Some people were very careful around dangerous objects. Others were conscientious about not going into areas where they did not belong. Even more still followed the rules, and were careful about who or what they decided to engage with.
But then there were those types of people who saw the big red button, and couldn't help but reach out and push it - just to see what would happen. Those people were called many things: they were doers, they were passionate, or spontaneous. But there was one more word that didn't have as quite a positive connotation behind it, and that word summed up the reason for many of Ariana Moretti's adventures - and misadventures.
Impulsive.
So when such a button was laid down upon the ground, when Pandora's Box was unearthed and placed in front of her, Ariana was smart enough to know exactly what kind of a trap it could be. In most situations, a reasonable adult would have left well enough alone from such a potentially incendiary topic as politics, particularly with people like Dipshit-Max and Misty as her conversational partners.
Problem was, Ariana thought with only the slightest of chagrin, she wasn't yet a reasonable adult. Maybe once high school was over, she could roll with that term. But for now?
Fuck it. She couldn't help herself.
"Yeah, the world's really gone to shit, hasn't it? People getting shot all over the place, and then the country went and elected the equivalent of a baked potato to run the thing?" She smirked, and held her hands up in mock surprise. "Though I think a real baked potato might have better policies than a Canon. At least the potato actually contributes something of substance to the world."
Ariana took a second to let her words hang in the air, trying to gauge the reactions of the two in front of her. This was probably foolhardy, and if one - or both happened to be Canon supporters or even a bit more right-leaning, then perhaps the public library would be a battleground after all. But hey - Misty still had her book, and if it got thrown at her, she'd still technically have it back.
Fuck it, small price to pay.
"All Canon wants to do is live like his namesake, shooting thick metal balls at everyone and trying to sink ships. Too bad the ship he's sinking is America. Pretty brutal so far, am I right?"
She raised an eyebrow at the two and gave a conspiratorial grin. In the back of her mind, the part of her that exercised caution facepalmed and gave up, laying way to the remainder of Ariana Moretti's subconscious that could not, under any circumstances, resist poking the bear.
Poke.
Disc Rot
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Grand Moff Hissa
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Misty smiled.
Okay, so Ariana wanted to do this. Was her opening salvo of ignorance and insult calculated specifically to piss Misty off? Probably not, she thought. It was too clean, too casual, the sort of trash-talking a lot of the school engaged in without a second thought or any real analysis. It was a bonding activity for so many of her peers, like "How're you doing? And also fuck Canon." "Yeah, exactly, fuck that guy." Misty wasn't shy about her opinions, but the particular milieu that constituted them sometimes left others without a totally accurate idea of what they actually were, and Ariana must've been caught up in that or else just unaware of Misty's leanings because otherwise she would've made sure her free shot had some substance behind it instead of vague rumblings and mediocre puns.
"I think he gets a bad rap," Misty said. This was the part where Ariana would maybe change her mind and start trying to shove the lid back on the box, but it was too late now. Warnings had been ignored, so off came the gloves. "He's not perfect, but he's accomplished a ton already."
As she spoke, Misty perked up physically. It often felt like this when she was about to get into it, the same sort of feeling that came at match point in badminton. It was like an energy flowing through her, making the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck tingle. When she was little, maybe nine or ten, she realized that she could invoke a lesser form of this feeling by whispering to herself when she was alone, calling forth a chill that spread only through her but left her feeling like she could throw her hands wide and unleash a wave of ice to envelop and imprison all she could see. She'd honed this feeling over the years, didn't even need to whisper now, could just think her special words and call it, even if there were other people around, and nobody would ever know her secret and that was part of what made it so powerful. Her posture straightened and she tilted her head a little, her eyes squinting slightly.
The library was quiet, almost a ghost town compared to the chaotic urban center it'd seemed when Ariana was letting her poor self control carry her, and Misty tapped into the change of metaphorical (or even metaphysical) venue, watched a tumbleweed drift by between the stacks as in her mind's eye her hand hovered at her hip, ready to go for her long silver revolver. In reality, she kept the book pressed to her chest, not even consciously anymore. The bright lights of the fluorescent bulbs became noontime sun, the high stacks with their irregular lines of books turned to walls of ramshackle buildings with peeling siding made of faded, warped wood. The computers, the chairs, those were carts or wagons, and Max was the hired gun Misty didn't quite trust, an oddly clean-cut man watched from the corner of her eye just in case when he drew he wasn't pointing his weapon in the direction he was supposed to.
"McAllister took what, a year and a half to ram Oscare down our throats? And that was it. But look how much has changed in that time now."
Ariana probably had at least a vague idea, but almost certainly felt pretty differently about those changes. Misty guessed the girl was all about McAllister's signature healthcare clusterfuck, too, likely because she didn't really grasp the intricacies of its flaws and how easy it was to abuse and how much harm it could do to the very families it was alleged to help.
"Canon can't be both totally incapable and also reshaping the country," Misty said. "You have to grant at least that much."
Okay, so Ariana wanted to do this. Was her opening salvo of ignorance and insult calculated specifically to piss Misty off? Probably not, she thought. It was too clean, too casual, the sort of trash-talking a lot of the school engaged in without a second thought or any real analysis. It was a bonding activity for so many of her peers, like "How're you doing? And also fuck Canon." "Yeah, exactly, fuck that guy." Misty wasn't shy about her opinions, but the particular milieu that constituted them sometimes left others without a totally accurate idea of what they actually were, and Ariana must've been caught up in that or else just unaware of Misty's leanings because otherwise she would've made sure her free shot had some substance behind it instead of vague rumblings and mediocre puns.
"I think he gets a bad rap," Misty said. This was the part where Ariana would maybe change her mind and start trying to shove the lid back on the box, but it was too late now. Warnings had been ignored, so off came the gloves. "He's not perfect, but he's accomplished a ton already."
As she spoke, Misty perked up physically. It often felt like this when she was about to get into it, the same sort of feeling that came at match point in badminton. It was like an energy flowing through her, making the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck tingle. When she was little, maybe nine or ten, she realized that she could invoke a lesser form of this feeling by whispering to herself when she was alone, calling forth a chill that spread only through her but left her feeling like she could throw her hands wide and unleash a wave of ice to envelop and imprison all she could see. She'd honed this feeling over the years, didn't even need to whisper now, could just think her special words and call it, even if there were other people around, and nobody would ever know her secret and that was part of what made it so powerful. Her posture straightened and she tilted her head a little, her eyes squinting slightly.
