Socratic dialogue with a mouse
Apr. 3rd, 2009 09:46 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annwfyn.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
zg_shadowsThis is a really old Tegan piece that I never posted up. It was written around the time Tegan was involved with Max Shrier (in a slightly dubiously semi-consensual fashion) and I think was vaguely seeing MSR, but was mostly in one of their 'off periods'.
I post it here mostly because I thought the 'talking to a mouse she was making' was cute, quite illustrative of how her mind works, and is probably how she creates her small and odd little beasties using sphere magic now.
I don't think this has gone up here before. If it has, I do apologise.
Talking to mouses
"You're not happy," the mouse said, which was unusual because small grey felt toys don't normally talk.
Megan wrinkled her nose at the mouse, and carefully added another black pipe cleaner whisker to its face.
"No," she said. "But that isn't really something that will be solved by dwelling on it, will it?"
"It won't be solved by avoiding all the issues, either," the mouse pointed out hopefully.
Meg frowned. "Since when did small felt mice - which, by the way, had no shape or form until I made you - have views on problem resolution?"
The mouse wrinkled its small cotton nose.
"You made me with an inquisitive face," it said. "You clearly wanted someone to ask you questions."
Meg tilted her head and contemplated this statement.
"I think you're right," she said. The mouse looked smug.
"I thought I was right as well," it said. "Anyway, away from the philosophical implications of where I'm getting all this psychological training from, you aren't really dealing with any of the things that are making you unhappy, are you?"
Meg shrugged.
"I can't," she said. "I can't stop mysterious chimera from...from hurting me. I don't even know where they came from, or if they will reappear. I don't know why they turned up, and I don't know where to start looking.
"For a long time I felt awful about what was happening with Max. It just seemed to happen, and I didn't know what feelings were my own anymore, and what were just...illusions.
"I think I've dealt with that now, except I haven't quite dealt with whatever is going on between Max and the Garou..."
"Yes," said the mouse. "I've noticed you acting like an ostrich about that."
Meg pulled her knees up to her chest.
"What can I do?" she asked.
"Well, what do you want to do?" the mouse enquired helpfully.
"I don't know," Meg said. "Not exist. Just vanish. Vanish from both of their worlds, because I don't quite belong in either, but as long as I'm around I keep getting tangled up."
"That's a complete abdication of responsibility," the mouse said, and Meg frowned, and stabbed the next pipe cleaner whisker into the mouse's face with maybe a little more force than she needed to.
"Ouch," said the mouse.
"I'm sorry," Meg said, and chewed on her lip. "It's like this," she said at length. "My Da was Garou. I remember that. I remember watching him shift."
She sighed and added the last little whisker to the mouse's inquisitive face. "I remember him being cast out - declared Ronin. I remember how that ripped him apart. He hated the Nation after that. He hated their rules, the way they demand that you think and feel a certain way, the way they want to own your soul. But he still wanted to be a part of it. I think he felt that way until he died.
"And I think I've got that in me as well.
"Then there was my mother, and even more so, my grandmother. After Dad died, my mother and I went to stay with my grandmother. She was this beautiful, graceful old lady. I don't know what other people saw, but I always saw the pointed ears, and the way her hair wasn't grey - it looked like moulten silver instead. She used to give me the most amazing presents, and she'd always explain how I had to pay her back for them first. She understood geasa, and magic, and how important it was to dream.
"I've got that in me as well."
Meg sighed.
"But I don't quite fit in either world. I don't think the Garou are totally, unmistakably, overwhelming right in all that they do. I don't think they've been given this perfect ability to tell right from wrong, and this inalienable right to kill whatever they think is wrong. I think they can be violent, thoughtless, and controlling. I hate the fact as well that as long as I live in the Garou world, I belong to someone. No matter how nice or benevolent that person is, they still own me - to speak for me, make my decisions for me, treat me like a child.
"I think the Fae are beautiful, but I think they can be heartless, cold, and detached from everything real. Their dreams are incredible, but they are too strong. They surround you, like some kind of fog, and after a while you can't see anything but the fog, and I hate that."
The mouse nodded.
"I can see your problem. So, why haven't you left?"
Meg pondered.
"Because the Commune needs me. Because Petra has never been anything other than decent to me, and because she and Jamie are doing more good here than I've ever seen before."
She pondered some more.
"Because I quite like Michael. He's sweet, and I love his smile, and I've never had anyone treat me the way he does before. I don't want to lose that.
"I should really just step away from Max, but he's the only link I've got to that world, and I feel sick at the thought of just being cut off from that."
Meg sighed.
"And I don't think Max will step away from me as long as I'm wandering around London right now."
"Then," the mouse said. "You have a problem. Have you tried talking to either Michael or Max about this?"
Meg shook her head.
"I don't want to talk to Michael about these things. The last time we did..." and she paused for a moment, before settling on the phrase "it went wrong."
The mouse quirked his head curiously at Meg.
"So, you and Michael never really sorted out the problems that broke you up last time?"
Meg shook her head.
"There's nothing we can sort out. He's the Garou Alpha of the London Sept. I can't change that. I couldn't change it with Fergal. I can't change it now. I either accept that, or I leave..."
She sighed, and stroked the mouse's head.
"You need bigger ears for listening," she said. "Made with bright pink felt inside."
"I don't feel like a bright pink kind of mouse," the mouse said. "I think purple would work better."
"But mice don't have purple insides to their ears," Meg protested mildly. The mouse raised a tiny thread of cotton which served as an eyebrow.
"Most mice don't enable their owner in engaging in socratic dialogue either," it said, and Meg smiled.
