acatalepsy_logs | [closed] i wish we'd met before;

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[closed] i wish we'd met before;

Who: Princess Allura & ~~Prince~~ Emperor Lotor
Where: Struxta
When: backdated, threads taking place throughout 7/11-7/16
Rating PG for now?
What: the two nobles lived together in harmony. then, everything changed when S6 attacked.

7/11 - the jump
[Without a teludav or mode of transportation in sight, Allura had wondered just how the Circle would be transported into a new world. She knew bits and pieces from what little she was told by the others, and from her own experience of having been dragged here unannounced, but when it finally does happen, it happens and for all the space travel and reality jumping Allura has done in the past, the strange magical pull in her stomach and the disorientation of being yanked from one end of the universe to another without a vessel still has her feeling a bit queasy for the first few ticks of her arrival.

But afterwards, she gathers herself and her senses and begins to poke around the room in the hostel in which it seems everyone in the Circle will be staying at. She'll want to explore this world, figure out just what it is that Astoria says seems chaotic. Her connection to the life energy around her has been cut, kept within instead of being able to reach out and feel for others, so it's a frustration she still needs to learn to get over.

But before setting out, she will want to meet with the others of her team from home. To make heads of how they're all feeling, to discuss this world and Astoria and the vague situation at hand. And while ordinarily she'd reach out to Shiro first, him being the most knowledgeable and the leader, she feels the desire to message someone else instead.

Privately, she messages Lotor. In a way that Astoria cannot look and construe any other way but amicable should she choose to look at her device's history.]

Lotor? How are you faring following the jump? I would like to see you.

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[ oddly, it isn't necessarily the revelation of the truth that bothers him the most, or the way that she holds back her tears, or even the gravity of the situation. there's an odd hollow feeling, in his chest, at the knowledge that he hurt her, but it's really the devil in the details, that causes the biggest tug in his chest.

our people -- no, my people.

he knows, full well, what he is. and while he isn't necessarily ashamed of it, lotor had lulled himself into this false sense of security that perhaps allura understood, more than most, that he belonged somewhere. the galra will never accept him, but the alteans, with their loving acceptance of all things, likely would.

but that statement seems to draw an invisible line in the sand, and it stings, deep underneath his skin. but he swallows his insult and his pride, because focusing on that is not going to solve anything. he doesn't belong here, or there, or anywhere. what else is new. his hurt feelings aren't the priority, here.

allura knows part of the truth. he has to decide how to mitigate the damages. ]

I saved them, from Zarkon's genocidal rampage across the universe.

[ start there, with the truth. most of the truth. how in the hell did the paladins find out?

he stops there, before he hesitates, and glances back at the chair in the room before moving toward her, extending a hand -- not touching her, but an offer to take it, gesturing with his free hand for her to sit, if she so chooses. and his tone shifts into something a little more gentle, less formulaic, almost the slightest hint of pleading: ]

Will you sit, and speak with me? Allow me to explain the truth. Please.

[ it's a fruitless endeavor, lotor, says the little voice inside her head. she has her mind made up. but he has to at least try. ]

If it was truly to save them, then why did you not tell me?

[That's only part of the betrayal. She feels strung along, her emotions toyed with. The way he held her hand and looked at her and believed in her...that hurts knowing it was likely nothing more than a lie. A lie to get her to do what he wants, a lie to get her to create that monstrosity of a robot strong enough to nearly overpower Voltron.

She cannot begin to fathom how much has changed in over the course of a varga. In knowing that the Alteans are in the thousands, on a planet some great distance away where it took Keith two years to reach. For the longest time she had felt alone. And she had opened herself up to Lotor in a she wouldn't have for anyone else, emotionally, physically.

And she thought he felt the same way. That their travels to Oriande genuinely meant something about reclaiming the ancient art of Altean Alchemy. The story he told her of his past, the way he wanted to achieve peace and avoid the exploitative, empirical ways of Zarkon.

Their time here together may have put their work on pause, but her feelings for him hadn't. It was easy to fall for him, but now she wonders how much of it could even possibly be the truth. Was he just stringing her along? Like how he played Deity to the Altean colony?

What is the truth when all this proves him to be a liar by omission.

She doesn't even look at his outstretched hand, but his approach does have her tensing, in anger, in disgust. His pleading with her is an act. This was all an act. Surely. She was just another means to an end, another for him to exploit.