The library was quiet, almost a ghost town compared to the chaotic urban center it'd seemed when Ariana was letting her poor self control carry her, and Misty tapped into the change of metaphorical (or even metaphysical) venue, watched a tumbleweed drift by between the stacks as in her mind's eye her hand hovered at her hip, ready to go for her long silver revolver. In reality, she kept the book pressed to her chest, not even consciously anymore. The bright lights of the fluorescent bulbs became noontime sun, the high stacks with their irregular lines of books turned to walls of ramshackle buildings with peeling siding made of faded, warped wood. The computers, the chairs, those were carts or wagons, and Max was the hired gun Misty didn't quite trust, an oddly clean-cut man watched from the corner of her eye just in case when he drew he wasn't pointing his weapon in the direction he was supposed to.
"McAllister took what, a year and a half to ram Oscare down our throats? And that was it. But look how much has changed in that time now."
Ariana probably had at least a vague idea, but almost certainly felt pretty differently about those changes. Misty guessed the girl was all about McAllister's signature healthcare clusterfuck, too, likely because she didn't really grasp the intricacies of its flaws and how easy it was to abuse and how much harm it could do to the very families it was alleged to help.
"Canon can't be both totally incapable and also reshaping the country," Misty said. "You have to grant at least that much."
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MethodicalSlacker
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As a matter of fact, they did not.
"He hasn't done what he was elected to do, Misty. Capability notwithstanding, he's morally bankrupt. You can only go far with a comparison to McAllister before you start comparing the two's demeanor, and while the left is very self-righteous—"
Was he saying something that he would later regret?
Most likely.
"—and willing to cater to the basic lack of true, legitimate literacy that voting public has on a lot of public issues—"
But he was saying what he believed in.
Maybe that was what he was missing out on, all this time. The rush that came from speaking with conviction. Many times, he had posed an argument with the sole purpose of posing that argument. Representing a viewpoint that others might not consider was a good way to get under one's skin, to poke holes in something he disagreed with. He had done it on the debate team out of necessity, and with Abel on the baseball team for his own personal enjoyment.
But he wasn't invested in it.
"—the fact still stands that Canon has sunk to a new low with regards to cordiality and the way one ought to conduct themselves, as the leader of one of the most powerful nations in the world."
Maybe it wasn't the most unique, interesting, or compelling argument in the world, and maybe this would be the start of a new divide between Misty and himself. But it represented his ideals.
He hadn't touched his essay in a few minutes. The tab remained open on his screen. Had he been looking at it, he would have seen Liberty disappear from the document, closing out on her end of the connection to deal with other matters.
"He hasn't done what he was elected to do, Misty. Capability notwithstanding, he's morally bankrupt. You can only go far with a comparison to McAllister before you start comparing the two's demeanor, and while the left is very self-righteous—"
Was he saying something that he would later regret?
Most likely.
"—and willing to cater to the basic lack of true, legitimate literacy that voting public has on a lot of public issues—"
But he was saying what he believed in.
Maybe that was what he was missing out on, all this time. The rush that came from speaking with conviction. Many times, he had posed an argument with the sole purpose of posing that argument. Representing a viewpoint that others might not consider was a good way to get under one's skin, to poke holes in something he disagreed with. He had done it on the debate team out of necessity, and with Abel on the baseball team for his own personal enjoyment.
But he wasn't invested in it.
"—the fact still stands that Canon has sunk to a new low with regards to cordiality and the way one ought to conduct themselves, as the leader of one of the most powerful nations in the world."
Maybe it wasn't the most unique, interesting, or compelling argument in the world, and maybe this would be the start of a new divide between Misty and himself. But it represented his ideals.
He hadn't touched his essay in a few minutes. The tab remained open on his screen. Had he been looking at it, he would have seen Liberty disappear from the document, closing out on her end of the connection to deal with other matters.
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- There was no word that properly described Ariana Moretti's emotional state right now that fit more than the one used to describe the look on her face.
She was incredulous.
It wasn't that she'd figured Misty to be on her side with her views upon Canon; rather the opposite. She'd had an inkling based upon the way that she'd come in and uttered the words 'societal change' that she was angling - maybe even hoping for someone to take the bait and lure her into a conversation about politics. As was now apparent (and even obvious to her at the time), Ariana had taken the bait and flipped open Pandora's Box with a zeal that she could barely contain. Perhaps it had been her still-there frustration with how much of a dickhead Max had been that she wanted to engage in a fiery discourse with someone, but she was still amazed at the certainty with which she made her points about Canon. Accomplished a ton? Come on.
But it wasn't Misty's reaction that had truly taken Ariana out at the knees - it was Max's. She'd anticipated a vitriolic diatribe regarding the evils of left-wing politics on the efficiency of their society, but instead, he'd in fact taken her side!? Granted, his issue seemed to be with how Canon was conducting himself, and hell, if Max the fuck-ass was going on about how their president didn't know basic standards of decorum, Ariana wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
She still was incredulous that he wasn't going after her points, though.
Pulling herself together, she stepped towards Misty and put her hands up in mock surprise, palms up as though to suggest she wasn't sure what to say.
"Just because you affect change doesn't mean that you're good what you're doing. The Oscare bill took a long time to fall into place, but can you really say that it damaged more than it helped? That joker has," she took a breath, choosing her next word carefully, "absolutely fucked so many people in such a short time that it feels like he's going for the record."
Taking another glance at Max, her unusual ally in this discussion, she looked back at Misty, still blinking in half-surprise.
"You don't need to be competent - or even good, for that matter, to be able to impact a large percentage of people. You know who else reshaped their cities, their countries, the world?"
This was the apex of her point, and maybe a bit of an outrageous comparison, but Ariana knew that she'd probably hit on the shock factor and hopefully kick the soapbox of self-righteousness out from underneath Misty.
"Benito Mussolini reshaped his country. Adolf Hitler tried to reshape Europe in his image. We all know how wonderfully that turned out. Victor Danya reshaped how we think about safety, and that's somehow still happening." She paused. "All I'm saying is that you can't just give people blind latitude in the name of reshaping their world. Some people just want to watch the world burn, and I can't help but think that Canon is one of those. He's despicable."
She was incredulous.
