Maybe we want the same thing then, Doc. To keep getting better.
[ That's the last thing he says before actually departing from the truck, having listened to Angela carry on about hope. Not the schmaltzy stuff that can be put on a pedestal, aggrandized by politicians who do nothing. No, Eddie thinks instead of a desire to move forward despite the ugliness of what's come before, and what may come after. The recognition that we can only do our best, and that we must at least try. It puts a small smile on Eddie's face to hear Angela's words, but he doesn't quite know what to think of where they stand.
The symbiote has conformed to the shape of a black leather jacket around Eddie. He keeps his hands in his pockets as he follows Angela to her clinic, which has clearly seen better days. Not that Eddie was expecting much, of course. He knows a thing or two about being a fixer-upper... so he has little room to judge the place. Instead, he gives the structure a once-over before turning to regard the same view that's seized Angela's attention. Breathtaking, to be sure, but Eddie's never learned to sit still. Never really been the type to stop and smell the flowers, even before the symbiote entered his life. Maybe this is why he was a journalist and not a photographer, never one to truly consider what spectacle can do for a story. The lost history that Angela speaks of, though-- the dying local traditions, intrigue the journalist in Eddie. ]
Sounds to me like the world needs to be reminded of what this place once was.
If not for, well... everything, I could've published something on that. Revived interest in some of the local flavor.
[ He shrugs, though. This is more a passing fascination than a genuine investment. There's little reason, currently, for his heart to actually be in it. ]
But you heard it from Venom, didn't you? The way civilizations rise and fall. Cultures come and go, the minutiae lost to the sands of time.
There's so much that's passed that we'll simply never know, let alone know to look for. Makes me wonder if everything here will be a distant memory too, someday... if even that.
[ That's Eddie's little soliloquy for the day, happy to also hear that Angela could be worse. He's not expecting the Venom experience to be a five-star treatment, but he frets imagining just how much Angela might come to resent their bond. Eddie recalls a time long ago, when he lashed out at those who needed his help, people like him who were desperate to understand how they could communicate with their own symbiotes and use those powers for the greater good. But cruelly, Eddie dashed those hopes. He rejected them outright, fought them off and spat in their faces for even reaching out to him... just before watching them all kill each other.
But that's not who he is anymore. He thought he was doing something right by joining Talon, but that was just another error in judgment. If he hadn't saved Angela from the Juggernaut, the symbiote laboring to heal otherwise fatal injuries, Venom might've continued to drink Talon's kool-aid. They might have taken Venom and pointed him at the wrong targets, like he's no better than a glorified attack dog.
These thoughts swirl in Eddie's mind, in the symbiote's, and perhaps a feeling of dread lingers beneath the surface of Angela's own mind, as a result. Dread over bridges burned, regret for errors in judgment, and sorrow for pain inflicted. ]
I feel... like this is more than I deserve. Than my other deserves.
[ Though the place is more like a warehouse than a clinic, let alone a home... it's better than many of his past living situations by several thousand miles. Relative to his own experiences, this place is practically a luxury hotel. ]
I know we're your patient, and you have your obligation as a doctor, but... Angela.
no subject
[ That's the last thing he says before actually departing from the truck, having listened to Angela carry on about hope. Not the schmaltzy stuff that can be put on a pedestal, aggrandized by politicians who do nothing. No, Eddie thinks instead of a desire to move forward despite the ugliness of what's come before, and what may come after. The recognition that we can only do our best, and that we must at least try. It puts a small smile on Eddie's face to hear Angela's words, but he doesn't quite know what to think of where they stand.
The symbiote has conformed to the shape of a black leather jacket around Eddie. He keeps his hands in his pockets as he follows Angela to her clinic, which has clearly seen better days. Not that Eddie was expecting much, of course. He knows a thing or two about being a fixer-upper... so he has little room to judge the place. Instead, he gives the structure a once-over before turning to regard the same view that's seized Angela's attention. Breathtaking, to be sure, but Eddie's never learned to sit still. Never really been the type to stop and smell the flowers, even before the symbiote entered his life. Maybe this is why he was a journalist and not a photographer, never one to truly consider what spectacle can do for a story. The lost history that Angela speaks of, though-- the dying local traditions, intrigue the journalist in Eddie. ]
Sounds to me like the world needs to be reminded of what this place once was.
If not for, well... everything, I could've published something on that. Revived interest in some of the local flavor.
[ He shrugs, though. This is more a passing fascination than a genuine investment. There's little reason, currently, for his heart to actually be in it. ]
But you heard it from Venom, didn't you? The way civilizations rise and fall. Cultures come and go, the minutiae lost to the sands of time.
There's so much that's passed that we'll simply never know, let alone know to look for. Makes me wonder if everything here will be a distant memory too, someday... if even that.
[ That's Eddie's little soliloquy for the day, happy to also hear that Angela could be worse. He's not expecting the Venom experience to be a five-star treatment, but he frets imagining just how much Angela might come to resent their bond. Eddie recalls a time long ago, when he lashed out at those who needed his help, people like him who were desperate to understand how they could communicate with their own symbiotes and use those powers for the greater good. But cruelly, Eddie dashed those hopes. He rejected them outright, fought them off and spat in their faces for even reaching out to him... just before watching them all kill each other.
But that's not who he is anymore. He thought he was doing something right by joining Talon, but that was just another error in judgment. If he hadn't saved Angela from the Juggernaut, the symbiote laboring to heal otherwise fatal injuries, Venom might've continued to drink Talon's kool-aid. They might have taken Venom and pointed him at the wrong targets, like he's no better than a glorified attack dog.
These thoughts swirl in Eddie's mind, in the symbiote's, and perhaps a feeling of dread lingers beneath the surface of Angela's own mind, as a result. Dread over bridges burned, regret for errors in judgment, and sorrow for pain inflicted. ]
I feel... like this is more than I deserve. Than my other deserves.
[ Though the place is more like a warehouse than a clinic, let alone a home... it's better than many of his past living situations by several thousand miles. Relative to his own experiences, this place is practically a luxury hotel. ]
I know we're your patient, and you have your obligation as a doctor, but... Angela.
It's your prerogative what you do beyond that.
Seriously.