay because they didn't have value to him. Is this really my rational judgment? Or am I emotional about what happened? I just don't think it makes sense for him to make a deal with the administrators for a poison without having a plan for him to return home to use it. He's too practical. He would have secured his next steps with his allies. If he helps us, it would be for the convenience of the moment, and he'd change sides again as easily. I don't want to be right about this, but I won't be caught by surprise again.
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Week 6, Thursday night
Rest assured that I intend to honor the promise you made on my behalf. Whatever strange impression you may have been given, this will weigh no more on my heart than any before it. I will admit that, were it to become necessary, I feel it would be a waste. I will convey the message myself. The information you've given me is more than enough for that.
Did you expect me to become sentimental simply because this may be the last letter we exchange? Surely not. You know me too well for that. Your predictions of my reactions are largely correct. Nonetheless, I will say it plainly. If you wish to go, then go. That should be enough.
But I know you entirely too well, as well. Certainly you recoiled just then. You thought, "that would be selfish." "I can't let my desires and my feelings bring harm to others." "How can I justify this, when I'm needed elsewhere?" It is in every line of the letter you left me. You are maddening. I could provide you the logical counterarguments, of course. I do not require your divinity to see my plans through to their completion. I could point out that moving your powers beyond Eros' reach pulls the fangs of the most plausible threat he might present to me. Would you like my word that I will cease knowingly drinking poison or walking into burning buildings, as I did before I ever discovered your healing? I will not give it. I will act as I see fit, pursuing what I want, as I always have. I will hear no complaints from the one who threw my body from a balcony to prove she was in deadly earnest. We both use the tools at our disposal, including our own selves. I, at least, do not do so without consideration.
You expect me to argue by logic, so I will not. You are more stubborn than stone when it suits you; and I have never chosen to fight a fair battle that would put me at an unneeded disadvantage. Let me meet you on the terms you set, then. I, too, will leave nothing left unsaid.
On the night in the garden when you pulled me back from the brink of death, I spoke to your god. Does that shock you? The god who claims to love you, who never answered, showed me everything you keep hidden in your heart. Do you begin to understand what I meant when I said I had no intention of fighting fairly? You know me well; I know you in a way you could not guard against. I saw your childhood, and the depths of Eros' betrayal. I know how ardently you prayed for peace. I know what wish you truly sent up to the god on the day of prayer. Are you angry yet at the violation? Good. Then you will be in the right state of mind to read my words, because I am angry.
How long do you intend to allow yourself to be moved from one cage to the next? From the basement to the gilded bars of the greenhouse, from the sealed gates of the Callista manor to the confinement of a betrothal intended to end in your death, from the contract for your freedom to this ridiculous island you find yourself on — are you not yet satisfied with being penned in to this extent? Do you believe you need to bind yourself further with a sense of duty hung like a millstone around your neck? You dare write me a letter lamenting being unable to fulfill what you are "good for"? Must I be the one to remind you that you are neither a sacred artifact to be broken for your power, nor a fuel for someone else's magics? No creature is brought into the world needing to justify its own existence. I am the last person who should need to explain this to you.
People may be hurt if you choose to leave Vasilios. They may be hurt if you return. People in another world that you might have helped could be hurt if you pick a different future. Will you stand in place, waiting to make your decision until you can divine what path of the hundreds or thousands before you hurts the fewest people? You know better. You put it quite well yourself in your letter, did you not? "People die every day. It is often senseless, cruel, empty." It is true. No matter how much you might wish to, you cannot possibly prevent all of it. You will break yourself in trying. Do not become so absorbed in tallying your failures that you forget to accord worth to those you have helped.
Live imperfectly. I learned that from you. And don't make that face; I'm not mocking you. It truly can become your strength. At times you will do all you can and you will still lose people. You've lived this before. Sometimes, they will be those you love dearly. There is no level of strength you can reach to ensure otherwise: we move forward nonetheless. When I told you to rise higher, to become someone, did you imagine that there would ever be a time when there would be nothing left at risk? If there is such a peaceful world anywhere out there, I hope you find it.
I will not tell you not to doubt yourself. Blind confidence would be as hobbling as blind doubt. If you wish to grow, and if you ever wish to understand yourself, then keep questioning. I write this to myself as much as I do to you. If I truly am leaving nothing left unsaid, then you should know that you have changed me irreparably. I no longer know with certainty who I am becoming. I make reckless moves that may well produce more losses in the long term. I act erratically, irrationally. I provoke a fight I do not need. And yet... you ask me in your letter why you are so angry. I believe I know you well enough to answer — or perhaps, I will answer for us both. Your anger and your pain is proportional to your care. You hate injustice, and always have. It is simple naivete. You will never play on equal footing with those who see the pieces on the board as disposable, when you yourself hesitate to lose even one. It may always hurt you as much as it does right now. And yet I find myself hoping you will never allow fear to make you less than you are.
Let yourself be angry. Let yourself cry. It is hard and it is unfair and it is wretched. Shall I recommend my infamous rages as worth your consideration? The next time you truly wish to surrender: break something. It is futile, but it is liberating. I mean it only half in jest. Let me repeat myself, lest you have overlooked it the first time. Live imperfectly; but, live. Fearlessness is all very well when you have no options and nothing left to lose. But know your goals clearly in your heart before you choose that, as well as what you stand to forfeit for it. If you wish to give up, then rest. Does any burden become lighter because you refuse to set it down for even a moment? You are not a god or a saint. You are one foolish, stubborn, willful girl. You cannot save everyone, and you cannot love everyone. No one expects that from you, save yourself. The love in you is more than enough.
You are enough, Psyche. You deserve happiness. I am not such a generous soul that I would say that of many people. But I wish it for you as fiercely as I have ever desired anything. And it is something I cannot give to you, like a gift, but instead must wait for you to reach for of your own accord. How infuriating it is to be helpless. I will not tell you which choice to make. It is yours, and will always be. I believe you can find happiness down whichever path you choose. And I believe you already know your answer, if you are brave enough to be honest with yourself. I asked you before what it was you wished to become. I will ask you again, not for my own knowledge, but for yours. Do not choose from fear of regret or from obligation. This is not a fairy tale; a happy ending is insufficient. Choose the path that leads to the person you wish to be.
I see no need for tearful farewells. I am beholden to your god for nothing and I have no need of miracles, either. This is neither a prayer nor something as flimsy as a wish. It is simply certainty: whatever you choose, we will meet again. And I will show you a Vasilios you can be proud of as well. Move forward, Psyche. Never doubt that I will do the same.
Always,
Medea Solon