It wasn't that she'd figured Misty to be on her side with her views upon Canon; rather the opposite. She'd had an inkling based upon the way that she'd come in and uttered the words 'societal change' that she was angling - maybe even hoping for someone to take the bait and lure her into a conversation about politics. As was now apparent (and even obvious to her at the time), Ariana had taken the bait and flipped open Pandora's Box with a zeal that she could barely contain. Perhaps it had been her still-there frustration with how much of a dickhead Max had been that she wanted to engage in a fiery discourse with someone, but she was still amazed at the certainty with which she made her points about Canon. Accomplished a ton? Come on.
But it wasn't Misty's reaction that had truly taken Ariana out at the knees - it was Max's. She'd anticipated a vitriolic diatribe regarding the evils of left-wing politics on the efficiency of their society, but instead, he'd in fact taken her side!? Granted, his issue seemed to be with how Canon was conducting himself, and hell, if Max the fuck-ass was going on about how their president didn't know basic standards of decorum, Ariana wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
She still was incredulous that he wasn't going after her points, though.
Pulling herself together, she stepped towards Misty and put her hands up in mock surprise, palms up as though to suggest she wasn't sure what to say.
"Just because you affect change doesn't mean that you're good what you're doing. The Oscare bill took a long time to fall into place, but can you really say that it damaged more than it helped? That joker has," she took a breath, choosing her next word carefully, "absolutely fucked so many people in such a short time that it feels like he's going for the record."
Taking another glance at Max, her unusual ally in this discussion, she looked back at Misty, still blinking in half-surprise.
"You don't need to be competent - or even good, for that matter, to be able to impact a large percentage of people. You know who else reshaped their cities, their countries, the world?"
This was the apex of her point, and maybe a bit of an outrageous comparison, but Ariana knew that she'd probably hit on the shock factor and hopefully kick the soapbox of self-righteousness out from underneath Misty.
"Benito Mussolini reshaped his country. Adolf Hitler tried to reshape Europe in his image. We all know how wonderfully that turned out. Victor Danya reshaped how we think about safety, and that's somehow still happening." She paused. "All I'm saying is that you can't just give people blind latitude in the name of reshaping their world. Some people just want to watch the world burn, and I can't help but think that Canon is one of those. He's despicable."
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Grand Moff Hissa
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There it was, the shot from the side. Misty had been on guard, and so she wasn't hurt by it, wasn't upset, wasn't even really surprised. Call it mildly perturbed. It was also something she could deal with, she thought, because she still felt powerful and icy and she could deal with anything.
It helped that Max wasn't exactly wrong. Like, okay, Canon could be an asshole. That was true, no bones about it. The thing was, he was what he was for a reason and beyond that there were a lot of other assholes out there who weren't called on it. He came by his offensiveness honestly. As Misty saw things, his bluntness and candor really were part of the charm; he was reshaping politics into something the masses could understand, something that wouldn't be some big boring alien force taking their money for nebulous reasons and offering little benefit in return. And maybe, in time, Max could be brought around to that way of thinking, but in the here and now Misty didn't like being the odd one out and that meant it was time to reframe the conversation.
"He's not perfect, I'll give you that," she said with a nod to Max. "Do I wish he was polished and didn't go off half-cocked? Sure. But I don't think it's fair to act like he's the only world leader out there with problematic aspects—I mean, France elected the guy who married his high school teacher. She's old enough to be his mother."
Max got the side of the conversation that was keyed to the adults in the room, the ones capable of reasoned and civil disagreement. But Max wasn't the only one there, and now the wind whistled past and Misty drew and shot from the hip as she turned to Ariana.
"And I think comparing the president to dictators and terrorists with the blood of thousands on their hands is pretty offensive to the memories of all those victims," she said. "I get that you don't like his policies but I can say Oscare punishes the people who need help most by fining them for not spending money they don't have on insurance without saying he's forcing everyone into a collectivist five-year-plan death march like Stalin."
See, yeah, Misty really hated it when people on the more liberal side of things simultaneous cried out about unfairness in tone and morals and then turned around and this sort of thing, threw out the Hitler bomb as an opening move. Nothing productive could exist after that, no insight or real exchange of ideas. That was okay, though. It meant Misty was free to engage as she pleased and trip her opponent in the hypocrisy of codes she didn't hold to herself.
It helped that Max wasn't exactly wrong. Like, okay, Canon could be an asshole. That was true, no bones about it. The thing was, he was what he was for a reason and beyond that there were a lot of other assholes out there who weren't called on it. He came by his offensiveness honestly. As Misty saw things, his bluntness and candor really were part of the charm; he was reshaping politics into something the masses could understand, something that wouldn't be some big boring alien force taking their money for nebulous reasons and offering little benefit in return. And maybe, in time, Max could be brought around to that way of thinking, but in the here and now Misty didn't like being the odd one out and that meant it was time to reframe the conversation.
"He's not perfect, I'll give you that," she said with a nod to Max. "Do I wish he was polished and didn't go off half-cocked? Sure. But I don't think it's fair to act like he's the only world leader out there with problematic aspects—I mean, France elected the guy who married his high school teacher. She's old enough to be his mother."
Max got the side of the conversation that was keyed to the adults in the room, the ones capable of reasoned and civil disagreement. But Max wasn't the only one there, and now the wind whistled past and Misty drew and shot from the hip as she turned to Ariana.
"And I think comparing the president to dictators and terrorists with the blood of thousands on their hands is pretty offensive to the memories of all those victims," she said. "I get that you don't like his policies but I can say Oscare punishes the people who need help most by fining them for not spending money they don't have on insurance without saying he's forcing everyone into a collectivist five-year-plan death march like Stalin."
See, yeah, Misty really hated it when people on the more liberal side of things simultaneous cried out about unfairness in tone and morals and then turned around and this sort of thing, threw out the Hitler bomb as an opening move. Nothing productive could exist after that, no insight or real exchange of ideas. That was okay, though. It meant Misty was free to engage as she pleased and trip her opponent in the hypocrisy of codes she didn't hold to herself.
