"Us being here, whatever brought us here in the first place - you may not mind it, but speaking for myself I'd rather like to be certain that when I leave it will be for good." Not if; when. "There are quite enough people in the old world yanking my kind out and into service. I'd like to be sure no one else gets any bright ideas."
Imagine that. As if one reality full of power hungry megalomaniacs weren't enough.
She's quiet for a moment, thinking that over. It's - it's a valid point, isn't it. The worst thing that could happen to this place would be the enslavement of spirits like Bartimaeus. It ruined her world; it would destroy this one utterly. But even so, that answer doesn't quite satisfy her.
"It wouldn't really help these people, though, would it," she says, tugging restlessly on her fingers. "Not really. If we're going to die - if we're going to disappear at any moment - then oughtn't we make this place better? Really think about the whole mess - not just what involves us?"
The boy - for he is kn his way to being that again, the ragged and rail thin bag of dessicated bones dripping from his likeness as a layers of varnish flakes away - narrows his eyes at her. In the great lexicon of sideways looks that he's leveled, this one is very sidelong indeed. There might even be a frankness to it which could almost be called honesty.
"What?" The question startles her enough that she actually looks over at Bartimaeus - which is definitely a mistake, because the half-person half-monster look is really utterly dreadful. "Ugh," she says involuntarily, and looks away again.
Then - "Don't be ridiculous. This place is awful. Everyone's constantly kicking everyone else around and abusing them and hurting them, and it's not even mage-versus-commoner here, it's - that, and also elf-versus-human, and noble-versus-commoner, and so on and so on. A hundred more levels of awfulness and abuse and cruelty even beyond what we know."
And yet. She could end there, but something in her, some little spark of dreadful honesty, pushes her to admit - "People...do rather care what I have to say here, though. A bit."
--It is not, in immediate retrospect, really an ah-ha moment. Not yet anyway. After all, is there any word Kitty Jones loves more than 'care'? He can't think of one. Yet it feels like a kind of victory - some kind of point on the verge of being proven or an inch of hold he doesn't quite yet know how to leverage. But there is a gap there and he senses it deserves investigation.
"Reaaaally. I take it that you're enjoying the novelty. I know I would."
"Don't say that like - that," she mutters, because there's something she quite dislikes about his tone. Something dreadfully smug, when, what's there even to be smug about. "What I'm enjoying is the knowledge that I've actually got the ability to fight for things here. Back home, we stood about in Mr Pennyfeather's art shop and snarled at one another and got greedy. Here - Here, I've actually helped people. Saved people."
She feels horribly, dreadfully self-conscious, just then, and looks down at her feet as they scuff at the floor. You sound so stupid, Kitty. "So that matters."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-09-04 09:18 pm (UTC)Imagine that. As if one reality full of power hungry megalomaniacs weren't enough.
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Date: 2019-09-05 02:11 am (UTC)"It wouldn't really help these people, though, would it," she says, tugging restlessly on her fingers. "Not really. If we're going to die - if we're going to disappear at any moment - then oughtn't we make this place better? Really think about the whole mess - not just what involves us?"
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Date: 2019-09-24 12:21 am (UTC)It is, at the very least, honest suspicion.
"You prefer this place, don't you?"
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Date: 2019-09-24 08:31 am (UTC)Then - "Don't be ridiculous. This place is awful. Everyone's constantly kicking everyone else around and abusing them and hurting them, and it's not even mage-versus-commoner here, it's - that, and also elf-versus-human, and noble-versus-commoner, and so on and so on. A hundred more levels of awfulness and abuse and cruelty even beyond what we know."
And yet. She could end there, but something in her, some little spark of dreadful honesty, pushes her to admit - "People...do rather care what I have to say here, though. A bit."
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Date: 2019-09-25 01:07 am (UTC)--It is not, in immediate retrospect, really an ah-ha moment. Not yet anyway. After all, is there any word Kitty Jones loves more than 'care'? He can't think of one. Yet it feels like a kind of victory - some kind of point on the verge of being proven or an inch of hold he doesn't quite yet know how to leverage. But there is a gap there and he senses it deserves investigation.
"Reaaaally. I take it that you're enjoying the novelty. I know I would."
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Date: 2019-09-25 01:14 am (UTC)She feels horribly, dreadfully self-conscious, just then, and looks down at her feet as they scuff at the floor. You sound so stupid, Kitty. "So that matters."