She stares him down, stands her ground, but it's so hard to look at him.]

You cannot possibly explain away the truth. How many Alteans were lost, Lotor? How many did you use?

[ she doesn't take his hand, and refuses to look at him, and lotor only allows his hand to hang in the air for half a moment before he withdraws it, allowing it to hang back by his side. what he should do is simply suggest they talk about it later -- be smart, and practical.

but his emotion drives his response -- quiet, a little strained: ]

And what was I to say, Allura?

[ his tone isn't defensive, but it also forces the proper question. ]

I had no allies, in this fight. The Paladins of Voltron wanted to kill me because of who, and what, I am. My father issued an intergalactic bounty on my head the moment I fled his clutches, and I had nothing. What was I to do, in order to gain your trust? Inform you that I had secluded a portion of the Altean people away, in hiding, in order to preserve our last hope at saving the entirety of the universe? Give you more of a reason to execute me on the spot, rather than live to fight another day?

[ he should stop, but instead, lotor persists. ]

Every single word I have told you, about myself, about my goals, about peace, and about you, have not been a lie. I want, more than anything, to have the universe come to peace, as it should have been, before my father corrupted it. I -- [ he pauses, but only for half a moment, before continuing: ] I could not afford to tell you the reality, because doing so would have meant it would have been for nothing. Don't you understand that?

Edited 2018-08-08 02:03 (UTC)

[Her eyes squeeze shut, her own emotions in turmoil, and her hand falls from the wall, balling into a shaking fist. Her insides are burning, his words and the seemingly easy way he seems to answer her without giving her anything direct. It falls to his victimhood, not to the victims he left behind on the colony, the thousands of innocents he kept sequestered away all while using their quintessence.

She may never get to see what Keith had seen with the Altean woman he told her about, but the story resonates deep within her. Of family lost to a powerful entity.]

You secluded them away to use them. Keith has told me about the harvesting pods. The strain of quintessence! [She opens her eyes to glare openly at him, the corners of her eyes wet, the tops of her cheeks damp. She's trying her hardest not to cry in front of him, but the tears are persistent. What sickens her is that she wants the believe him. That everything he's told her isn't a lie. But he's proven her wrong again and again, has always been one step ahead. He likely never accounted for this to come to light.]

Stop avoiding my question!

[It comes in an outburst. She knows Shiro believes there's a way to avoid what's to follow. What's to become of him. But she's not heeding his words as she does finally step forward, hands to his chest, shoving him back and away from her in anger.] How many Alteans did you kill, Lotor?

[ he instinctively moves to catch her hands, to prevent her from shoving him, but he stops himself at the last moment, stumbling backward a step or two at the sudden bout of aggression. there's an odd hammering in his chest, his heart beating rapidly -- nerves, anxiety, attempting to scramble together in order to figure out what to say, to fix it, but there is truly nothing to fix, or to say, except to answer her question. ]

Purposefully? None. But some lives were lost, in transfer. A handful, in comparison to those that were lost in the final battle, ten thousand years ago.

[ finally, allowing his hands to fall to his side again. ]

Most survive to live through the new age, once the Empire falls.

[It's an unsatisfying answer. But she doesn't know what would have been. He's kept the Alteans imprisoned, preyed on their ignorance, preyed on their quintessence and used them. A handful.

A handful.

He's never known Altea. She thought he understood, thought he knew. All his research, all his praise...she truly did not feel alone.

But now, with him in this room, knowing he's responsible for a handful of deaths all in the name of what he believes to be peace, it feels like a looming shadow. He really doesn't see what's wrong. He really doesn't look to the loss of those lives as nothing more than mere numbers to compare to how much more Zarkon had done. Her hands ball back into fists, pressing hard at her sides. Her eyes close. Finally, the tears fall.

Because there is even still a relief in knowing there are Alteans alive in this world. Far more than she could have possibly imagined since waking up all that time ago to find her universe has changed. It was something she could have never imagined, an entire colony. But the tears are also in mourning, for the countless lives lost in transfer, for the young Bandor Keith told her about. That Lotor had taken them in but collected them like livestock, to use their quintessence as he saw fit.

A handful.]

Get out of my room.