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MethodicalSlacker
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| "Nobody said he was the only world leader with problematic aspects," Max retorted, "but bringing up Macron as a similarly disparaging way is a false equivalency. Though neither leader is, really, any good, Canon is by far the more destructive of the two." Not as destructive as a fascist dictator, however. Misty had clearly won the point there. Max didn't often find himself playing the fence sitter, the mock arbiter of what was and was not agreeable by proxy, but he found that the judgmental role suited him, at least for this topic of conversation. If something was too outrageous, he objected. It was that simple. No affiliation to either party required, nor did he need to bring up any of the fascist literature he had in his desk drawer at home. Though Max knew that he was only studying texts such as those for research purposes, he knew that both Misty and Ariana would jump on him for it. It may be favorable to sway slightly to one side, however. He realized that there was a chance that Ariana, the less experienced, less reasonable of the two combatants, might need some additional convincing that he was, at least at the moment, not currently poised to prey on her feeble argument, weak as it may be. If it was just the two of them, Ariana and Max, alone, and it hadn't yet come to physical violence, then he would be positively laying into her currently for her quite amateurish disposition. But, for now, they would remain allied. They would share an unlikely peace. "And while the comparison between Adolf Hitler and President Canon is currently, well, untenable," he added in that vein, "there is reasonable evidence to suggest that in the not so distant future, it may become less so." Max reclined again in his seat, but not before he glanced around to see if anyone was walking by. ... There was, in fact, somebody. Somebody addressing the group, who had stopped herself mid-sentence when her eyes wandered over to glance at his confused countenance, near parallel to the ground. Somebody that he locked eyes with. Somebody that he recognized. And thus the question: What was she doing here? |
The difference between Starbucks and the library was, on the surface, night and day. [Bert Wren continued from Generation Loss] The walk over was nice, too. Good sunny day outside, overall bitterness inside. Bitter just like the coffee she had finished before coming over. Bert felt like a walking mess of stress and bad vibes, and leaving the Starbucks hadn't really helped in that department. She found herself worrying about what was going on over there—on if Siyanda was okay, if Dean intervened or not, whether or not Desiree had gotten the rescue that she had wanted. Whatever. They'd all be fine. She trusted her friends to not kill each other over coffee. Well, she trusted Siyanda and Desiree. Dean was a bit of a wild card on that one. Just a little bit suspect. Bert noticed another group of friends sitting in the computer area, and silently felt both relieved and disappointed. Relieved, because she really didn't like working alone. Maybe one of the people in the group was also in her class, and she could pull him or her or they or zir or else-wise aside and work together with him or her or they or zir or else-wise. Disappointed, because if they were the right kind of people, then she'd never get any work done, and Max would get pissed off at her. Either way, it was worth going over to check out the situation. Cautiously, she approached. The group looked like it consisted of two girls and a guy. She could tell the identities of the two girls, Misty and Ariana, fiercely discussing something with the third party. From where she was approaching, she couldn't quite see his face, but she could make out some tufts of blond hair. Probably Felix Rees, or a Lucas. Ariana wasn't quite at library volume, so Bert figured that it would be okay to address the group in a somewhat louder than appropriate for the library tone. "Hey guys!" Bert said as she strolled over, "What'cha talking ab—" The boy with the blond hair leaned back (way too far) in his chair, and Bert locked eyes with him. ... Oh shit. What was he doing here? |
Oh, for fuck's sakes, Max. For as much as she'd initially felt nothing but seething hot rage at the audacity of his chair placement when this lovely confrontation had started, Ariana couldn't help but roll her eyes as he threw about about forty-five dollars in words while trying to make his point. Which granted, she was appreciative for, as he still shockingly seemed to be trying to support her side of the discussion, but... ugh. If there was one thing she had a difficult time looking past - well, there was probably a lot more than just one thing, but the one particular thing that got under her grill more than most was when someone had a pretentious air to them. Nonetheless, they were on the same side for now, against Misty.
Oh, Misty...
Ariana held her tongue and stopped herself short of hurling all kinds of angry taunts back at her. Instead, she took a deep breath, and tried her damndest to respond to the audacious, holier-than-thou demeanour that she'd received back from the other girl.
"Yeah, it's really awful to imagine our country having a health-care system that's not only available to the highest bidders. Real shitty feeling, that one," she paused, once more trying to restrain herself from reaching out and slapping the girl. As good as it would make her feel, it wouldn't solve anything.
"And as far as offending the victims? They aren't going to offended by anything. They're victims; they're dead. Their families are going to suffer, no matter what I compare the monsters who made them into victims do. That's the point, by the way, that I think you missed altogether. Those men I mentioned are victimizers, and Canon being in charge of an entire country allows him the power to do the same. To victimize those who are less fortunate. To remove vital services that people - probably a lot of people that you go to school with, need?"
She looked Misty up and down with disgust.
"How could you support someone like that? If OsCare is the first of his cuts, where do you draw the line? What's next? How long until he decides that women or minorities aren't allowed to vote?" She felt a vein twitch in her neck, but she kept her voice mostly even, volume notwithstanding. "He already wants to build his goddamn wall. How is that not the most racist thing you've ever heard? I-"
The new arrival put Ariana off-kilter for a moment. The girl's name didn't immediately come to mind, but as such a small, lithe figure, Ari wasn't surprised that someone like that would slip by her. No matter. Her focus was primarily upon Misty Browder, a girl whose social standing had, in Ariana's eyes, slipped mightily within the last ten minutes.
But hey, she hadn't slapped her yet. Ross would have been proud.
Oh, Misty...
Ariana held her tongue and stopped herself short of hurling all kinds of angry taunts back at her. Instead, she took a deep breath, and tried her damndest to respond to the audacious, holier-than-thou demeanour that she'd received back from the other girl.
"Yeah, it's really awful to imagine our country having a health-care system that's not only available to the highest bidders. Real shitty feeling, that one," she paused, once more trying to restrain herself from reaching out and slapping the girl. As good as it would make her feel, it wouldn't solve anything.
"And as far as offending the victims? They aren't going to offended by anything. They're victims; they're dead. Their families are going to suffer, no matter what I compare the monsters who made them into victims do. That's the point, by the way, that I think you missed altogether. Those men I mentioned are victimizers, and Canon being in charge of an entire country allows him the power to do the same. To victimize those who are less fortunate. To remove vital services that people - probably a lot of people that you go to school with, need?"
She looked Misty up and down with disgust.
