gotgreenmagic | 29. Revolution!

[OOC: Most Inmates will have gotten a hard copy of this! Shego started at Level 1 and gets caught on Level 6, so - sorry all you 7 and 8ers.

Edit - these are delivered anonymously, which is the point of using paper copies, so use this post as a springboard for reactions/discussions if you like. c: Shego's going to be staying out of it since.......welp she's not going to be up to much after this.]

A Manifesto for the Revolution, and the Ongoing and Glorious Battle for Liberty.

We believe in one front line. Though our names and natures are diverse, we believe that the inmates of the Barge are united by discourse, by our struggle against the oppression of the Wardens and the Barge, and by our singular desire in freedom, peace, and change.

We believe that right makes might. That compromising with our enemies can only dilute our ideals and harm the resistance! We believe that the qualities our Wardens are trying to erode in us are intrinsic and indomitable, and that nothing can be taken from us that we do not allow them to take. It is the single most important belief of the resistance that these qualities are worth protecting and preserving above all else, and that they can never be destroyed completely, no matter how they are beaten down.

We believe that while we want peace and equality for all, in the current climate it would be impossibly naive to imagine we could achieve our ends without bloodshed and sacrifice. Change will not come here from a negotiation, but from a fight, and when that time comes we must face the lightning without fear of our bodily destruction, and without mercy for those who will not rest while the dream of freedom is alive in the hearts of men.

We believe in a new day. After all battles are fought, and all oppression is overcome, one day, we will be delivered to a beautiful new era, we will find a better life, a better place, and a better way of being than the one we have right now. Brothers, Sisters, I believe that there is a place for hope! That there is a place for change! That there has to be something better than this out there.

And that if there is no place like that? It is our place, to create one.

[Spam]

Between them, the Inmates who'd long since decided enough was enough had worked out which cabins were the Inmates' and which were to not to be delivered inflammatory literature at any cost. She had that list in one hand, although most of it was memorised, and a stack of Prefect's manifestos in the other as she moved along Level 6 quickly, tucking the slips of paper under doors and through cracks.

She comforted herself with the knowledge that knocking out Kirk the previous night was just about as much trouble as she was going to get in. Passing out leaflets - what was gonna happen?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She had thought she could block out the pain to extent - she had experience, after all - but this was new and raw and inescapable. Her parents being tortured, her brothers torn apart, because she wasn't there to help them anymore. Captain Swing, Prefect, Major West, Hayley - Mozenrath, giving up, giving in, hurting them -

She tried to scream and it came out in a sick, bloodied gurgle of sound. The tears stung on the red flesh of her cheeks.

"Stop - !"

Michael cradled her closer, like she was a child. "Then tell me, tell me or it will continue and diversify until you are so lost within your skull no one will be able to rely on you for anything."

Edited 2010-01-10 01:23 (UTC)

"Stop." She was barely audible, whimpering. "S-stop..."

Her head lolled from one side to the other. She could kill herself. She would kill herself, or Kirk would kill her, and when he revived her then she'd be back to herself. Better that than live with these things crawling in her head - better that than give up the others, she had principles, she wouldn't -

"I won't. I won't."

He was still an angel and he couldn't kill anyone outright and he couldn't force him to tell her, free-will. So he pulled her by her hair closer, a tendril falling from his hand after he yanked a little too hard.

He healed her forcibly, quickly, and somewhat searingly.

It hadn't occurred to her that the act of healing could hurt, but there it was - her collarbone snapping back into place, ligaments drawing tight together, the infection in her lungs burning away. She could feel the fresh skin rising from under the burnt mess of her cheeks.

Panting, weak, she curled into a foetal position on her knees.

Michael put a hand to her head and silently left her with a memory she couldn't undo, or ignore. Something she would doubt but never able to accurately claim wasn't real.

Afterward he all but crawled over her, dropping his chin beside her ear and whispering almost intimately beside her lobe.

"Go clean yourself up."