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.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[ this is infuriating.

being someone else's plaything is something lotor abhors. it makes his skin itch, that he has no proper choice in this. some part of him almost wants to request an audience with this witch, to demand how the emperor of half the known universe can possibly be expected to bend to the will of another, but it isn't a very smart move, politically speaking. no one here gives half a damn who he is, and while some part of him finds that refreshing, the other part has quickly realized that his part of the universe is far more advantageous to his position than this one.

still. there isn't much he can do, and at least he has allies here. allura is here, which makes this piece of the universe far less insufferable than it otherwise would be. at least he has her. better than anyone who wants to actively murder him, anyway.

so it's with a stir of happiness, that he receives her message, distracting him from his aggravated brooding as he explores this damn prison, responding quickly, in kind: ]

I am currently outside what they call the Hostel, attempting to get some sort of answer out of anyone. It turns out these people are less inclined to conversation than our own.

Other than that, I am fine. Are you?

[She smiles fondly at the swiftness with which he responds, taking a seat on her bed to read over the message. Of course he's already searching for answers from the locals. His pragmatism is something that she look towards with admiration.]

I am well, though the jump had admittedly left me feeling quite queasy for a few ticks.

But you are not far from where I am; I've been looking around the Hostel and the accommodations we've been provided with. [Pausing thoughtfully, she bites the nail of her thumb, glancing over to Platt who's already made himself at home on the bed's pillow.] Do you require any company? I've been meaning to head down to the ground level.

I would never turn down your company.

[ besides, keeping her close seems to be a better option than being apart, especially in a new world. they're much stronger and more effective together than separated. ]

But I can also come to you, if you are still feeling ill. I admittedly didn't explore much of the Hostel past acknowledging it was there.

[ their accommodations suck compared to the massive space stations or the castle, allura, this is shit. ]

Oh! No I am not feeling ill. [She's quick to respond. Who do you take her for...pre-paladin Hunk?

Nonsense.]

I can come and meet with you down in the lobby. We can explore together.

[I mean she's not one to argue and she'll....have to agree that this overlarge building leaves much to be desired after living on the Castle-ship for so long.]

If you're certain. I'll move inside, then.

[ she seems to not want to remain there, and who is he to deny her? ]

I will impatiently await your arrival, Princess.

[It takes her a bit to reach the ground level of the Hostel. Her room may not be as high up as the building itself, but even all the technology in the world couldn't help her properly navigate what little she knows of this place any faster. But, luckily, she doesn't get lost.

The ground floor itself is...just as massive as the looming Hostel itself. Upon arrival she only had a cursory look around before settling into her room to gather herself, so now she allows herself to be a bit wide-eyed and impressed with the structure, pace slowing as she looks around, passing by other members of the Circle, and taking a mental note of the Welcome Committee.

Lotor is easy to spot, his shock of white hair and imposing figure standing around in the lobby has her pausing for a moment to consider him as he waits. She blushes, happily, and steadying that small beat of joy she feels whenever she sees him, she approaches.]

Sorry to keep you waiting. This place is far larger than I anticipated.

[She's remained in her paladin armour, both from a lack of a proper change of clothes, and also because this world may present itself as harmless for now, she'd be remiss if she dressed down in her flightsuit only to encounter trouble.

Also, luckily, Platt has remained resting in her room. So it it truly just the two of them.]

[ it reminds him, vaguely, of home. -- or, well, certain parts of home. his main station is just as looming and magnificent, in part, and the abundance of technology certainly feels familiar. but it is massive, and there is plenty to look at while he waits -- demonstrated by how lotor isn't looking at allura, when she finds him first, his arms crossed loosely over his chest to peer around the high ceilings, taking note of the robotic guards . . .

but he hears allura's voice, and he turns, greeting her with a smile. he, too, is still in his armor, reluctant to let his guard down. he unfolds his arms, inclining his head slightly in greeting. ]

It is large, but it is certainly nothing as splendid or grand as your Castle, I'm afraid.

[ lotor is half convinced the prison cell on the castle had been bigger than his room here, but he keeps that opinion (perhaps wisely) to himself.

he then offers a hand, for her to take, if she so chooses. ]

Where do you want to explore first?

[Smiling back, she's eager to take his offered hand in hers. Following their time together at the festival, she's felt far more at ease with easy, simple touches, tethering herself to him.]