"How could you support someone like that? If OsCare is the first of his cuts, where do you draw the line? What's next? How long until he decides that women or minorities aren't allowed to vote?" She felt a vein twitch in her neck, but she kept her voice mostly even, volume notwithstanding. "He already wants to build his goddamn wall. How is that not the most racist thing you've ever heard? I-"
The new arrival put Ariana off-kilter for a moment. The girl's name didn't immediately come to mind, but as such a small, lithe figure, Ari wasn't surprised that someone like that would slip by her. No matter. Her focus was primarily upon Misty Browder, a girl whose social standing had, in Ariana's eyes, slipped mightily within the last ten minutes.
But hey, she hadn't slapped her yet. Ross would have been proud.
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Grand Moff Hissa
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"I mean," Misty said, following up on Ariana's argument first because it was easier to unpack quickly than Max's, "personally I just think it's pretty shitty to say that it doesn't matter what you say about Hitler's victims because they're dead."
This was familiar ground. Misty's breathing was calm and clear, her tone light and steady, the ripples of chill passing through her not even really needed anymore. By now, she had figured out that there wasn't a chance of getting Ariana to even really listen to what she was saying so the name of the game became maneuvering the girl into arguing the dumbest stuff possible just because it went against Misty's words. She was pretty proud that she'd pivoted from defending Canon to standing up for the victims of the Holocaust; that was pretty smooth if she did say so and also preemptively took the legs out from under certain other arguments that tended to crop up when Canon and Jews were both present in the discussion. The only trick left was to maintain enough of a veneer of good faith to avoid totally alienating Max. That did call for a little policy debate.
"And as far as OsCare goes, it punishes people for choosing not to be insured. That's a major overstep that hurts the poor. I guess we could do it like Canada if you're okay waiting two months to see the doctor for your broken foot because everyone goes to the hospital every time they get a runny nose so there's an endless line. And as far as voting rights Canon couldn't do anything about that if he wanted to—which he doesn't—because that's a Constitutional amendment so you need like three quarters of the States to independently ratify what two thirds of Congress proposes, which means fifteen democrats jumping ship in the Senate alone."
This was all stuff that Misty was pretty sure they'd been taught in class at least twice, and understanding of which really should've been a prerequisite to engage in this sort of discussion but hey, whoever was less hyperbolic tended to come off as more reasonable so she'd take the freebie of the slippery-slope straw man Ariana was falling back on.
Her focus had been so keenly tuned to the discussion that it took a moment to parse the evolution of circumstances. As Misty rebutted those parts of Ariana's argument she found particularly open to dissection and didn't deign to touch the rest, a newcomer had arrived, a tiny girl who seemed to be commanding a lot of Max's attention. That was to Misty's advantage, probably; she thought she'd have a way easier time talking all this stuff through with Max without the peanut gallery, and if he was taken out of the equation for a little she could maybe verbally dispatch the duelist opposite her in peace.
But since she was playing nice, she gave the girl (who probably wasn't paying attention anyways, what with how she'd ran smack into her own sentence) a nod and a quick, "Hey."
This was familiar ground. Misty's breathing was calm and clear, her tone light and steady, the ripples of chill passing through her not even really needed anymore. By now, she had figured out that there wasn't a chance of getting Ariana to even really listen to what she was saying so the name of the game became maneuvering the girl into arguing the dumbest stuff possible just because it went against Misty's words. She was pretty proud that she'd pivoted from defending Canon to standing up for the victims of the Holocaust; that was pretty smooth if she did say so and also preemptively took the legs out from under certain other arguments that tended to crop up when Canon and Jews were both present in the discussion. The only trick left was to maintain enough of a veneer of good faith to avoid totally alienating Max. That did call for a little policy debate.
"And as far as OsCare goes, it punishes people for choosing not to be insured. That's a major overstep that hurts the poor. I guess we could do it like Canada if you're okay waiting two months to see the doctor for your broken foot because everyone goes to the hospital every time they get a runny nose so there's an endless line. And as far as voting rights Canon couldn't do anything about that if he wanted to—which he doesn't—because that's a Constitutional amendment so you need like three quarters of the States to independently ratify what two thirds of Congress proposes, which means fifteen democrats jumping ship in the Senate alone."
This was all stuff that Misty was pretty sure they'd been taught in class at least twice, and understanding of which really should've been a prerequisite to engage in this sort of discussion but hey, whoever was less hyperbolic tended to come off as more reasonable so she'd take the freebie of the slippery-slope straw man Ariana was falling back on.
Her focus had been so keenly tuned to the discussion that it took a moment to parse the evolution of circumstances. As Misty rebutted those parts of Ariana's argument she found particularly open to dissection and didn't deign to touch the rest, a newcomer had arrived, a tiny girl who seemed to be commanding a lot of Max's attention. That was to Misty's advantage, probably; she thought she'd have a way easier time talking all this stuff through with Max without the peanut gallery, and if he was taken out of the equation for a little she could maybe verbally dispatch the duelist opposite her in peace.
But since she was playing nice, she gave the girl (who probably wasn't paying attention anyways, what with how she'd ran smack into her own sentence) a nod and a quick, "Hey."