[ she's not getting it. and a small part of him challenges that statement, because how could she? her most trusted allies told her a story, and lotor was not there to tell his side of it. and there is a lot to say, a lot to explain, to challenge her viewpoint of him, to tell her how he has struggled against the universe for ten thousand years while --

but all of that is pointless, to tell her now, and yet, lotor does not move. ]

I care for you, more than I thought possible.

[ a little more forcefully, than before, and he takes half a step forward. more into her personal space, but not quite close enough to touch her. ]

If I were truly an evil monstrosity, why would I go through the effort? If what your comrades say is true, why would I allow myself the time to garner feelings for you?

[ he hesitates, then, before reaching up to attempt to gently caress her face, to wipe away her tears with a thumb, almost imploringly: ]

I am not a conqueror, or a senseless murderer, Allura. You know that, in your heart. I [ hope ] know you do.

[She wishes he'd stop talking, that he'd heed her words and leave. She may not be composed enough to stop herself from crying, but she has enough composition to keep her breath from hitching at his admittance of caring for her.

It hurts because she wants it to be true. It hurts because she cares...cared deeply for him. She wants to believe it so badly, and were this mere vargas ago she'd have accepted this wholeheartedly, say the same in return.

That she did indeed love him, and even in hearing and knowing of his true nature, his true past, she still does. But he is a monster, she wants to say as much, and his being in her personal space has her tensing, and then when she feels his thumb brush gently against her cheek--

Her eyes snap open and she's working through raw emotion now, reaching up to grab his hand hard, wrenching it away from her face and twisting it in almost an attempt to pop his arm from its socket. There are so many things she wants to do, that she knows she doesn't have the full strength to do, physically because of how her abilities have been tainted, or emotionally because of how he's tainted her into feeling this way.]

Do not touch me.

[But she stares him down, tears still falling, but there is hurt and there is anger shining clear.]

You are no better than Zarkon.

[Her grip on his hand is tight, vice-like, before finally letting go.]

Get out.

Edited 2018-08-08 03:45 (UTC)

[ there's an immediate tensing of muscle, as allura grabs his hand and twists it -- and perhaps because lotor, too, is so used to his own natural abilities that he doesn't fight her when she grabs his hand. but, surprisingly, it hurts, and a hiss escapes through teeth as he's pulled forward half a step.

( in retrospect, he likely shouldn't have reached out to touch her with his dominant hand, given he's now fairly certain she twisted something in his wrist, which he needs in order to hold a sword properly, but -- too late now. )

his own expression is hard to read -- frustrated, certainly, but there are tinges of desperation, and certainly the same hurt, in the corners of his eyes. betrayal, maybe, even if it's entirely misplaced. but he doesn't yank his wrist out of her grip, remaining still. he's about to do as she asks -- to pull away from her grip, to collect his things, and to leave, when she says that.

his eyes widen, slightly, almost as if she had shoved him again -- stunned, at the accusation, clearly not expecting that from her. a sharp knife, directly underneath the skin, and for a fairly long moment, lotor looks genuinely shocked into silence, because allura certainly doesn't mean that.

she says it to be hurtful, surely. she's upset, and angry, rightfully so, and she reached for the sharpest tool at her disposal, to do the most damage. she couldn't possibly believe such a thing, after everything they had witnessed together, after everything they had done, after what he had done, he had murdered zarkon to better the universe, and she --

something inside his head snaps.

he had been stupid. stupid, stupid, stupid. believing the lie had been so stupid. she doesn't care about him, nor does she see past any portion of him past the galran blood that flows through his veins. she sees zarkon, instead of the individual who has fought for ten thousand years to unseat him, because lotor will never leave his fucking shadow --

speaking in anger does not become him. stooping to her level is not going to do anything. but, in the moment, lotor ignores his own advice. ]

Don't speak to me of Zarkon, Princess, when you have no idea who he is. You were asleep.

[ quietly, delicately, staring back at her, seemingly not hearing her last command, to get out of the room they had been sharing. his expression, prior to that, had been relatively controlled. now, he definitely looks hurt. betrayed. angry. ]

I was awake. I lived through every single eternity of his bastardization of the universe. And I had to survive him, his own blood, because he could not stand to look at me due to my inferiority. He burned planets just to spite me, and my curiosity of the galaxies, because I was the mistake he made. He murdered billions to win some spiteful argument against your father, allowed my mother to sink into madness, and for what? An empire? His ego? And you compare me to him?

