http://ajrimmer-ssc.livejournal.com/ (
ajrimmer-ssc.livejournal.com) wrote in
capeandcowllogs2010-05-10 06:00 pm
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I can't believe what you said to me, last night we were alone.
WHO: Raven and Rimmer. Closed log.
WHERE: Lake Placid house, their bedroom.
WHEN: Backdated to the night of this post.
WARNINGS: Heavy theological content and philosophy. Discussion of souls. Discussion of humanity and demons. A couple in their pyjamas in bed. Yannow, the usual.
SUMMARY: Rimmer is none too keen on the fact that Raven seems to be of the opinion that she has no soul. Which, coming from him, is highly ironic all things considered. A discussion ensues.
FORMAT: Probably acres of Teal Deers.
His hologramatic pyjamas were in place, as he sat on the bed with his book, waiting for Raven to join him. He was reading a fascinating piece on Augustus, the emperor of Rome after Caesar.
Although his mind wasn't really on the military campaigns, defeating the Germans across the Rhine. Instead, his mind was firmly stuck in the rut from earlier tonight, when the subject of souls had popped up. And suddenly Arnold Rimmer was treading some seriously shaky theological ground, and he had no way to get to safety.
This was not a conversation that he wanted to have over their comms with dozens listening in. This was something that needed to happen in person...but she'd been avoiding him ever since. And now he had no idea how to broach this subject, or if he even should. But then, it occurred to him...they'd never really had the 'religion' discussion before. Well, aside from her telling him about Azar and Azarath. ...He just caught on to the fact that those were almost exactly the same word, way to go, Arn.
So he waited. And fidgeted. And fretted. And reread the same paragraph eighteen times as he hoped she would come upstairs tonight. She'd often said that she would never make him sleep on the couch...but that said nothing about her choosing that for herself instead. Hrm.
WHERE: Lake Placid house, their bedroom.
WHEN: Backdated to the night of this post.
WARNINGS: Heavy theological content and philosophy. Discussion of souls. Discussion of humanity and demons. A couple in their pyjamas in bed. Yannow, the usual.
SUMMARY: Rimmer is none too keen on the fact that Raven seems to be of the opinion that she has no soul. Which, coming from him, is highly ironic all things considered. A discussion ensues.
FORMAT: Probably acres of Teal Deers.
His hologramatic pyjamas were in place, as he sat on the bed with his book, waiting for Raven to join him. He was reading a fascinating piece on Augustus, the emperor of Rome after Caesar.
Although his mind wasn't really on the military campaigns, defeating the Germans across the Rhine. Instead, his mind was firmly stuck in the rut from earlier tonight, when the subject of souls had popped up. And suddenly Arnold Rimmer was treading some seriously shaky theological ground, and he had no way to get to safety.
This was not a conversation that he wanted to have over their comms with dozens listening in. This was something that needed to happen in person...but she'd been avoiding him ever since. And now he had no idea how to broach this subject, or if he even should. But then, it occurred to him...they'd never really had the 'religion' discussion before. Well, aside from her telling him about Azar and Azarath. ...He just caught on to the fact that those were almost exactly the same word, way to go, Arn.
So he waited. And fidgeted. And fretted. And reread the same paragraph eighteen times as he hoped she would come upstairs tonight. She'd often said that she would never make him sleep on the couch...but that said nothing about her choosing that for herself instead. Hrm.
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She tried just about anything to excuse why she didn't want to go to bed. Joseph, I'd love you watch you paint! David, we can watch a movie! Terrence, let's go out for icecream and no it doesn't matter that it's late! None of it worked, and she found herself marching up the stairs after being caught yawning. She couldn't get away with anything in this house, one of the downsides to being so close to them all.
She tossed Arnold a smile as she went to her dresser, and pulled out one of her longer nightgowns. She had various ones she wore... small silk and lace ones for obvious reasons, oversized nightshirts for long mornings with everyone downstairs, and then the long white gown that screamed 'I'm really in no mood for anything sexual, let me sleep'. The long gown went on tonight. Then she crawled up into bed and under the covers.
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But he dutifully tucked his bookmark back into his book, and yet did not put the book aside.
"Hallo," he said quietly.
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She really wasn't this cold, and she didn't feel she needed to be this cold, she just really didn't want to continue this discussion. This would ultimately undo a lot of the hard work she had pushed herself through, all that self-acceptance she had struggled for.
If he insisted the way she was born wasn't good enough, which was how she was personally hearing all of it, she would be out on that couch tonight. Simple as that.