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MethodicalSlacker
- Posts: 1284
- Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 2:18 am
- Location: The Black Lodge
- Contact:
|
Liberty. Innocent Liberty. Her name was metaphorical on a level that she didn't understand. Of course she was not technically innocent, but she was certainly free. Innocent in the sense that she did nothing out of true malice. On the surface she might be bitter, but underneath, there was no way that she was sincere in any malevolent action. Nary a time could he remember where Bert had decided to exercise her freedom, her god-given right to self-determination, to harm anyone other than herself by engaging in vice. He knew her. Drugs, alcohol, raucous parties. "Ah," he said, "Have you come to work on our essay?" And then she fired back with an insult of her own. Not to imply that Max meant anything by his comment, necessarily, but merely that she had more than likely taken it as a personal slight. In the wake of such subjective judgement it was clear that her action could be forgiven if she repented. His thoughts were clouded. Max meant not repenting in the confessional sense, but the personal, apologetic sense. He wanted a quick 'Sorry' or whatever sufficed nowadays. Wanted it. Was hungry for it. No. Dial it back. Max stopped smiling. He hadn't noticed that he had ever started. Started smiling. "I agree with Misty on that point," he resumed, turning back to the rest of the group, "on the grounds of the dead being important, but otherwise I think I'll have to concede that we won't agree on Canon. While rolling back some of the more unnecessary parts of coverage would save the state money, it is important that most get access to some basic care free of cost. It's all in the name of public health. Additionally-" He stopped short to see Bert pick up and leave. Leave? Was she leaving? Legitimately? She comes all the way here only to leave? This was disappointing on a variety of levels. This was an affront to him. Gone was his earlier thought of her doing no intentional harm. He ascribed not enough power to her, and he exercised not enough power over her. He wanted her to stay put and listen. He wanted them to work on this together. None of his wants could keep her from going out the door, though. He turned his eyes downcast. What was he doing? This was not the proper way to be. Whatever he was talking about was currently irrelevant. A distraction from the original discussion, a problem that he had caused. All of the fault was his, and he didn't want to admit it. Things started to swirl. Playing devil's advocate was not fulfilling—not just that, not even that—it wasn't fun. "Sorry," he said, logging out of his computer and standing upright, "I think I need to go. It was nice talking with both of you." He shook his head when he saw his reflection in the blank computer screen. He looked, to himself, visibly distraught. Max wasn't even sure about what, or why. That had been enough, for him. He got up and left. It was hard, since he had been sitting down for so long. He decided not to follow her. [Max Rudolph continued elsewhere.] |
Whatever this group was talking about was too important to pause to welcome Bert. She got a stare and a short 'Hey' from the non-horrible participants. Which would be absolutely perfectly totally fine in literally any other circumstance. Politics? Bert was game. She didn't know her left from her right but she figured that whatever was spoken the most eloquently was the right thing to back, and it sounded like there was probably some eloquence on display here, if she knew how to look for it. Probably. Max put a wrench in everything, as per usual. His presence meant that any kind of discussion would be focused on the essay. Bert didn't want to put up with that, and she wouldn't. However, before she had a chance to speak, he did. His quip stung and stunk of malice, and she didn't want to let him have the last word. "Yeah, and you obviously haven't been." He just grinned at her. Bert's skin crawled. She couldn't stay here, but she didn't know how to leave. All she could do for the time being was watch as Max turned two-faced, playing both sides. He was a fence-sitter today, not something he had ever been in her own presence before. It was startling to watch the mental gymnastics on display. Smiling creepily one moment, snarling at his conversational opponents the next. "Forget this." And that was enough for her. She turned and left. It was easy, since she never put down her stuff in the first place. [Bert Wren continued elsewhere]. |
Come on - was this really the tone that Misty was going to take with her now? Ariana was unable to hold back the look of disdain that had quickly made its way upon her face during Misty's very obnoxious political diatribe. Congratulations, you paid attention during a few political science courses, good for you. Unfortunately for Ari, her mind tended to wander during a lot of those particular discussions in class. Sometimes, it was simply better to just let the real political keeners battle it out. God knew there were enough of those on both the right and left side of the political spectrum to keep a class discussion motoring on for hours without any of her opinion.
Naturally, she didn't enjoy being lectured - particularly by someone who wanted to regurgitate the backwards rhetoric shared by the current Commander-in-Chief of their country. She'd rather take a can(n)on to the face.
She opened her mouth to retort, but Misty's dismissal of her in favour of the new girl sent her blood pressure through the roof once more. She looked back at Max for at least a measure of support - strange circumstances certainly made for strange bedfellows, but to her incredulity, Max was packing up and heading off?!
Oh, hell no. Was he really admitting defeat to this obnoxious bitch? It had been nice talking to th- what the hell? Ari was stunned.
The new girl and Max seemed to have some sort of weird relationship or history or something, Ari didn't know which and really didn't care. What was important was that the both of them scattered the library as fast as their legs could carry them, leaving Ariana standing with a smirking Misty.
Ari grimaced, and looked the girl in front of her up and down slowly, much like a predator surveying its prey. Every impulse that she had within her was saying that popular opinion would probably have understood if she gave her one good slap. Just one. Sure, maybe she'd be banned from the public library, but she deserved it.
But she held back. Taking a deep breath, she let her face fall into a neutral expression, and looked down at the floor, shutting her eyes and allowing a moment for her rage to subside. It had been just yesterday that she'd finally relented and agreed to let her new boyfriend drag her to prom - an event that she'd been as happy blowing off and just going to the after-parties as any. But if she leapt across the room and slapped the ever-loving hell out of Misty... she'd probably get arrested. Maybe suspended; prom would be a pipe dream at that point.
And no prom for her would mean a solo appearance for Ross, and Ariana... she couldn't bear to do that to him. Her new boyfriend was a pretty expressive guy, and had been needling her about it for a few weeks, which had actually gotten her excited for it. Plus, in the grand scheme of things, Ariana imagined that someone else in the future would probably do a far better job of slapping the hell out of Misty Browder than she would right now. She'd put money on Misty having some kind of an ass-whipping in her future.
Still quietly seething but having managed to calm herself down, Ariana looked back up at Misty with a quiet little smile on her face. The other girl still held the book that she'd come to the library in search of, but at this point, she knew that an exit was the single best thing she could do.
So an exit, she made.
"Well, Misty," her tone was polite and measured, but she basically spat the girl's name back at her, "I don't share his sentiments. This has been delightfully miserable on all counts."
Her eyes glanced once more at the book. Fuck it, she'd buy the damned thing.
"I mean, there's nothing more that I like than coming to the public library to get knocked over by an asshole on a chair and lectured about the sorry state of our country," she paused and threw extra syrup on top for her next words, "by a self-righteous, prejudicial little bitch. I hope that someday, you find yourself with gangrene in your legs and no money to pay for the operation to save them, thanks to your precious private health care system."
Ariana smiled the most insincere smile that she could muster.
"Have an absolutely wonderful rest of your day, you fear-mongering, right-winged cunt."
Having sufficiently lashed out with no more room on her tether to keep her from striking the girl, she nodded, and whirled around in the other direction. Her anger drove her, causing her legs to keep pumping until she had left Misty, the library, and all of the books behind. She made it three blocks before she finally paused to take a breath and allowed herself to calm down. While ordinarily she hated to lose control, she couldn't help but be pleased to herself. Right-wing garbage like that was a bit of a trigger, and yet... she hadn't hit her.
That was certainly a step in the right direction.
((Ariana Moretti is flying away and hitting the ground with a SPLAT!))
Naturally, she didn't enjoy being lectured - particularly by someone who wanted to regurgitate the backwards rhetoric shared by the current Commander-in-Chief of their country. She'd rather take a can(n)on to the face.