[ he sucks in a breath through his teeth before taking half a step backward, to collect his things -- he will not leave without his sword, but he doesn't turn his back toward allura, his heart hammering in his chest as he continues, icily: ]

You consider yourself alone? You don't know the meaning.

[The genuine look of betrayal has her heart stuttering in what feels to a stop. An icy cold settling in her gut in place of the fire that burned in her moments ago, and she stares back at him, eyes still glassy, knowing full well that she's successfully drawn a line in the sand but wondering if it's something she truly meant.

She hates him. Wants to hate him. And she feels her chest seizing up into an ache even deeper than before in knowing that for all the anger this revelation has caused, there does remain a part of her still wanting to reach out, especially in knowing what's to become of him in the future.

But the way he switches so swiftly from pleading with her to this anger only furthers her belief that this was all an act for him. He's speaking at her in such a way that has her skin aching, her heart aching, and she clenches her hand even harder, nails digging into the palms of her hand. She knows little of what he went through, but knew he lived through those ten-thousand years while she was put to sleep by a father who loved her dearly. She cannot imagine the sort of life ten-thousand years with a father like Zarkon would entail, but only knows the outcome of a man who uses others, uses her as a means to an end.

It hurts. And as he steps back to collect his things she remains uncharacteristically silent, lips drawn into a thin line, still glaring at him with a quivering lip and tears that feel endless. She wants to remain mad, and perhaps in a true battle she would have the energy to keep this anger up.

But her heart aches. For him, she realizes, even through her own heartbreak at what he's done in his secret pocket of the galaxy. But there's nothing she can do, and ever persistent, her emotions well up.

He's a broken man. She can see that clearly.]

You could have been better. [She thought he were better.] But you took advantage of those who did trust you. [She looked up to him. The colony Alteans treated him like a god.

She's frustrated, mad, but the shock of all this has her running colder than cold, burnt out, and she brushes the wet from her cheeks roughly with the palms of her hand, eyes red-rimmed.]

You played me for a fool. Tricked me into helping you, into falling for you--

[He's collecting his things, but he's not leaving soon enough for her. And before he could get another word in, she steps back, only then turning her back towards him and opening the door to leave. She's already said too much, and she doesn't want to look at him.]

You better be gone when I return.

[And she steps out, the door shutting loudly behind her.]

Edited 2018-08-08 04:41 (UTC)

I did not trick you into --

[ but the sentence dies in his throat, as she keeps speaking, and eventually leaves the room, the door closing behind her with a snap. and he's left there, alone, silent, for a solid three minutes, as the reality of the situation seeps into his being.

if allura knows, in the future, then the rest of the paladins do. which means that his plan is for naught. all of the hard work, the overthrowing of zarkon, seizing the throne, working to understand quintessence, the universe, to stop the barbaric conquering mentality of the galra, and shift it into something civilized . . . the paladins, having discovered his maintenance strategy, would surely strike against him.

is he dead? did allura kill him? is his reign truly over? was it truly that fleeting?

your reign will be a black spot on galran history. wasn't that what zarkon told him, when lotor last had a proper conversation with him? his father thought he was nothing, and his mother, dead. was zarkon right, in the end? had his way of running the universe simply been too . . . impossible? or was all of this too good to be true? was envisioning a future where he ruled, better than zarkon, with allura, too good to be true?

clearly. obviously. because he could be better. he could always be better, and he can't argue that, because it is true. he should have been better, and he needed to be better, but there never seems to be an end-goal to being better when he already has the expectation of being a monstrosity set on his shoulders before he can properly begin.

allura, obviously, doesn't seem to actually believe it, seeing as she believes him to be no better than zarkon --

there's a sudden crack of glass, and lotor inhales deeply, spinning in place abruptly at the noise behind him -- and he realizes that the small mirror against the wall now has a clean crack through it. his brow furrows, and he raises a hand to touch the glass, but the mirror trembles against the wall when he moves closer to it . . . and, belatedly, he remembers his gift, from the Witch.

there's a slight hiss between his teeth, at the realization that he lost control, before he abruptly turns and gathers up his sword and his things, and leaves the room without a further word, leaving the mirror on the wall.

remaining here is pointless. she can have her way. ]

Edited 2018-08-11 01:56 (UTC)

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[closed] i wish we'd met before;

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