Atton's Apartment, Manhattan, New York City, Thursday Afternoon

[suitably_heroic]

You know, Atton was finally starting to get into a rhythm with this life, a daily and weekly routine. It hadn't saved him from careening past an episode of... something... last week, but now that the reality of the potentially-long stretch of life in front of him had settled in-- well, it at least kept his sanity intact.

End of the week was usually Lana time. They'd spent some time earlier that day sparring in the band's practice space. It'd been a good workout.

But now he was home, holding the door open for Lana to come on in. "You're welcome to grab a shower, if you want."

[[ expecting one, but as always open for messages and phone calls ]]

Comments

[suitably_heroic]

Atton's eyebrows shot up.

"When Malachor happened, it turned an entire army's worth of Force sensitives to the Dark Side," he said quietly.

[unusual_sith]

"I've never been to the system," Lana said. "Though excavations have been done safely in my time. If it feels anything like Ziost does or Nathema did, I'm surprised anybody emerged sane."

[suitably_heroic]

"I don't know how you got out of that with just nightmares," Atton said, watching her. "I-- can do a lot of excavation on myself, but I'm never going to know who I would've been if--"

So much death.

[unusual_sith]

"I don't honestly know, either," Lana said. "I just kept going. I was probably a bit numb for a while, but there was so much to do, I had plenty to channel it into. I imagine anyone I had to interrogate back then still has nightmares, too."

[suitably_heroic]

Atton stared at his mostly-empty glass.

"I just wanted to die," he said.

[unusual_sith]

"I felt responsible," Lana answered quietly. "I was down on the surface, working against him. I thought we had won. We were on the shuttle station when it started."

[suitably_heroic]

"What happened?"

Atton's voice had gone so quiet, it was barely a breath.

[unusual_sith]

"Vitiate," Lana answered, staring at the far side of the room. "The former Emperor. He drowned the capital in aggressive energy, had people killing each other violently. He was feeding off it. The Republic sent in troops, and he took them over, too. It was a catastrophic mess. We evacuated who we could, we knocked out the Jedi he'd possessed that was key to it, we sent electric shocks out through the city to break his hold. We stopped it. Then we left. We dared to breathe. And he killed the planet. Drained the life and the Force from it to sustain himself."

[suitably_heroic]

"How far away were you?" Atton asked.

He wanted to feel some kind of shock about it.

But that part of his soul had been numbed for good by Malachor V.

[unusual_sith]

"In orbit." Lana took a moment to massage her temples. "You could see the line of destruction pass over the planet, going from green and blue and white and brown to...nothing but grey."

[suitably_heroic]

"Yeah," Atton said. "I was in orbit, too."

His voice had gone a little flat. He hadn't meant for it to.

[unusual_sith]

Lana sighed. Then she laughed tiredly. “Fuck. I’ve broken the only rule you set for me.”

[suitably_heroic]

"Hm?"

Sorry, Atton's mind was elsewhere, now.

[unusual_sith]

“No wars or empires.” Lana shook her head. “Sorry. This was supposed to be for music and fun.”

[suitably_heroic]

"It's fine," Atton said, subdued. Looking up. "I asked, right? And now we know we have even more in common than we already thought."

[unusual_sith]

Lana huffed. "Something I could do without sharing, but what can you do?" She sat back and rubbed her face. "Is there any good, cathartic music for this type of thing?"

[suitably_heroic]

Atton looked at her, and then let out a soft snort. "Yeah," he said.

He rose to his feet.

[unusual_sith]

Lana finished her lemonade and set down the glass. "Are we going to make your neighbours hate us?"

[suitably_heroic]

Atton managed a soft huff of a laugh.

"Back in the day, yeah," he said, fishing around the record collection. "I'd have grabbed Metallica. 'No Leaf Clover'. Loud, symphonic, dramatic metal about how the light at the end of the tunnel--" His voice twisted to song for a moment, "--is just a freight train comin' your way..."

He pulled an album out of the shelves.

"I've gotten into Nine Inch Nails this past year, though," he said. "Especially the more reflective stuff. Sometimes I like to tell myself this is character growth."

He put the record on the player.

When he dropped the music, what came out of the speakers was much more subdued.

[unusual_sith]

Lana closed her eyes and listened. She winced. "That's certainly something. Can we try the Metallica?"

Just wait until she discovered Linkin Park.

[suitably_heroic]

Atton snorted. "More into the screaming, huh?" he said. But he paused the record, took it off, rummaged around for S&M.

"That was the thing for me. Dane figured it out," he said, as he finally found and grabbed the record. "I was burying all this stuff in anger when it's just-- grief."

He put the record on. "But I guess there's nothing wrong with a little anger."

[unusual_sith]

"Anger is easier," Lana said. "I'm better at channeling anger. The grief is too nebulous and unfocused."

And yeah, the yelling was good.

[suitably_heroic]

"Everyone's better at channeling anger," Atton said. "Anger's proactive. It lets you do stuff."

He sat back down, the Nine Inch Nails record still in his hands.

[unusual_sith]

"Precisely," Lana agreed. "And I'm bad at not doing stuff."

Which was surely news to everyone.

[suitably_heroic]

"Which is why my therapist calls it a 'secondary emotion' that people resort to because they don't know how to deal with the actual feeling they're having," Atton said.

At least there was a sense of - albeit sarcastic - cheer returning to his previously flat tone?