It could use a lot of redecorating. If only Coran were here... [She says it idly, with the ease of a passing joke, though her voice does trail off a bit at the mention of her advisor. Her hand squeezes Lotor for a tick, unthinkingly, as though to reassure herself of his presence, before turning around to look about the lobby.] I was thinking of seeing what this place offers in terms of food, seeing as this world seems to only house inorganic life. But...have you spoken with the Welcome Committee, yet?

The food is terrible.

[ he says it without hesitation, his tone not quite annoyed, but it's clear that he is not impressed. ]

Reminiscent of what the Castle creates, but with somehow less flavor. Clearly protein and vitamin based, to keep people alive, without any of the flavor . . . your Yellow Lion would have a fit. [ hunk would have a cat-niption over this trash and honestly it is 100% warranted. but at her question of the welcoming committee, lotor allows a soft noise in his throat. distrust. ]

I have, but not much luck in obtaining information about the goals of this place. The androids seem to be controlled or connected by something called the Mass Subconsciousness -- it's as mysterious as it sounds. There is a Library, and also something known as the Races.

{ lotor 100% sounds interested in both the library and the races but something about the concept of the races seems a little more exciting. ]

Other than that, they told me to enjoy my time, and went about their way.

Oh... [She frowns, looking displeased at his answer. Not that she believes the Castle-ship's typical cuisine is bad without Hunk's flourish added to them, but the idea of bland sustenance for the duration of their stay is...

Perhaps this is how the paladins felt when first dining aboard the Castle-ship.] Hunk would certainly have a fit, but then would try to figure out a solution to such an unappetizing dilemma.

[A pout. Of course Lotor has already accomplished the few ideas she had on hand, not that it's unsurprising: he's a shrewd man, calculating and leaving no stone un-turned. But her ears perk at the mention of a library, and the races.]

Astoria did say before our arrival that she felt something stirring. [Not that she trusts this Witch, but finally being able to put a proper face to a name certainly gave her some better insight as to the strange machinations of this Circle. She seems young, something she didn't quite expect from someone referred to by others as a Witch, and Allura shares an understanding of following something based on how you feel.] I am sure if we searched the library we would learn more of this world and what they mean by the Mass Subconsciousness, perhaps even find information which gives us a clue to whatever it is Astoria feels from this place. But...

Maybe we should see what these races are all about?

[ the smart thing to do would be go to to the library, and lotor won't lie -- he has an overwhelming urge to do so. the need to understand what they're doing here, and the need for knowledge, is nearly palpable. and the sooner they figure it out, the sooner they can leave, and the sooner they can go home.

. . . but: ]

You want to go to the Races?

[ almost impressed, as he tugs her hand -- slightly, a bit coy, toward the exit of the lobby. that certainly sounds like a more fun excursion, a chance to see the less idyllic parts of the city, a chance to understand struxta, and -- perhaps most importantly: ]

I fly fast, Princess.

[ a chance to show off, if given the opportunity. ]

So I can recall. [She's seen him fly, witnessed it firsthand. Her first true excursion as the Paladin of the Blue Lion is not one she'll forget, even if times have changed and new alliances occurred. The fear and frustration she had felt initially has been replaced with that of a joyous one, with finally finding her place with Blue. Coming to an understanding with her Lion to free herself from danger.

Funny, even before they became allies, Lotor has helped her once before, in a way.

Falling in step with him, his coy tugging at her has her heart skipping another beat or two. She allows herself to be coy as well, lacing her fingers between his, punctuating it with a small nudge with her elbow. Gentle. Playful.]

But I have outmaneuvered you before.

[ the comment and nudge earns a slight laugh, and lotor guides her toward the door, their minds seemingly made up. races it is. ]

I will concede a single defeat.

[ a single one!!! ]

But if you're certain, we can investigate the lower edges of town, to see if the androids there are similarly situated to these. And perhaps a race or two, if they're willing to allow us to test a bike.

[She responds with a light laugh of her own, her free hand coming up to her mouth in order to quell it.]

Of course. A single defeat...for now.

[A challenge! But a fun one. And the promise of investigating the lower portions of the city has a certain mysterious edge to it. To learn more of this world in a way beyond meeting fellow leaders and rulers, getting to see what the people...er...androids here do for recreation--

It's exciting.]

And I am positively certain. Sometimes the best way to understand the denizens of a world is to understand what it is they do for recreation.

[And as they make their way from the Hostel and through the main streets of Struxta, she looks around. Her voice pitches a bit low, for only Lotor to hear.]

Especially since I did not know androids could have fun. If that's what these races are for.