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He wasn't thinking that it was her being not good enough. It worried him, though, that she so easily dismissed her humanity. She seemed to be focusing entirely on the negative aspects of her heritage, painting herself as a demon good for nothing more than endless wandering or eventual oblivion, and that upset him. He didn't want her beating herself up for who and what she was.
But since she was being so frigid, he'd return the favour with interest.
Arnold J. Rimmer, bastion of maturity and grace.
The tension in the bedroom ticked up by a few degrees, bringing the emotional temperature of the room to a frosty sort of late fall.
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... this too would pass, right? He'd get caught up in his book again, forget she was even there, and she'd fall asleep. Tomorrow they could have breakfast with the others, and everyone could just get over this.
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His shoulders started to slump a bit, in tempo with his face falling in disappointment as well. And he knew that she could feel every second of it, what she was doing to him. And, in his own petty way, he was glad. She was being stubborn. Another fight. Another bloody fight.
They were getting married too soon. That was the bottom line, and he knew it. They needed more time to work out their compromise points, their philosophies, their...their everythings. He loved her so much...and he kept on failing her, disappointing her, doing all these nasty things that made her roll her eyes and then go bring in another male to live under this roof. Probably so she'd have a buffet of choice when she finally did dump him.
The frigid upset started to slide in to Arctic depression, black and midnight blue and howling.
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Azar be damned...
Very slowly she allowed herself to roll over, but absolutely refused to look up at him. One, she knew she'd be able to see the pain on his features if she did... and two, she was already ashamed of how she had been acting.
Now facing him, she curled into his side. Maybe he'd take that as a silent apology? Maybe? If she was lucky?
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At the age of thirty-nine, Octavius was eligible to run for Praetor. According to flibble cloob blip beep tang marsh rammling...
The words turned to gibberish after he stared at them too hard, and he had to put the book down for a moment to rub at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. And he sighed, a deep, weary sigh of defeat.
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Her voice just barely broke over the harsh silence. His emotions were getting to be too much for her, and she had to wonder if he knew the level it affected her at. He could get his way with almost anything if he threw the proper emotions at her, the ones that would make her crack and fold to his will.
"More than anything."
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"I know you do," he whispered back. "I love you, too. Very, very much. So much that I..."
He brutally cut himself off, though, and prevented himself from finishing that sentence. Because the next words out of his mouth were going to be the opening salvo of that conversation she didn't want to have. He was a petty, immature smegger sometimes, but even he knew he had to shut his damn mouth tonight or there would be consequences.
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Very slowly she sat up, still against him, and tucked her chin onto his shoulder with a heavy sigh of her own.
"... it's okay, Arnold. Best to get it over with..."
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He automatically adjusted with her, slinking down a little lower so she wouldn't have to crane her neck to rest her chin on his shoulder. And he also rested the side of his face against hers, his temple against her forehead.
"You've made it very clear you don't want to talk about this. So we won't discuss it."
Even though he so desperately wanted to. It bothered him in some subtle and insidious ways, that she was being so adamant about this topic, that she had absolute, indelible proof of her soul, or lack thereof. Especially given his own status as a hologram. Her insistence that she wasn't like him in this area worried him, since they had so much else in common...stupid, but there it was.
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She was in no hurry to pull away, or even move closer. The way they were sitting now was just fine - being close without being all over one another. How was she going to face this without there being another argument? No matter how she tried to phrase it in her mind, it always seemed to lead to that point.
... oh well.
"... so it's okay."
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"What is this, emotional blackmail? Tonight you barely even look at me, don't say a word to me, and it's only when you can feel how depressed that makes me, that you reverse course so I don't give you a headache? Thanks, Raven. Thanks for nothing."
And then he realises how that sounds. Welp. She's got him pegged. Bitter resentment, table for one! He sighed again and shook his head.
"All right, fine. True. But you're the one who's been avoiding me all night. Why? Why aren't you willing to talk to me about this?"
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"Because... you seem to think what I believe is wrong... or... is a bad thing for me to believe." she grimaced a bit as the words came out.
"I'd like this to be something I can believe without people telling me I'm wrong."
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...Why was he the one to so loudly insist that he was less-than-human as a hologram? Because it was his own form of self-punishment, his figurative rosary beads to worry and gnaw on and count his guilts and his sins. In that one flash of insight, he got it, and the resentment melted into something considerably warmer. Something like...well, no, not pity, but fellow-feeling.
"Because everybody tells you you're always wrong about everything else, but everybody agrees that you have no soul, is that it?"
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"I've talked to other demons, I've spoken with people like Lucifer, who knows my father better than I even do. I'm honestly fine with not having a soul, I feel it's a bit overrated now, after having time to think about it. Not having one is a part of who I am, and I can't change that."
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He was firmly of the opinion that he'd lost his soul the moment he'd died, and all their discussions to the contrary wouldn't convince him otherwise. But...in spite of his disbelief, in spite of his contradictory denial and simultaneous loathing of God...he wanted rest.
A reward. Justice. Peace. Torment. Something. Not a psuedo-immortality, wandering the Earth accumulating memories until he went mad. He wanted to know it was all worth something in the end. He wanted to know that...that if it came down to it, and he and Raven were separated by the 'Porter, that he'd have something, somehow, someday to look forward to, as he took possession of a shiny new ethereal body in heaven and had her at his side.
Which seemed to require a soul, to his way of thinking, as the price of admission. So if she didn't have one, his eternal reward was kind of pointless.
And he had no way to articulate this to her. But damn it, he was going to try.
"...And what about me? What about how I'm made now? My lack is just as much a part of who I am, and yet you're trying to talk me out of it too. Why? And don't give me that crap about me beating myself up over my lack of humanity. I've seen you do the same thing. Dozens of times. You are always castigating yourself over your demonic heritage. But what about your human heritage?"
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But that got off point... a point that was already off point to begin with, but if Arnold wanted so badly to drag himself into this discussion, then so be it. In her mind, this had nothing to do with him, but he was making it about him. Again. One of his flaws that she loved him in spite of.
"I still believe you have a soul. I thoroughly believe everything I told you. Do I have a way of knowing for sure with you? No. However I do believe it's there."
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"I'm not trying to take anything away from you! I'm trying to...to give you something! I'm trying to show you that you do have a soul. Without one...well, you'd be what Starscream said. A drone. And you're definitely not one of those."
He turned to her fully, now, rubbing at his chin distractedly, his book entirely forgotten.
"But...wait, hang on, there was something Joey said. Something about how he couldn't possess things without a soul. So he can't jump into...a can of cola or something. And he's able to possess your body easily enough, you said."
It was, what he thought, his trump card, using Joey's powers to bring her about to his way of thinking.
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Now she had to face it head on.
"He... can possess intellectual beings." she tried to choose her words carefully, but only the initial set came out that way, as the emotional tear turned into a gap at just having to talk about this subject.
"... he was fine jumping into those with souls, all right? Just fine. What happened when he began to make that link with me? I've told you all about that. I've been nothing but disaster for him, Arnold."
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Right. That.
Smeg.
"That wasn't your fault. That was your father's fault." It was a lame excuse, and they both knew it, but he had to say it. Rimmer thrived on blaming parents for problems like this, even if that particular problem was a bit out of the scope of what his parents did to him.
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"I can blame my father for everything in the world, but at the end of the day I am still a demon. I'm purified to make my own choices, but that doesn't change what I am. All of this nonsense about being incomplete, like I'm not enough precisely the way I am? It's not helping what I've tried so hard to achieve."
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He could hear that anger in her tone, see it in her posture and on her face. And he knew that he'd finally crossed a line with her, a line that he didn't even know existed until this conversation happened. He'd dented her pride, the one aspect of her demonic heritage that she had accepted and embraced. And here he was, trying to tell her it wasn't any good.
"I just...wanted you to love yourself..." he said inanely, seemingly at odds with everything else said here tonight. Apparently he'd made some serious mental and emotional leaps about this topic, and had subconsciously equated having a soul with self-esteem.
Which was why he said he lacked it.
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She hadn't even realized how brutal and cold phrasing it like that was, it had just come out that way.
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"I know I stink at showing it," he said quietly. "I did warn you, Raven. I warned you ages ago. I told you I was a smeghead."
And with that, he pushed the covers aside and slid out of bed, pushing his feet into his slippers as he swung his legs over the side. He was up and across the room seconds after that.
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"... this is why I don't talk to any of you boys about these things. None of you have the ability to understand where I'm coming from on this issue." she wrapped her arms around one of his, pressing her forehead to his shoulder.
"I don't want to upset you all with these things."
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"I'm trying," he said quietly. "I really am. I thought I'd be the best person to understand this, but...I don't know. I just don't know. We're going to keep talking this in circles until we're throwing crockery at each other, so forget it. Just forget it."
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She gave yet another tug on his arm, and a half-step back.
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She was so beautiful. He could look into her eyes for hours, days, and never get tired of it. And it was in that moment he realised something important. Her own beliefs on the state of her soul were hers, and he shouldn't and couldn't change them...but at the same time, his beliefs were his own too. And he would always, always believe that she had a soul. More soul, certainly, than the monsters who raised him, the so-called friends who tormented him, the co-workers who loathed him. They all saw Arnold Rimmer and despised him; she saw him and loved him.
So she could believe what she liked, and he wouldn't ever argue this point again. He would just look into her eyes and know his own truth, like she knew hers.
He stepped closer again and cupped her face with one hand.
"I love you," he said quietly.
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"I love you too, Arnold."
She tucked a bit of hair behind her ear.
"... and I promise, I'm not putting myself down when I talk about all of this stuff. I really am okay with it, I really do see it as a positive now that I've had time to think on it."
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Then he just put an arm around her shoulders and cuddled her close, still sitting up in the bed.
"And I promise, I wasn't trying to tell you you weren't good enough as is. I mean it, you're wonderful as is. I'd say 'perfect' but you'd accuse me of putting you on a pedestal again."
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"... if you want to put me on a pedestal, go ahead. I'll try not to get too uncomfortable about the entire thing." she nuzzled in closer, taking a deep breath.
"I... I need to stop trying to change you. I think that's what I'm doing, anyway. I keep telling you to stop doing certain things and that's not right. I do love you precisely the way you are."
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"...And if I can manage to cheese you off by trying to make you feel better and assure you that I love you, perhaps you should be trying to change me. I'm completely hopeless sometimes. I can't think of a single other man in the entire multiverse who would get in a quarrel with his finacee because he was telling her she did have a soul. I'm just...too much of a giant jackarse, clearly."
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She went to lie back into the pillows, getting far more comfortable for a less... angry... version of the very same discussion. Who knows... maybe it'd get them somewhere?
"If I did have a soul, I would have gone to some sort of afterlife once I died. I wouldn't be here with you."
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He kissed the crown of her head and snuggled down further into the blankets.
"Darling, I'm not trying to change your thoughts on this. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice in such a short time. You believe that. You're glad of it. I'm fine with that, I really am. I just know that...well, we both died and came back. Maybe that means we've just got more soul than normal."
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"Just..." she sighed once more, wanting to bring up so many more points - how it made her immortal in a way, how the trade-off was her powers that had saved her and many others quite a few times...
"... okay."
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He snuggled her closer still, one foot rubbing against the satiny skin of her leg. It was silly, but he liked doing it. It just...felt nice.
"I really didn't mean to make you upset, dear. I'm sorry."
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"Are there any other topics like this we should get out in the open now, before it explodes?"
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He smirked down at her, and nudged her with his elbow.
"Although they'd probably throw me out the second they heard my accent. What do you think...should I pretend to be an American or what?"
He said that last in a really broad Texas drawl, which was actually quite good.
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"And you wouldn't have to worry, I'd be far too horrified you were going to one of those rallies. I wouldn't tell a soul, rather pretend I didn't know you for a few days after."
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"Don't worry, I've absolutely zero intention of hanging my flag with those fruitcakes. American politics reminds me too much of a television show. When somebody popular enters the room, the studio audience goes 'woooooo!' and then there's a new tax code suddenly."
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"It is a bit like that, I try to avoid it altogether if I can, and I'm from this country, technically."
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Kissing. Oh, kissing was nice too. As she turned her face away, he darted in and stole a kiss from the corner of her mouth. Hey, at least this time they hadn't made each other cry. That was an improvement, right?
"I love you, my little soulless wife to be."
Now he was just teasing her.
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"I love you too. ... I'm very sorry for how I was acting earlier, it was immature."
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See? Married couples could actually have fights and make up, smeghead. He knew he really needed to nip those 'TOO SOON' feelings in the bud soon, or he'd have a nasty surprise on his wedding day...
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"I forgive you too."
Was it really that easy to just... make up? Near-constant arguing with Gar for Azar-only-knew-how-long had made her wary to the entire argument process.
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"Thank you."
Then, there was a comfortable - well, all right, not 100% comfortable, call it 99% comfortable - silence, where they didn't need to talk about it anymore, but could just be. These were the moments when he loved her the most, truth be told. When he could just lay here quietly with her and feel accepted and connected and not so unutterably lonely anymore.