She opened her mouth to retort, but Misty's dismissal of her in favour of the new girl sent her blood pressure through the roof once more. She looked back at Max for at least a measure of support - strange circumstances certainly made for strange bedfellows, but to her incredulity, Max was packing up and heading off?!
Oh, hell no. Was he really admitting defeat to this obnoxious bitch? It had been nice talking to th- what the hell? Ari was stunned.
The new girl and Max seemed to have some sort of weird relationship or history or something, Ari didn't know which and really didn't care. What was important was that the both of them scattered the library as fast as their legs could carry them, leaving Ariana standing with a smirking Misty.
Ari grimaced, and looked the girl in front of her up and down slowly, much like a predator surveying its prey. Every impulse that she had within her was saying that popular opinion would probably have understood if she gave her one good slap. Just one. Sure, maybe she'd be banned from the public library, but she deserved it.
But she held back. Taking a deep breath, she let her face fall into a neutral expression, and looked down at the floor, shutting her eyes and allowing a moment for her rage to subside. It had been just yesterday that she'd finally relented and agreed to let her new boyfriend drag her to prom - an event that she'd been as happy blowing off and just going to the after-parties as any. But if she leapt across the room and slapped the ever-loving hell out of Misty... she'd probably get arrested. Maybe suspended; prom would be a pipe dream at that point.
And no prom for her would mean a solo appearance for Ross, and Ariana... she couldn't bear to do that to him. Her new boyfriend was a pretty expressive guy, and had been needling her about it for a few weeks, which had actually gotten her excited for it. Plus, in the grand scheme of things, Ariana imagined that someone else in the future would probably do a far better job of slapping the hell out of Misty Browder than she would right now. She'd put money on Misty having some kind of an ass-whipping in her future.
Still quietly seething but having managed to calm herself down, Ariana looked back up at Misty with a quiet little smile on her face. The other girl still held the book that she'd come to the library in search of, but at this point, she knew that an exit was the single best thing she could do.
So an exit, she made.
"Well, Misty," her tone was polite and measured, but she basically spat the girl's name back at her, "I don't share his sentiments. This has been delightfully miserable on all counts."
Her eyes glanced once more at the book. Fuck it, she'd buy the damned thing.
"I mean, there's nothing more that I like than coming to the public library to get knocked over by an asshole on a chair and lectured about the sorry state of our country," she paused and threw extra syrup on top for her next words, "by a self-righteous, prejudicial little bitch. I hope that someday, you find yourself with gangrene in your legs and no money to pay for the operation to save them, thanks to your precious private health care system."
Ariana smiled the most insincere smile that she could muster.
"Have an absolutely wonderful rest of your day, you fear-mongering, right-winged cunt."
Having sufficiently lashed out with no more room on her tether to keep her from striking the girl, she nodded, and whirled around in the other direction. Her anger drove her, causing her legs to keep pumping until she had left Misty, the library, and all of the books behind. She made it three blocks before she finally paused to take a breath and allowed herself to calm down. While ordinarily she hated to lose control, she couldn't help but be pleased to herself. Right-wing garbage like that was a bit of a trigger, and yet... she hadn't hit her.
That was certainly a step in the right direction.
((Ariana Moretti is flying away and hitting the ground with a SPLAT!))
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Grand Moff Hissa
- Posts: 2757
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
I just can't take this much winning.
Too much winning. That was the phrase, tossed around online by people making fun of President Canon and any apparent defeats he suffered or seeming lapses in his policy. Putting aside whether it was invoked correctly (because a lot of the time what people saw as him messing up was actually just him going for goals a lot of onlookers couldn't understand), it was a pretty good burn, Misty had to admit. It was also how she was feeling right now, only unironically.
Max and the girl ran off, and that was half a shame but also meant that now Misty was free to stop watching her rhetoric as closely and get really into things. She wondered briefly what exactly was going on with the others, but it was set aside quickly because she had her focus and she wasn't going to let up. She watched Ariana closely, watched the girl's face go blank and then turn into a little smile, and Misty smiled wide in return because she knew that expression. That was the expression that said its wearer was forcing herself to stay cool, that she was gonna pop at any moment, and when that happened it was game over.
Of course, Max was gone, come to think of it, and a big part of the point of getting Ariana super wound up was for his benefit, so he'd see that in fact Misty was the more reasonable, educated, clear-headed one. The awareness of this situation flashed through her mind for a second, causing her to falter for just an instant, but she was committed and the chills and the force of her conviction buoyed her.
Ariana said Misty's name like a curse, then lapsed into ad hominem. Yep, that was winning for sure. Insults were lowbrow, were the sort of stuff that Ariana's side liked to pride themselves as being above, so it was really satisfying to pull the mask off and reveal the venomous lack of understanding and empathy underlying it all. Cheap, poorly-considered shots didn't cut Misty, they empowered her. Where was the moral high ground now? Misty was saying Hitler sucked and Ariana was wishing her gangrene for it. The technical term for that was: checkmate, bitch.
Except that was right about when the winning crossed the line into "too much," because it didn't stop.
Ariana's last shot was pretty weak, mostly. Have a nice day, yeah yeah, meant ironically and an okay flourish, a capstone to contrast the rest of the tirade. Fear-mongering, yawn, get a thesaurus and stop regurgitating buzzwords that were tired when Al Gore was relevant. Right wing, oh no, what would Misty do? How could she live with herself after that one? She was totally the sort of person to be crushed by being called conservative.
Cunt.
It was a thunderclap, a verbal backhand that shattered the chilly aura Misty had going, that rendered her mute and blasted over her like a wave of fire. Her smile held, because she was too good at being hurt to let it show, but inside her face it turned brittle. Ariana left and Misty stood there, and she'd won, she'd definitely really won because that had been dropped, so why didn't it feel like it? Why did it feel so bad?
Belatedly, she wanted to run after Ariana. She wanted to grab her by the shoulder and spin her around and say, "Excuse me, what?" She wanted to say, "Hold the goddamn phone, aren't you supposed to be politically correct? Aren't you pissed because I implied you were flippant about all the people Hitler killed?" She wanted to say, "What is wrong with you? Where is your self-respect?"
