Lemons

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn kept that smile as she settled back down. It felt...weird. It felt weird, and off, and not quite real, like it was more part of a mask than it was her real face. But, she knew, she needed to keep that mask on in front of the camera. This was important. The Board was already upset with her, she just knew it. She didn't even want to think about what they'd do if she messed up her first ever interview. So she needed to try really, really hard.

Of course, it wasn't entirely an artifice, and it grew even less so as she took a bite of that salmon that she loved so much. She closed her eye rapturously for a few seconds as the flavors exploded in her mouth, and it took all of her self control to not destroy half of it in two bites. "You know," she said offhandedly, "they've got yuzu soda up there. I don't really know what a yuzu is, but it goes super good with the salmon!"

A moment more of chewing and then another question came at her. She couldn't help it; she laughed a little at how unexpected it was. Not the kind of laugh that she'd affect if she'd had the choice; it was underscored with tension, with the same worry and pain that tended to lie beneath her voice most of the time. She cut herself off quickly, hoping it wasn't too obvious. Still, what a question. She'd expected a bunch of questions, but never one about the hair. So she took another bite, looking up at the ceiling as she thought.

"You know, I've...never actually thought about it." She reached around behind her head and tapped on the topmost plug. "I need to pull it out of the way so I can plug myself in, so I usually just..." She picked up the braid and lifted it over her head a few inches before it fell backwards again, "Pull it up so it falls over the back of the chair like this." Leaning back, she made a show of thinking before going on. "But I guess it must flop around when I'm connected, huh?"

She laughed again. This time she covered all the messy stuff up. People didn't want to hear that. It sounded a little strained, but nobody would notice, right? "Guess it's lucky that it's never come undone up there, huh? It'd get everywhere!"

Amygdala Circuit

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. More than three this time; just 'however many she could fit before the clock ticked down.' Deep breaths. Bury what was left of the panic so deep down it couldn't find her. Quinn was glad Besca was there. Mona was nice, she really was, but this place was still so foreign to her. Besca was like a grounding wire, keeping her from spinning out of control.

She really wanted to start eating. Desperately. Chef Akihiro had come all the way down her to make this for her, and wow if it didn't look and smell just as good as always. But she restrained herself; it seemed like eating before the show started wouldn't be a good idea. And she really, really didn't want Mona to be angry with her.

As the beep of the camera sounded, Quinn jerked slightly, taken aback. Oh wow. It was starting. She was...she was on TV! Some of that anxiety leaked out of her, and it was replaced with a kind of nervous energy. She smiled a lopsided smile as she looked at the big center camera that Mona had gestured to. She'd never talked in front of a camera before. So she took one more deep breath, reminded herself that Besca was right there cheering her on, and waved like Mona had, trying as hard as she possibly could to draw out that cheer that she'd lost.

She could already feel that nervous energy and anxiety balling up in her stomach like a chunk of lead, but she kept the enthusiasm on as best she could. So many people were watching, and Deelie was definitely watching, and Doctor Follen was probably watching too. So, pulling up everything she had, she let her voice go.

"Hey, I'm Quinnlash Loughvein, buuuut you can just call me Quinn! I'm the brand new pilot for RISC, and I'm super excited to be here!"

She was almost surprised at how...happy she sounded, and how natural it all seemed to feel, despite being so alien an experience.

Was this what she'd been like before?

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn sat back, silently proud of herself for actually telling a joke, and having it actually work as a joke. She nodded slightly as Mona quietly mentioned Hovvi again, how she wasn't going to talk about it, and said a quick thank you.

And then there it was. The things not to talk about. She did her best to gather everything in her that was brave, everything in her that was Roaki and Dahlia and Besca, everything that wanted to say, don't talk about my family. But...she wasn't Roaki. She wasn't Dahlia. And she definitely wasn't Besca. The words died in her throat before they could even be born.

"I—" The smile blew out like a candle in a sudden squall. "I don't—" It was hard to get the thought out. It was so hard to get it out.

It was impossible to get it out.

Without really knowing it, she grew quieter, withdrew slightly. And no matter how she tried...it just wouldn't come. So eventually, she just mumbled out, "N...no. Nothing."

Calm down. Calm down. Three deep breaths. The intense self-loathing receded some, hiding underneath the floorboards, and she managed to relight the candle and force the smile back on her face. The breathing always seemed to work. Still, only five minutes. It felt at once much, much longer, and like no time at all, and her nerves were already fraying. She let her eye flicker sideways, searching for Besca. It seemed that she hadn't come out of the kitchen yet. Still figuring out everything with the chef.

At the thought, the smile's hard edges softened and it felt a little more natural again, though it was quite a bit more subdued than it had been before. And as soon as Mona spoke again, she latched onto the new idea and did her best to forget about her...her par—about her last thoughts.

"It's really, really good. And I ate it right before the duel, so now it's lucky too."

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn hadn't realized how thirsty she was until she took a long drink of the clear, cold water. God, but it was still so good. She didn't know if she'd ever fully get used to it, but she got the feeling that she took a lot more pleasure out of just water than most people did. And so, "Just water is fine, thanks!"

