[ Michael as a child and Michael as a woman makes a slow, easy circle about the Peter who is Spock and the Spock who is Spock in the dream, the memory. This is what is not told about psionic species: it is their capacity to recognize interlopers. It is their capacity to understand that, even in the throes of some gentler death, that those who tread within their recollections and their fabrications will be discovered. Cast out, should the drive be fierce.
But, Peter is not cast out. It is hard to say if it is the Gnosia solely that compromises his ability to, but you will find yourself looking at yourself. You will find Spock looking at you. Older, yes, but not nearly so as you yourself know yourself to be. As Peter, who too is you, knows him to be. ]
"No, you're not. Spock was never this kind of hesitant," [ the image of Michael says, head tipping in ways that resemble and don't the way Spock too tips his as he glances at her with the slightest narrowing of his gaze. ] "And he never said that to me, out here."
[ It would appear that he didn't. Off just to the side, something else is repeating. Spock, not as you, exits the household. He asks Michael to wait. Michael makes excuses, says she must leave because his family, his home is in danger. She talks about separatists, extremists.
And then, you feel the pulse of certainty. The certainty, as the corrected variant cuts her off as she attempts to march off again. Spock, little as he is, tilts his head back to meet her gaze and with defiance says: Our home. We'll fight them! Together.
The memory-dream stutters. Stills. The Spock that is older turns to face away from the scene, staring instead down the hillside that sprawls beyond the boundary of their home.
There is no undoing what is here. But, there is something that can be done. Michael seems to wait, observe. She looks at the you who is you and the you who is Spock. She swallows.
Awaits something, some answer. Her expression is guarded, tight. ]
no subject
But, Peter is not cast out. It is hard to say if it is the Gnosia solely that compromises his ability to, but you will find yourself looking at yourself. You will find Spock looking at you. Older, yes, but not nearly so as you yourself know yourself to be. As Peter, who too is you, knows him to be. ]
"No, you're not. Spock was never this kind of hesitant," [ the image of Michael says, head tipping in ways that resemble and don't the way Spock too tips his as he glances at her with the slightest narrowing of his gaze. ] "And he never said that to me, out here."
[ It would appear that he didn't. Off just to the side, something else is repeating. Spock, not as you, exits the household. He asks Michael to wait. Michael makes excuses, says she must leave because his family, his home is in danger. She talks about separatists, extremists.
And then, you feel the pulse of certainty. The certainty, as the corrected variant cuts her off as she attempts to march off again. Spock, little as he is, tilts his head back to meet her gaze and with defiance says: Our home. We'll fight them! Together.
The memory-dream stutters. Stills. The Spock that is older turns to face away from the scene, staring instead down the hillside that sprawls beyond the boundary of their home.
There is no undoing what is here. But, there is something that can be done. Michael seems to wait, observe. She looks at the you who is you and the you who is Spock. She swallows.
Awaits something, some answer. Her expression is guarded, tight. ]