The use of the word was arch hypocrisy. Ew, Misty, it said, you're a girl. You have a vagina instead of a glorious penis. You're just a receptacle for some dude to shoot his spunk in and incubate his babies (that Heaven-permitting will be boys too) and that's filthy and dirty and means you're a worthless piece of meat because you don't have a Y chromosome. And okay, it was a word that a lot of Misty's buddies dropped, and it stabbed her in the gut just a little when they did but it was different, because they said whatever they wanted about everyone, degraded everyone, and if some of their targets were less deserving, like say if they comprised over half the population of the planet thank you very much, then that happened because the people Misty hung out with online were lovable assholes who were rough around the edges and didn't mean anything by it. But Ariana wasn't that. Ariana was a girl too, Ariana was someone who almost certainly had to put up with shit, who had bad dates who got pushy or just wanted to get into her pants, who got ignored by classmates because she didn't have a dick. Ariana was someone who would never, God-forbid, say "The N Word" because that would be evil and bad and wrong and offensive to her precious self-image as a holy knight of the signaled virtue, but to throw out the equivalent against one of her own, to turn traitor over a discussion that got a little heated, yeah, sure, no problem.
So on the one hand, the mask wasn't just off, the skin underneath was peeled away too, revealing the awful bloody mess of horror lurking beneath. That meant Misty definitely totally won. But on the other hand fuck Ariana.
It took about ten minutes for Misty to make her way to the exit to the library and start checking out, and it was only at that point that she realized she was still holding Ariana's stupid Stephen King book. That should've made her happy maybe, but instead she just felt gross at being in contact with contact with an object associated with the girl. Bad energy coming off it, that was for sure, and maybe that was why the whole thing was weighing on her so much, so she just ditched it at the counter. That would make it easier to let go, to have a better day, right?
She wasn't sure. All she could say was she'd had enough winning for a while, thanks.
((Misty Browder continued elsewhere))
Too much winning. That was the phrase, tossed around online by people making fun of President Canon and any apparent defeats he suffered or seeming lapses in his policy. Putting aside whether it was invoked correctly (because a lot of the time what people saw as him messing up was actually just him going for goals a lot of onlookers couldn't understand), it was a pretty good burn, Misty had to admit. It was also how she was feeling right now, only unironically.
Max and the girl ran off, and that was half a shame but also meant that now Misty was free to stop watching her rhetoric as closely and get really into things. She wondered briefly what exactly was going on with the others, but it was set aside quickly because she had her focus and she wasn't going to let up. She watched Ariana closely, watched the girl's face go blank and then turn into a little smile, and Misty smiled wide in return because she knew that expression. That was the expression that said its wearer was forcing herself to stay cool, that she was gonna pop at any moment, and when that happened it was game over.
Of course, Max was gone, come to think of it, and a big part of the point of getting Ariana super wound up was for his benefit, so he'd see that in fact Misty was the more reasonable, educated, clear-headed one. The awareness of this situation flashed through her mind for a second, causing her to falter for just an instant, but she was committed and the chills and the force of her conviction buoyed her.
Ariana said Misty's name like a curse, then lapsed into ad hominem. Yep, that was winning for sure. Insults were lowbrow, were the sort of stuff that Ariana's side liked to pride themselves as being above, so it was really satisfying to pull the mask off and reveal the venomous lack of understanding and empathy underlying it all. Cheap, poorly-considered shots didn't cut Misty, they empowered her. Where was the moral high ground now? Misty was saying Hitler sucked and Ariana was wishing her gangrene for it. The technical term for that was: checkmate, bitch.
Except that was right about when the winning crossed the line into "too much," because it didn't stop.
Ariana's last shot was pretty weak, mostly. Have a nice day, yeah yeah, meant ironically and an okay flourish, a capstone to contrast the rest of the tirade. Fear-mongering, yawn, get a thesaurus and stop regurgitating buzzwords that were tired when Al Gore was relevant. Right wing, oh no, what would Misty do? How could she live with herself after that one? She was totally the sort of person to be crushed by being called conservative.
Cunt.
It was a thunderclap, a verbal backhand that shattered the chilly aura Misty had going, that rendered her mute and blasted over her like a wave of fire. Her smile held, because she was too good at being hurt to let it show, but inside her face it turned brittle. Ariana left and Misty stood there, and she'd won, she'd definitely really won because that had been dropped, so why didn't it feel like it? Why did it feel so bad?
Belatedly, she wanted to run after Ariana. She wanted to grab her by the shoulder and spin her around and say, "Excuse me, what?" She wanted to say, "Hold the goddamn phone, aren't you supposed to be politically correct? Aren't you pissed because I implied you were flippant about all the people Hitler killed?" She wanted to say, "What is wrong with you? Where is your self-respect?"
The use of the word was arch hypocrisy. Ew, Misty, it said, you're a girl. You have a vagina instead of a glorious penis. You're just a receptacle for some dude to shoot his spunk in and incubate his babies (that Heaven-permitting will be boys too) and that's filthy and dirty and means you're a worthless piece of meat because you don't have a Y chromosome. And okay, it was a word that a lot of Misty's buddies dropped, and it stabbed her in the gut just a little when they did but it was different, because they said whatever they wanted about everyone, degraded everyone, and if some of their targets were less deserving, like say if they comprised over half the population of the planet thank you very much, then that happened because the people Misty hung out with online were lovable assholes who were rough around the edges and didn't mean anything by it. But Ariana wasn't that. Ariana was a girl too, Ariana was someone who almost certainly had to put up with shit, who had bad dates who got pushy or just wanted to get into her pants, who got ignored by classmates because she didn't have a dick. Ariana was someone who would never, God-forbid, say "The N Word" because that would be evil and bad and wrong and offensive to her precious self-image as a holy knight of the signaled virtue, but to throw out the equivalent against one of her own, to turn traitor over a discussion that got a little heated, yeah, sure, no problem.
So on the one hand, the mask wasn't just off, the skin underneath was peeled away too, revealing the awful bloody mess of horror lurking beneath. That meant Misty definitely totally won. But on the other hand fuck Ariana.
It took about ten minutes for Misty to make her way to the exit to the library and start checking out, and it was only at that point that she realized she was still holding Ariana's stupid Stephen King book. That should've made her happy maybe, but instead she just felt gross at being in contact with contact with an object associated with the girl. Bad energy coming off it, that was for sure, and maybe that was why the whole thing was weighing on her so much, so she just ditched it at the counter. That would make it easier to let go, to have a better day, right?
She wasn't sure. All she could say was she'd had enough winning for a while, thanks.
((Misty Browder continued elsewhere))