She was still stuck on the 'fans' thing. She supposed it made sense, really; Dahlia was such a household name that she'd even heard of her back in her—back in the room she grew up in, and she was well aware by now how many unwritten rules she'd broken by not pulling that final trigger. It stood to reason that she would have people who followed her because of that. But still, it was intimidating somehow. Like suddenly her every move was going to be watched. And she didn't know how much she wanted the whole world to see her breaking down like at lunch today.

As Mona went on, Quinn tensed visibly and reflexively at the mention of Hovvi. Her smile trembled briefly and threatened to break, but she managed to keep it on her face.

"It was..." She swallowed down the lump that was starting to form in her throat, taking a deep breath. "S—sorry. It was really, really different for sure." True enough, even if it probably wasn't for the reasons that Mona assumed it was. Her smile came back renewed as she continued, voice lowering suddenly to a conspiratorial stage whisper as she found her footing a little better, "Just between you and me, I'm pretty sure the Board speeds the clocks up at night so we're as tired as possible."

She could count on two hands the number of sincere jokes she'd ever made. Hopefully that one would land.

Amygdala Circuit

As they descended past the pastel trees, Quinn suddenly took note of the crowd. Tons of people, cheering, taking photos, waving signs with her Savior printed on them. It was very strange. Not unpleasant, really, but certainly disorienting. She hadn't been outside around normal people other than Hovvi, and even then, she'd been mostly invisible in the crowd. Not so here; here, all eyes were on her. The enthusiasm was almost infectious.

She took a deep breath, and as she walked with Besca towards the entrance of the building, she lifted her hand in a cheerful wave. The noise of the crowd swelled as she did. It was almost deafening, and she found her normally solemn face curving into the start of a smile, though there was certainly an element of faraway blankness on her face. It was nice, but also weird.

As much as she liked being around people to some extent, though, having so many looking at her was still just a little uncomfortable. The people on the Aerie hadn't prepared her for anything like this, not at all. So she breathed a sigh of relief as soon as they walked into the hall. People were still looking at her, but they were also going about their normal business, not stopping to cheer for her. It was a little bit more what she was used to. It was nice.

Plus, the head chef was there. And she had a hunch she knew what he was cooking. She really could eat it all week and never get tired of it. There was just something so—

"Oh my gawsh!"

A moment later, she was swept up by Hurricane Mona. Despite herself, she found that fragment of a smile growing to—well, it was small and faint, but it was still a real smile, and she almost unconsciously ran a hand down her braid.

"You've probably heard this a lot recently but I am a huge fan!"

And there was the word. As Mona beckoned her to sit down, she followed suit, taking a seat opposite her and watching as the world went on for a moment more before looking back at her. That elsewhere look in her eyes faded as she, nearly stupefied but still wearing that little smile, softly asked the question that had been on her mind since she'd walked off the elevator outside:

"I have fans?"

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn had only ever ridden the elevator when she was on Ablaze. The only thing she'd ever seen was the cold darkness of the cockpit, and the only reason she'd ever gone to begin with was training, again and again and again.

So she was completely unprepared as the elevator platform dropped down beneath the rim of the Aerie, and the hardlight sheath opened up around them. For just a moment, she was looking through the window of the house by the lake again, and she leaned over the railing, holding out her hand, barely a foot left between her fingers and the channel, almost like should could touch the spreading colors and twirling leaves. "Woooowwwww..."

A moment passed and she regained her balance, eye glimmering as she stared out at the world that was arrayed beneath her. Another unfamiliar feelings flowed through her. She'd been afraid of so much, and for so long, that she'd almost forgotten the feeling that she'd only really felt on one warm afternoon, almost two months ago now. She was nervous, yes. She was nervous, scared, worried. But...

What I'm helping protect...

Descending into the whirlwind of pastel colors as autumn took hold, she felt the heady rush of excitement as well. The flowing, swirling, erupting colors bloomed beneath her, almost like...like...

She hugged Besca tight, and felt a warm tear roll down her cheek as she did. And there were some tears in her voice, it was true. But despite that, it was more than evident that she was undeniably, irrefutably, and deeply happy. "They're like fireworks, Besca."

Amygdala Circuit

As she deftly twisted her hair into the long plait that it had become so known for on the Aerie, Quinn almost started crying again.

But it was a different kind of 'crying' than before.

Besca and Dahlia. Her family. They were so nice to her. So, so nice. She had never imagined that anybody could be like this before. Never, in all her wildest dreams and fantasies. They helped her when she was at her absolute worst. No matter what she did, how she messed up, they were still always there to help pick her up when she fell. They made her smile. Dahlia had even made her laugh. They were the best family anybody could ever ask for, anywhere.

And for one delicious, impossible moment, Quinn let herself believe she deserved it.

She was quiet as she finished the braid, bringing it around the front to check it before she snapped the elastic on the end to tie it off. Satisfied, she flicked it behind again, settling it against the jacket until everything sat comfortably. The nerves were still tearing at her. Anxiety was still bubbling deep inside her and setting her heart pounding. But Besca would be there. And she and Dahlia were both proud of Quinn. She would pin it to her chest and wear it like a badge if she could.

You're one of the most important people in the world to me.

"Um...Besca?"

She took three long, deep breath. One. Two. Three. Then she stood, moved to the door to wait, and turned, looking at Besca as she plucked her coat from the counter. And she put a smile on her face.

It took so, so much effort. It was fragile. It trembled as she tried not to cry. But it was still a smile. And it was still there.

"You're, um, really important to me too." She paused. "And...thank you. For...you know."

Amygdala Circuit

Quinn lay there for a few moments more, staring at the open door, as what had happened at CB Dane's played back through her head. She cringed as though she could cringe away from herself. With the benefit of hindsight and the comfort from her dream, no longer trapped in her own head as it careened out of control, she could vividly hear the pain in Dahlia's voice. And replaying the conversation, if you could call it that—or what was left of it in her mind—through her head, she could see why. She would need to apologize to her later on. It must have been horrible.

But she needed to make it through the daunting task that had been set out in front of her before she even thought about talking to Deelie. They weren't letting her come down to the studio, and they wouldn't have time to talk beforehand even if she saw her before going down the elevator.

Nerves dug fishhooks into her skin as she levered herself out of bed, shucked off the clothing that she'd fallen asleep in, got dressed in the new stuff that Besca had gotten her. She latched on to the jacket to distract herself from the nerves. With the dark gray and yellow, it was just like her hair. She liked it a lot, actually. She'd definitely keep wearing it after today.

Speaking of her hair, she really did need to rebraid it. As she finished dressing herself and zipped the jacket up, she grabbed a hairbrush from her nightstand, plucked the elastic from the end, and started unpicking the braid, brushing down it as she did. Shoving the door open—those few inches really did make all the difference, didn't they?—she walked out into the common room, still brushing, wincing here and there as she caught a knot that she worked out.

A moment later, she held the brush out to Besca, picking up a strand of her now loose hair and fiddling with it. She never really got used to it, and she thought it was kind of funny how strange it felt to have her braid undone. She'd do it up herself fine, it wasn't like she didn't know how to braid her own hair. Learning how was one of the only things she had to do for sixteen years straight. But...

Her voice started raspy with sleep and the remnants of tears. "Can you brush out the parts by my legs? It'd take me a long time to do it myself."

By the time she went quiet again, though, it had smoothed out enough to resemble what she usually sounded like.

Amygdala Circuit

In the midst of a breakdown enough to eclipse nearly anything else inside her, Quinn was suddenly given direction.

"We should go. Back to the dorms, or the gardens. Somewhere else. Somewhere quiet. This...this isn't good for you."

There was something so intensely pathetic about how comforting it felt, how natural it seemed, to be told what to do. She hated it. She hated it so much, she knew that she should hate it. But in that moment, there was something so normal about it, so soothing. Like a deep breath after surfacing from the bottom of the well. She hated it. She hated it more than anything.

She loved it anyway.

So, lost and confused and head full of thunder, she latched on.

Dahlia was right. It was loud in here. Or maybe not loud, so much as overwhelming. Crowded and busy and people were staring at them. With a great deal of effort, she hauled her head up from where it sat, doing her best to wipe the tears off even as they kept flowing.

"Dorms," she somehow whimpered and whispered at the same time, squeezing her sister's hand a little harder. "Let's go back to the dorms." She was still shaking, but she managed to keep her eye open now, and she thought that maybe her legs had steadied themselves enough for her to walk now, at least enough to get back to her room. "I want to lie down for a while."

Amygdala Circuit

It felt like there was a storm cloud in Quinn's head.

Thunder and lightning and rain and wind all mixed together into a howling cacophony that rushed through the rest of her too, locking her in place like she was paralyzed. Like she was chained down in front of an oncoming train that knew she was there and didn't stop. Like she was at the bottom of a deep, dark well and floundering desperately as she slowly, surely sank below the surface. It made it hard, so hard, nigh-impossible, to think. To articulate ideas, not just to Dahlia, but even to herself. And each individual word that Dahlia said to her was like a pebble dropped into the well. They echoed down to her as though from a great distance. A faint plop, plop, plop, as she sank further, barely even audible above the deafening thunderclaps inside her.

Broken, broken, broken.

But that wasn't right, was it? She wasn't broken. Not really. Being broken meant that something had been there before to break. She was like—she was like a puppet. She wasn't putting herself together from shattered pieces. She was trying—trying, failing, succeeding, failing, trying again—not to fix herself, but to make an entirely new thing out of whole cloth. Figuring out who and what she really was past the layers and layers and layers of trauma and pain.

Who was she?

She didn't know.

She wanted so much to hug Dahlia. But her legs had turned completely to jelly, and a part of her knew that if she tried to get up to move to the other side of the booth she'd crumple before she even made it halfway. So instead she squeezed Dahlia's hand in the one that she'd taken and gently laid her head on the table, staring with nigh-unseeing eye out at the virtually actualized beach.

When she spoke her voice was weak and weepy and hard to understand through the still-flowing tears, but that utter defeat still filled it. She clamped her eye shut. "They—they d—didn't take anything f—from me. I'm...I'm just a d—doll."