"OK. You win," she said, and reached into her bag of cloth and patches.
I post it here mostly because I thought the 'talking to a mouse she was making' was cute, quite illustrative of how her mind works, and is probably how she creates her small and odd little beasties using sphere magic now.
I don't think this has gone up here before. If it has, I do apologise.
Talking to mouses
"You're not happy," the mouse said, which was unusual because small grey felt toys don't normally talk.
Megan wrinkled her nose at the mouse, and carefully added another black pipe cleaner whisker to its face.
"No," she said. "But that isn't really something that will be solved by dwelling on it, will it?"
"It won't be solved by avoiding all the issues, either," the mouse pointed out hopefully.
Meg frowned. "Since when did small felt mice - which, by the way, had no shape or form until I made you - have views on problem resolution?"
The mouse wrinkled its small cotton nose.
"You made me with an inquisitive face," it said. "You clearly wanted someone to ask you questions."
Meg tilted her head and contemplated this statement.
"I think you're right," she said. The mouse looked smug.
"I thought I was right as well," it said. "Anyway, away from the philosophical implications of where I'm getting all this psychological training from, you aren't really dealing with any of the things that are making you unhappy, are you?"
Meg shrugged.
"I can't," she said. "I can't stop mysterious chimera from...from hurting me. I don't even know where they came from, or if they will reappear. I don't know why they turned up, and I don't know where to start looking.
"For a long time I felt awful about what was happening with Max. It just seemed to happen, and I didn't know what feelings were my own anymore, and what were just...illusions.
"I think I've dealt with that now, except I haven't quite dealt with whatever is going on between Max and the Garou..."
"Yes," said the mouse. "I've noticed you acting like an ostrich about that."
Meg pulled her knees up to her chest.
"What can I do?" she asked.
"Well, what do you want to do?" the mouse enquired helpfully.
"I don't know," Meg said. "Not exist. Just vanish. Vanish from both of their worlds, because I don't quite belong in either, but as long as I'm around I keep getting tangled up."
"That's a complete abdication of responsibility," the mouse said, and Meg frowned, and stabbed the next pipe cleaner whisker into the mouse's face with maybe a little more force than she needed to.
"Ouch," said the mouse.
"I'm sorry," Meg said, and chewed on her lip. "It's like this," she said at length. "My Da was Garou. I remember that. I remember watching him shift."
She sighed and added the last little whisker to the mouse's inquisitive face. "I remember him being cast out - declared Ronin. I remember how that ripped him apart. He hated the Nation after that. He hated their rules, the way they demand that you think and feel a certain way, the way they want to own your soul. But he still wanted to be a part of it. I think he felt that way until he died.
"And I think I've got that in me as well.
"Then there was my mother, and even more so, my grandmother. After Dad died, my mother and I went to stay with my grandmother. She was this beautiful, graceful old lady. I don't know what other people saw, but I always saw the pointed ears, and the way her hair wasn't grey - it looked like moulten silver instead. She used to give me the most amazing presents, and she'd always explain how I had to pay her back for them first. She understood geasa, and magic, and how important it was to dream.
"I've got that in me as well."
Meg sighed.
"But I don't quite fit in either world. I don't think the Garou are totally, unmistakably, overwhelming right in all that they do. I don't think they've been given this perfect ability to tell right from wrong, and this inalienable right to kill whatever they think is wrong. I think they can be violent, thoughtless, and controlling. I hate the fact as well that as long as I live in the Garou world, I belong to someone. No matter how nice or benevolent that person is, they still own me - to speak for me, make my decisions for me, treat me like a child.
"I think the Fae are beautiful, but I think they can be heartless, cold, and detached from everything real. Their dreams are incredible, but they are too strong. They surround you, like some kind of fog, and after a while you can't see anything but the fog, and I hate that."
The mouse nodded.
"I can see your problem. So, why haven't you left?"
Meg pondered.
"Because the Commune needs me. Because Petra has never been anything other than decent to me, and because she and Jamie are doing more good here than I've ever seen before."
She pondered some more.
"Because I quite like Michael. He's sweet, and I love his smile, and I've never had anyone treat me the way he does before. I don't want to lose that.
"I should really just step away from Max, but he's the only link I've got to that world, and I feel sick at the thought of just being cut off from that."
Meg sighed.
"And I don't think Max will step away from me as long as I'm wandering around London right now."
"Then," the mouse said. "You have a problem. Have you tried talking to either Michael or Max about this?"
Meg shook her head.
"I don't want to talk to Michael about these things. The last time we did..." and she paused for a moment, before settling on the phrase "it went wrong."
The mouse quirked his head curiously at Meg.
"So, you and Michael never really sorted out the problems that broke you up last time?"
Meg shook her head.
"There's nothing we can sort out. He's the Garou Alpha of the London Sept. I can't change that. I couldn't change it with Fergal. I can't change it now. I either accept that, or I leave..."
She sighed, and stroked the mouse's head.
"You need bigger ears for listening," she said. "Made with bright pink felt inside."
"I don't feel like a bright pink kind of mouse," the mouse said. "I think purple would work better."
"But mice don't have purple insides to their ears," Meg protested mildly. The mouse raised a tiny thread of cotton which served as an eyebrow.
"Most mice don't enable their owner in engaging in socratic dialogue either," it said, and Meg smiled.
"OK. You win," she said, and reached into her bag of cloth and patches.
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Date: 2009-04-03 09:40 am (UTC)The only thing I didn't get about this story was how a figment of Tegan's imagination knows about socratic dialogue...
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Date: 2009-04-03 09:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-04-03 10:07 am (UTC)<snf> I still miss her...