Jaime Reyes / Blue Beetle (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
khajidont) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-09-22 11:30 pm
khajidont) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-09-22 11:30 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Date & Time: After the nuke announcement, but before the nukes
Location: One of Exsilium's Churches
Characters: Helena Bertinelli (crossbearing) and Jaime Reyes
Summary: In the midst of the recent announcements and heated arguments over the network, Jaime ends up going to Church. Helena does too.
Warnings: Talk of war, etc. and VERY SAD PEOPLE 8(
There are no atheists in foxholes.
That's what his dad used to say, anyway, back before Jaime could so much as imagine what it would be like to see a war, let alone stand in the midst of one, running alongside people as unprepared and terrified as he was. He had a hard time thinking about his father in a war as long ago as it was; when he closed his eyes and imagined him, he imagined a quiet man with warm smiles, standing at a grill or puttering around the garage, smelling faintly of motor oil and sweat as he wiped down one of his tools.
Jaime wondered what his father would make of a war seemingly impossible to win and the unbearable options they were faced with, of the fact that Jaime himself was certain that not killing men was potentially as cruel as killing them. Knocking people unconscious on a battlefield was different from knocking them out in the streets of El Paso, where he could bring them quickly and safely to the police. He went one of Exsilium's Churches after that battle, but hadn't been back since, not even after so many Exiles had perished from bombs and disease shortly afterwards. It wasn't an active choice, or even something he had even given any thought. It had simply slipped his mind in the absence of every other ritual of his life replaced with little more than the reality at hand.
Now that the nukes had been announced, he was here again. Jaime wasn't certain what he expected out of coming back here, nor was he certain of what he could possibly pray for. Any irrational instinct to try to stay and help them, or to let someone go in his place had been quickly squashed by the combined forces of Steph and the Scarab alike and the reality that would be waiting for any Exile on the moonbase, bereft of home, family, and comrades alike, an exile in every sense of the word.
He had thought about it, had even been on the cusp of asking one man, and he had faltered. Would he leave, if he were them? Would he even want to know, to go rushing into UE territory to be gunned down in a blaze of fear and pain, or would he want to spend the rest of his days surrounded by families and friends in the comforting cradle of normalcy until it all just... ended. What was the right thing to do?
He wished that he could answer that question for himself even half as concretely as others on the network seemed to have answered them for himself. Instead, he was here. He stood by the pews at the very front of the room, arms hanging loosely at his side, and wondered.
Location: One of Exsilium's Churches
Characters: Helena Bertinelli (
crossbearing) and Jaime ReyesSummary: In the midst of the recent announcements and heated arguments over the network, Jaime ends up going to Church. Helena does too.
Warnings: Talk of war, etc. and VERY SAD PEOPLE 8(
There are no atheists in foxholes.
That's what his dad used to say, anyway, back before Jaime could so much as imagine what it would be like to see a war, let alone stand in the midst of one, running alongside people as unprepared and terrified as he was. He had a hard time thinking about his father in a war as long ago as it was; when he closed his eyes and imagined him, he imagined a quiet man with warm smiles, standing at a grill or puttering around the garage, smelling faintly of motor oil and sweat as he wiped down one of his tools.
Jaime wondered what his father would make of a war seemingly impossible to win and the unbearable options they were faced with, of the fact that Jaime himself was certain that not killing men was potentially as cruel as killing them. Knocking people unconscious on a battlefield was different from knocking them out in the streets of El Paso, where he could bring them quickly and safely to the police. He went one of Exsilium's Churches after that battle, but hadn't been back since, not even after so many Exiles had perished from bombs and disease shortly afterwards. It wasn't an active choice, or even something he had even given any thought. It had simply slipped his mind in the absence of every other ritual of his life replaced with little more than the reality at hand.
Now that the nukes had been announced, he was here again. Jaime wasn't certain what he expected out of coming back here, nor was he certain of what he could possibly pray for. Any irrational instinct to try to stay and help them, or to let someone go in his place had been quickly squashed by the combined forces of Steph and the Scarab alike and the reality that would be waiting for any Exile on the moonbase, bereft of home, family, and comrades alike, an exile in every sense of the word.