[ for now. a challenge, indeed, one that lotor is intent on winning. but as they walk through the streets, heading (vaguely) toward the races, lotor glances down toward her, interested in why she was suddenly lowering her voice --

ah. ]

I confess that I've never bothered to properly ask if they were capable of fun. They have a set purpose, and they see that purpose . . . which, truth be told, seems to be how this world works.

[ curiously enough. the world is immaculate, and everything does seem to be clockwork . . . thusfar. ]

But the imposition of racing for sport is a little odd, now that you say it. Particularly for such a utilitarian environment.

[Nodding, she takes in the sights and sounds of a city that is remarkably alien and...seemingly perfect, while still remaining ever-cognizant of Lotor's presence beside her.

There is something, admittedly, to be admired by a city that has seemed to have achieved something that appears to be true peace. But there's something about it that sours the thought, thinking to a reality that could have been, and when thinking to the non-cogs her mind drifts to what Lotor had mentioned.

The Mass Subconsciousness.]

A utilitarian environment... [she echoes that phrase, voice still low, and looking away from the sights her gaze grows a bit hooded in thought.] It's strange. I know we've only just arrived here, and perhaps we will feel differently further away from the city's center, but I simply cannot understand what Astoria means by chaos.

Racing is something that people like Lance and Keith [the best and easiest examples of chaos and unpredictability she can think of tbh] would enjoy. Unless these races are a means to try and test new technologies...

[But she's no Pidge and no Hunk, so the thought of new technologies stops there. Her area of expertise still remains in diplomacy and, now, with the research of alchemy and magic.]

[ indeed, in this perfect world, there doesn't seem to be anything . . . wrong. but it's in that perfection that has lotor suspicious; perfection simply does not exist, no matter how desperately you strive to attain it. and no world is free of flaws.

no, something is wrong, here. it just lies deeper than the surface-level beauty that is the city. ]

I've seen many worlds rise and fall, and none of them have ever been perfect.

[ it's said without much fanfare, but there's a subtle weight, in the words. ten thousand years is a long time; no civilization lasts forever, and even the most perfect and idyllic creations are stomped out, eventually. in their world, it was mostly thanks to zarkon. here? lotor hasn't figured it out yet.

but he soon abandons that subject, giving her a slightly knowing look, at her talk of the races, and when lotor speaks, he sounds amused: ]

You? Not one for adrenaline?

[ please. ]

I cannot think of a single other person better suited to navigating raceways of certain death and destruction than you, but if you think you'll lose, I'll spare you the spectacle and explore them on my own.

[ #challenge :) ]

[What he says hangs between them with that subtle weight, knowing fully well that Lotor has indeed witnessed the rise and fall of many worlds, all lost to the deathgrip of his father. And while that era may soon be ended with their alliance and the death of Zarkon, she still gently squeezes Lotor's hand reassuringly, remembering the story of the planet he had overseen and lost.

The loss of Altea was one she never witnessed. The moment she woke, all that remained were skeletons of lost planets, including her own.

Instead, for now, she'll focus on the topic of the races, Lotor's teasing amusement getting another laugh from her, and she gives him a wry look.]

I was just using those two as an example; I am far more composed when it comes to challenges than Lance. [a....lie.] You seem quick to not want to race me...too bad for you I will not leave you alone to your own devices.

[challenge indeed.

also, she dares a more obvious tinge of flirtation.]

I will enjoy the spectacle-- of you coming in second behind me.

Well, you know what they say about goals; they do begin as dreams.

[ a dry quip, thought he squeeze to his hand does not go unnoticed. it causes a stir in his chest, a quiet warmth to spread -- something he hadn't expected, in meeting her. she was supposed to be a simple stepping stone to obtaining what was truly needed for the universe, but here . . .

well. there's no need to think about the universe, here and now, correct? they're here to explore this world, figure out how to get out of it, and most immediately, obtain two racing bikes so lotor can prove allura wrong. ]

Did you fly much, as a child? Before Voltron, before the Paladins. [ he sounds a little curious; they're edging closer to the racing district, moving through streets that contain a multitude of storefronts and machine shops. ] It doesn't seem like much of a dignified activity becoming of a Princess of Altea, but you've proven me wrong in every other respect thusfar.

[She had to leave.

The how and the why isn't something she can stand to process. It's unbelievable, feels like pure fiction no matter how delicately they put it. But she's known them for so long, long enough where she knows there is no room for lies, or obfuscation of the truth. She'd have believed them had they looked the same as when they went to bed the night before, but they don't. At least, not Keith, and especially not Shiro.

But for the comparably short time she's known Lotor, she feels she's known him. The connection they share, what they both are and can be-- there was always a part of her that felt empty, a gnawing need for something good and someone good who understood her and her people's history, that he seemed to fill.

And with their duties on hold it had been very easy to grow close. To share a room, to share more than she's ever shared with another person.

But he used her. Lied to her. She thought he was different than she initially perceived him, thought him to be more than a relic of what his father had been. She had seen hope in him, found a strong affinity for him, but--

She moves quickly from where she met Keith and the others, feeling ill and shaky and trying to find solid ground to walk on. The closer she gets to their room, the more tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She wipes them back, tries to steady herself before entering the room. She left him with a kiss but now...

But now.

She wants to remain calm, but her approach is already intense, only crossing the threshold of the door so that it closes behind her. Perhaps she shouldn't be alone with him for this, but...]

Is it true? [Her voice is strained. Disbelieving.] It is true that there is a colony?

[She makes a small noise between her teeth, something between a 'pish' and a laugh, rolling her eyes at the dry quip. But...it's nice.

She likes this.

She likes him.

It's not even a revelation that comes as a surprise to her. It's something she's felt ever since they started to truly become allies. When they spent time together in Haggar's study. He's...good.]

I flew quite a bit, actually. [She smiles, looking proud.] My father would teach me whenever he could. Not...that I ever thought I'd become a paladin myself, nor did I exactly learn to fly with the intention to race, but I was not a sheltered child.

[There's more she wants to say. Like asking him what he thought would be becoming for an Altean Princess. What he had expected of her before he actually knew her?

But. She still knows so little of him. She knows his childhood, with a father like Zarkon, was hardly good and well-rounded like hers had been. But even still--

They're almost to the racing district now.]

What about you? Did you fly for sport when you were young?

[ it's an odd feeling, really, having allura. he's not so sure that it's love, but it's definitely a fierce protectiveness, a deep-seated affection . . . which, he supposes, might be love. it's been so long since he's felt such a thing (if at all) that it's difficult to tell. but lotor knows that allura is important, and worth protecting, and she means something to him. and, most importantly, she seems to feel the same.

figuring that out takes some amount of time, and effort, on his part. but for now, he seems content to figure it out the slow way, and here, time seems to have been paused. and when allura went to go explore for the day, lotor had checked in once or twice before settling in to go through the network, figure out what was happening in struxta itself, and figuring out what the next move was going to be.

it's in the middle of going through some of the information he had collected from the library, earlier that day, when he hears the door open. his eyes dart up, immediately ready to greet her with a smile, but he stops, when he sees the expression on her face. and lotor opens his mouth, to ask her what is wrong, when she speaks first.

his brow furrows, confused -- genuinely confused, at her words, because it takes half a moment to place out what she's talking about. a colony? there are millions of colonies in the universe, most of them planted by zarkon. of course there are colonies, and allura knows that, and she can't possibly suddenly be upset with lotor over something that he did not do -- but then something clicks in his head. and with that connection, an odd curl of anxiety settles into his chest.

keith and shiro, earlier, had spoken on the network of memories. new memories, granted by the witch. lotor hadn't bothered to comment upon it, because if keith and shiro wished to contact him about whatever they endured, they would do so. and, additionally, lotor had faith that allura would simply tell him whatever had happened. they had seemed relatively fine, albeit . . . different, physically, and they hadn't mentioned him.

a mistake. a foolish mistake. but how could they have known? . and, more importantly, how much did they tell allura?

it's irrelevant. because now -- ]

I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about.

[ finally, quietly, as he rises to his feet. he keeps his hands in plain view -- unarmed, non-threatening. pointless to play stupid, but he needs more information out of her to know what ground he stands now. ]

What happened?

[His confusion only serves in stoking the heat of hurt that's aching in her chest. The one that has her playing over and over what Keith and Shiro had told her. What Keith had seen.

She doesn't understand the magic at play here. But she does understand being made a fool. She keeps one hand braced against the wall, not wanting to approach him even as he rises, holds his hands out in a gesture that tries to portray innocence.

But there's blood on those hands.]

Keith...Shiro and Lance, they all told me about what you've done. That you've been keeping an Altean colony.

[Her fingers tense, shutting her eyes for a moment to ground herself. She will not cry. But she also cannot bring herself to properly fathom the whole of what she's been told. Of the harvesting. Of those dead and lost.]

That you were using our people-- my people, for a means to an end.

[ 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)

[ there's a natural hesitance, before answering the question, because talking about his childhood with much anyone is a show of weakness, and vulnerability. but he has already shared with allura far more than he has with anyone else, about how he feels, concerning the empire. his family. no one else knows, really, how deeply troubled he is by it, or how much he wants to break away from it.

it's refreshing, almost. to be himself.

still, there's a slight hum at her question, considering it carefully before answering. ]

I have a natural talent for it. [ it's approximately 50/50, in terms of truth and modest boasting. ] But racing for sport, for me, across the galaxy, wasn't safe, when I was younger. I wasn't sheltered, necessarily, but far too many people wanted my father dead, and would have taken me instead, had they been given the proper opportunity.

[ not that zarkon would have cared, but lotor didn't want his head on a stake. so he stuck close to where he was safe, while he learned how to take care of himself. ]

I mostly stuck close to the bases, rather than the outer colonies, when I was young. Once I was old enough to leave and no one could stop me without being defeated in combat, I did, and I never turned back . . . until I had to.

[ he pauses. ]

I spent most of my childhood reading, studying. Preparing for my ascent to the throne. [ there's a slight shrug of his shoulders ] I got much better at racing after I was exiled. No one caught me unless I wanted to be caught.

[ including, as it were, the paladins. ]

[For all the sights and sounds that surround them, her attention does focus squarely on Lotor as he talks. She finds that it's easy to pay attention to him, even among a more fantastical setting, and there's a small warmth of appreciation coiling deep in her heart as he talks a bit more of his past, knowing that with an upbringing like his it may not have been easy to do things for fun.

Again, she gives his hand a light and gentle squeeze, and her expression softens with a smile of admiration, almost adoration, especially when he speaks of his more studious side.

She can picture it: a young Lotor settled in his quarters with a large tome of an ancient book. But the mention of his exile does put that calm and quiet image of him studying away.]

For what it's worth, allowing us to capture you has lead to something great. And again, I really do apologize for how we treated you in the earlier days of your alliance with us.

[she has to say it again. truly feeling this way. and now they've made their way officially to to the racing sign up, but Allura does pause her steps to turn and face Lotor, to hold both his hands in hers now, looking very much appreciative and very much sweet, seeming like she's about to go into how amazing she thinks him to be---]

But...I will beat you in this race.

You were being rightfully cautious.

[ it's said at once, seemingly unbothered by it, though he stops when allura does, the tug on his hands bringing him to pause as she faces him. and he offers her a faint smile, at the words. there's a warmth in his chest, at how she looks at him, full of admiration. it's not something he receives, a lot -- despite being emperor of half the known galaxy, he knows that is not a beloved role. and it likely never will be a beloved role -- no, he has a lot of work, to undo what zarkon has done.

but allura is something that he never expected, in that journey. it's different. and he waits, patiently, for her to continue speaking, when -- ]

[ . . . a challenge.

there's a laugh that escapes at her comment, entertained at the thought (and the switch in demeanor, from her, honestly), before he inclines his head toward the entrance of the races. the whirr of the engines can be heard, by now, and he brings one of her hands to his lips, to kiss the back of it. ]

Of course.

[ an??? acquiescence??? an acceptance of defeat??? but as he gently tugs her along, to resume walking toward the entrance: ]

Your hopes are so high that it's going to make me feel guilty when I defeat you.

[ ;) ]

[She's being playful. Purely playful. Because there really is a certain comfort she finds with Lotor that she's not felt in quite some time, with someone who feels like they are something close to home, in a universe that still feels incredibly different in the wake of a despotic Emperor.

And being stuck in this current situation with him only fosters this feeling, in a way she hasn't had with the other paladins.

She laughs in turn, but it's cut short when he raises her hand, kisses it, and the warmth of him lingers hot and bold against her skin. It feels less an act of nobility, and more an act of something else...much like how it had been during the impromptu festival at the Temple.

She's blushing, lost in that feeling to where his gentle tug brings her back down to the here and now of whatever it is they are doing (racing, Allura, you're to race him).]

R-right. [She's back to lacing her fingers through his, still focusing on something else entirely that really, must have been an innocuous gesture of chivalrous respect and old habit between royalty. She sets that at the forefront of her thoughts, swallowing whatever feelings are beginning to settle at her heart, and her voice returns to a more confident cadence and less a young woman with flutter-bys trapped in her stomach.] Luckily, you will not have to feel such guilt.

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[closed] i wish we'd met before;

7/11 (the jump )

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7/16 (the confrontation)

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1/2

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