onlyhearmusic | [the last voyages] ic inbox

[ The way her eyes widen a little says that that's not necessarily what she expected but after a moment, she nods. Okay. Sure. ]

But just in this place?

Why?

[His head tilted to one side slightly as he regarded her. Not that he had never been asked what mattered, or what he wanted, before. But he was curious about her angle.

Of course, the simplest answer was that all wardens got something out of being here. Unlike inmates.]

Nothin' changes here. Oh, there's tha chaos of it, always changin' tha rules and makin' trouble. But tha heart of it remains tha same. And none of it makes a difference.

[ She nods along with the first part of it; she's definitely gotten to feel the chaos and the changing of rules. In fact, she's definitely noticed all the weird little different rules that come along with a few of the passengers. All the same- ]

I don't understand how it's all the same. Or how none of it makes a difference.

Would you be willing to explain?

[This time it was an obvious sigh. He shook his head.]

No. [Then a light entered his eyes as he stared at her.] Not without recompense. A question fer a question.

[ That she can do. ]

Ask away. That's fair enough.

What is that song? That one playin' fer ya right now.

[ And that makes her pause. She needs a moment, dips into her Mind Place, and sees the radio is currently on. She's found it on before a few times since she got here, but as she finishes the blink- ]

It's by my grandpa and granduncle's band. Their music. I've been listening to a lot of it.

[ She leans in. ]

My question: do you hear that kind of thing for everyone?

[He tilted his head to one side again, opposite direction, but his gaze did not leave hers. It only grew more intense.]

Everyone has a song. Do they have one that invades my music when I ain't huntin' them? No, lass. That's different. That's new.

[ She considers that and lets her head tilt back, then forth, as she considers it. ]

I've used that music. It's part of why I've been listening to it. It helped me a few times, gotten me out of trouble. Let me do things I couldn't do otherwise.

[ Would he hear me if I tried to profile him? ]

Like in tha darkness.

[He noticed that affect. He remembered the feeling it gave him once it began to play over the speakers. It had been enhanced, dispersed the gloom mentally if not so much physically.

That meant it was magical or supernatural in some way, didn't it. He frowned slightly at the thought.]

[ That's a nod and a curious frown. ]

Does it bother you?

[He moved forward suddenly and then angled his way into walking a slow circle around Saga. His eyes gauged her up and down as he did so. A predator sizing up dangerous prey.]

I thought it interestin' when I first heard it. Like nothin' I've ever heard before. Beatin' against my own music. Changin' it's tune.

[He stopped walking.]

Never met anyone else with music like me own. But it's different, isn't it. It ain't natural.

[ In a few days time, they'll see that Saga's spirit takes the form of a deer, but it wouldn't be a surprise to her. Especially not now. He might be circling her like prey, but she has horns. She's not afraid. ]

Natural is subjective, isn't it?

I mean, it's natural for a bear to have fur and natural for a bird to have feathers. It's not natural for a human to have either of those things.

[That did not help. That just made what he usually thought of as a gift as some unnatural phenomenon.]

Oh, I've been told countless times I ain't natural. Ya don't have ta pretend otherwise fer me, lass.

[ And she raises an eyebrow, cool as a cucumber, smooth as silk. ]

Who's pretending?

Treating the human experience like a homogenized lump is the least natural thing there is.

Human experience, and the ways in which the human mind can function, can adapt, are incredibly variable.

[He remained quiet. Perhaps thoughtful, perhaps just to stare ominously at her.]

So is your music natural to you?

[ Gonna have to try harder to intimidate her, Collins. The stare isn't going to work. ]

You've said what other people have 'called' you. Not what you think.

[His eyes flicked away and he did look thoughtful this time.]

It's my gift. Doesn't make it natural. Doesn't make it...acceptable ta anyone else.

It doesn't make it not those things either.

[ Just... saying. ]

So... a gift. Something that was given to you, not something chosen. And so far, I haven't heard why it wouldn't be acceptable to someone.

Ah, there's tha catch. You want ta know why? Because I love how it makes me feel when I do my job. You know what my job is, don't you?

As the Butcher.

And I don't butcher pigs and cows, lass. Let's just skip right over that.

You're a serial killer. I knew that already.

[ People who work in food service don't call themselves 'the butcher'. It's also why she'd used the title when approaching him. She was trying to connect with him in the way that he chose to present himself. ]

Where did the gift come from?

Aye.

[Then she understood why it wasn't acceptable to anyone else now. Why everyone told him it was wrong. A fluke. An accident. Something wrong with his head.

He scowled like she had tainted something he called a gift with her question.]

How tha fuck should I know? I was born with it.

[Except everyone made him question that. What did he know. He didn't remember. It just never mattered before. It was what it was, and it was beautiful.]

[ That earns him an eyebrow raise that being a killer hadn't. ]

You call it a gift. Gifts, by their nature, are given and received.

I'm working with this on your terms. That's all.

[He just leveled a flat look at her.]

Ya never heard of natural talent bein' called a gift before?

I have.

[ And she could say what his anger says about the whole question, that it isn't that he used the word in a strange way so much as his reaction was telling. But that's inflammatory, and she's not here for that. ]

And how does it work, exactly? Is it the same song all the time?

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