He had thought about it, had even been on the cusp of asking one man, and he had faltered. Would he leave, if he were them? Would he even want to know, to go rushing into UE territory to be gunned down in a blaze of fear and pain, or would he want to spend the rest of his days surrounded by families and friends in the comforting cradle of normalcy until it all just... ended. What was the right thing to do?
He wished that he could answer that question for himself even half as concretely as others on the network seemed to have answered them for himself. Instead, he was here. He stood by the pews at the very front of the room, arms hanging loosely at his side, and wondered.
one day I will have more than one appropriate icon for this mood
It's not a search that has been going well. The people are so loud, conflicting voices yelling over each other on either side, both correct, both wrong, but any voice of moral certainty has remained utterly silent. He's starting to think that answers began to run dry the day he saw war for himself, the day he came away from a battle, took a good, hard looks at himself and wasn't sure if he liked what he saw there.
His jaw works, and he scrubs one hand across his face. "Never thought it'd come to this."
just photoshop all your happy icons to have ":(" over his face
On any other day that would have sounded a little more wry. Right now, it's bitter, because it feels like all her faith has done is fail her. Or did she simply fail her faith, before she even knew what it was to make a poor decision? She had wondered, when she was younger, if God had punished her praying for her father's death by taking her brother and her mother as well, by killing everyone, and if her entire life was a domino effect of begging for answers and being punished for her arrogance, for some undeniable corruption inside her.
"Me neither." Her anger is subdued, but only for Jaime, only for his sake, hand sliding from his shoulder to rub up and down his back in case that grip turned to hard, bruising instead of soothing. Venomous, she bites out her words. "How did this world get so screwed up? How did this happen?" Is humanity that inherently flawed, this monstrous?
summary of the exsilium experience tbh
Helena is voicing what everyone's been thinking, but that doesn't mean that any answers are forthcoming. They can read the Initiative's files all they want, but no sense of history will be able to explain this away, the sheer ruthlessness of what they're facing. He doesn't even bother to adding his own questions to hers, momentarily lost for words.
no subject
Trying to bring comfort to someone else who is lost isn't inaction, though. Eventually, she tugs - truly tugs, because she feels like there is resistance, protest - her gaze away from broken down icons and lets it settle on Jaime.
"Do you pray?" Somewhere between an offer and a simple question, as she tilts her head towards the pews.
no subject
He's never had too much cause to pray beyond the times he's expected to. He knows now how tremendously lucky he's been to never have felt the sudden desire to go to Church as he is now, to ask for forgiveness and guidance. Back home, his prayers are nothing of the kind, save for thanks and the ever-enduring hope for continued safety and happiness present in any family.
Jaime follows her gaze to the pews. He's not sure what he had initially come here for, but prayer was somewhere in the muddled mess of his mind. It hadn't occurred to him that he would be praying with someone.
"Did you want to...?"
no subject
It used to be enough for her, although those days are long, long ago. She needed to ask questions and interrogate and beg God for answers before her parents died.
no subject
He leads the way to sit down at the pews, an oddly eerie feeling in this empty, broken-down place.
no subject
"Do you know the rosary?" Do you have a rosary? was a question that she figured the answer to was no, but even so. Her voice is quiet, observing the importance of the place even if it is broken down as she follows him, letting him pick where he'd like to sit or kneel.
no subject
"I don't have one, though."
and then I didn't press post comment for hours :|
She had plenty of problems with religion and her faith, but they need this, right now. It's why she starts leading them, just murmuring the words quietly. It's important to take this time and it's important to grieve, even if it can't possibly be enough, and her hands are gripping each bead too hard before she moves to the next, and the next after that.
it's ok, we're already rocking the backtagging thing anyway ;)
Here, he feels something he has to ask forgiveness for, a deep shame that he can practically feel rolling deep in his gut, sticking to his ribs. His voice is steady at first, but by the middle it's wobbling and it doesn't take long after that before he chokes and has to cut himself off, gritting his teeth and shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes.