Here I had a whole speech ready about your prettiness, and now it's gone to waste. [ She giggles, just in case it's bad enough that he can't catch the joke. ]
I feel like that sometimes. My past is so awful and the way I talk about myself is so awful for people to hear that they feel like they have to defend me from myself, and it's exhausting. I can't just be myself because it's letting them down.
[ okay, that gets him to crack a smile. tiny, but there. ]
There I go, being the worst... To think you had a speech planned.
[ he tightens his grip a little, a squeeze. progress! and hopefully enough to show he's messing around with her, too. ]
No, that's... more or less it. Speak honestly, people don't like to hear it. Hide it, people wonder why. Show them why, and... maybe they'll lecture you about why you should forget all that now. As if it doesn't impact the way you think or act.
That's just it. I can't just throw it away because others think I should or think it's ugly. Those memories, that existence - they're mine.
[ Messing is appreciated, even when they're talking about Serious Stuff. Which is why she appreciates his dark and morbid humor, it's just how you cope sometimes. ]
Tell me about it. If I had ten points for every time someone tried to tell me that I can be whoever I want to be here, just ignore my past and my memories, I'd have enough for a fifty room suite by now. I can't just shrug and pretend it doesn't matter. It's still me. And --
[ She hadn't really put it together like this before now, but ] And when they put it like that, it sure sounds a lot like saying they'd like me better if I could just please be someone different. Someone easier.
Just ignoring it feels - it feels like running, and disrespecting anyone who mattered in those memories.
[ not the people who sought to harm them, either of them, but anyone they'd ever had any affection for. people that were lost. battles fought, won, lost. ] And it feels like lying. "Don't worry, I don't even know who that person was, I've got a whole new lease on life, I'll just stop doing those things that you'd rather not hear about anymore."
[ frustrating, if his clipped sigh is anything to go off. and then, not for the first time (far from it), she speaks to a thought that had occurred to him, too. ]
... It does sound like it sometimes, doesn't it? I've thought more than once that I was better before I knew anything about myself. Weaker, scared. Less complicated, and easier to handle. And ... maybe, if I could erase all my memories again, people would be happy to finally be rid of all that ugliness and go back to trying to protect and pamper me. For that to work, I would have to remove that drive to want to get 'me' back, and that uneasiness at being pampered, so more than memories, it'd have to be a complete destruction of core personality traits...
...
I think about this a lot.
...
But I like you. [ sometimes things are complicated. this part is not. ]
[ Of course she's glad that Kitsu liking her isn't as murky as the rest of it all, if she can be a safe harbor in whatever typhoon they've landed in then she's extremely glad of it -- however, those last few things he says have her distracted to the point where she barely even hears him say he likes her, let alone being able to process it and respond. She actually stops walking for a second before the rest of her catches up. ]
Uh -- sorry. I get what you mean a little too well.
In that bar game I got a memory; being here isn't the first time I've had amnesia. It probably isn't the second time or the third time, either. My species seems to -- hibernate? When I wake up I have no memories, no real personality, just instinct. So...
[ Yeah, a little close to home. ]
I understand what you mean about wondering. [ If someone she knew before, maybe liked or loved, showed up here, would they find her an entirely different and distasteful person? If she falls into hibernation again, will anyone she knows here wait for her? Mourn her? Will they hate who she becomes next or manipulate her while she's vulnerable, mold her to their liking? None of these questions are comforting. ]
[ he notes the change, internally kicking himself for having given the thought his voice in the first place. when she stops, he does too, reaching over to steady the hot drink in her hand - not that she needs him for it, but it's as good an excuse as any to give her a fuller embrace. the bag of goodies might be a little awkward in transit, but it's workable and so utterly minor. ]
I - should know by now that if I've considered it or felt it, you probably have, too.
[ the safe harbor of understanding someone is equal parts reassuring and painful. ]
Do you still want to do this? [ and the quiet part: sorry if me being this way took the happiness out of it. ]
[ She'll take a hug, of course she will, and gladly so. She realizes it's likely purely selfless on his part and she wishes she were a good enough person to feel the same, but at least half of it is wholly selfish. Still, what he's said is true enough, and being of one mind on so many things, much of it painful, nothing she does with him can be just for herself. ]
Don't feel bad. Hearing that, it helps. Not being alone helps. [ She hopes it helps him too, but doesn't dare say it. She doesn't want to make him answer. ]
[ After a moment she pulls back enough to smile at him and brush some of the hair back from his face, as he's done for her so many times. She's not faking it either, she wouldn't do that to him. ]
I still want to. Nothing about our past or the mess we're in is going to change, so I figure the only thing we can do is find a way to smile. Out of sheer spite, if necessary. [ Because, as they have so often expressed, fuck this place. And some of the people in it -- but not all, definitely not all. ]
And trust me, if some of these ridiculous rooms can't make us smile, we may as well end it all now. [ Death humor, where would they be without you? ]
[ it isn't that the motion of pushing his hair back is completely alien, nor should it be so surprising. perhaps it is only because of the recent situations he had found himself in that it is, having existed a being without form at all or the means to wholly perceive touch.
but it is, briefly, before his expression softens and he laughs a little, sheepish at first.
until he motions to reach for the gun at his side, making a mock-scolding motion with it. ]
Way ahead of you. We either laugh or someone's going to be on cleanup crew for me this time. I'm threatening us both with a good time and I'm on break from mop up duty.
[ why are they like this. who allows them to hang out. ]
[ She shouldn't laugh at that, but she does, in a genuine and unfiltered way instead of her usual giggles behind her hand. They are indeed terrible and she loves every minute of it. ]
Who would need a mop? You know that I eat blood, right? But I'll be damned if I'm licking anyone off the floor, so we'd better get in there and start cackling.
[ And now she's tugging him toward the Love Hotel, trying to drink the rest of her cocoa before they get there -- trust her, there's a very real risk of there being a spit-take with some of these rooms. ]
Off the floor? Right, that's just it, who knows what's been on that thing. So now we'd be talking about getting appropriately-sized platters or whatever for us to die without shattering, probably a wood plank would be better, actually... I think that's a fancy cooking thing--
[ he thinks? he's probably seen 'planked salmon' at some point, it sounds legit. ] --And all of that's too much work even for me.
[ it's the whole "but the paperwork" argument again, complete with a huff. ]
Now the pressure's really on, this has to deliver. [ it's got to be obvious this is all stupid fun, right? he leans in: ] Seriously though, I could use the laughs and I don't care if that laughter kills me.
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no subject
I feel like that sometimes. My past is so awful and the way I talk about myself is so awful for people to hear that they feel like they have to defend me from myself, and it's exhausting. I can't just be myself because it's letting them down.
Is that sort of similar, or am I way off base?
no subject
There I go, being the worst... To think you had a speech planned.
[ he tightens his grip a little, a squeeze. progress! and hopefully enough to show he's messing around with her, too. ]
No, that's... more or less it. Speak honestly, people don't like to hear it. Hide it, people wonder why. Show them why, and... maybe they'll lecture you about why you should forget all that now. As if it doesn't impact the way you think or act.
That's just it. I can't just throw it away because others think I should or think it's ugly. Those memories, that existence - they're mine.
no subject
Tell me about it. If I had ten points for every time someone tried to tell me that I can be whoever I want to be here, just ignore my past and my memories, I'd have enough for a fifty room suite by now. I can't just shrug and pretend it doesn't matter. It's still me. And --
[ She hadn't really put it together like this before now, but ] And when they put it like that, it sure sounds a lot like saying they'd like me better if I could just please be someone different. Someone easier.
no subject
Just ignoring it feels - it feels like running, and disrespecting anyone who mattered in those memories.
[ not the people who sought to harm them, either of them, but anyone they'd ever had any affection for. people that were lost. battles fought, won, lost. ] And it feels like lying. "Don't worry, I don't even know who that person was, I've got a whole new lease on life, I'll just stop doing those things that you'd rather not hear about anymore."
[ frustrating, if his clipped sigh is anything to go off. and then, not for the first time (far from it), she speaks to a thought that had occurred to him, too. ]
... It does sound like it sometimes, doesn't it? I've thought more than once that I was better before I knew anything about myself. Weaker, scared. Less complicated, and easier to handle. And ... maybe, if I could erase all my memories again, people would be happy to finally be rid of all that ugliness and go back to trying to protect and pamper me. For that to work, I would have to remove that drive to want to get 'me' back, and that uneasiness at being pampered, so more than memories, it'd have to be a complete destruction of core personality traits...
...
I think about this a lot.
...
But I like you. [ sometimes things are complicated. this part is not. ]
no subject
Uh -- sorry. I get what you mean a little too well.
In that bar game I got a memory; being here isn't the first time I've had amnesia. It probably isn't the second time or the third time, either. My species seems to -- hibernate? When I wake up I have no memories, no real personality, just instinct. So...
[ Yeah, a little close to home. ]
I understand what you mean about wondering. [ If someone she knew before, maybe liked or loved, showed up here, would they find her an entirely different and distasteful person? If she falls into hibernation again, will anyone she knows here wait for her? Mourn her? Will they hate who she becomes next or manipulate her while she's vulnerable, mold her to their liking? None of these questions are comforting. ]
no subject
I - should know by now that if I've considered it or felt it, you probably have, too.
[ the safe harbor of understanding someone is equal parts reassuring and painful. ]
Do you still want to do this? [ and the quiet part: sorry if me being this way took the happiness out of it. ]
1/2
Don't feel bad. Hearing that, it helps. Not being alone helps. [ She hopes it helps him too, but doesn't dare say it. She doesn't want to make him answer. ]
no subject
I still want to. Nothing about our past or the mess we're in is going to change, so I figure the only thing we can do is find a way to smile. Out of sheer spite, if necessary. [ Because, as they have so often expressed, fuck this place. And some of the people in it -- but not all, definitely not all. ]
And trust me, if some of these ridiculous rooms can't make us smile, we may as well end it all now. [ Death humor, where would they be without you? ]
no subject
but it is, briefly, before his expression softens and he laughs a little, sheepish at first.
until he motions to reach for the gun at his side, making a mock-scolding motion with it. ]
Way ahead of you. We either laugh or someone's going to be on cleanup crew for me this time. I'm threatening us both with a good time and I'm on break from mop up duty.
[ why are they like this. who allows them to hang out. ]
no subject
Who would need a mop? You know that I eat blood, right? But I'll be damned if I'm licking anyone off the floor, so we'd better get in there and start cackling.
[ And now she's tugging him toward the Love Hotel, trying to drink the rest of her cocoa before they get there -- trust her, there's a very real risk of there being a spit-take with some of these rooms. ]
no subject
[ he thinks? he's probably seen 'planked salmon' at some point, it sounds legit. ] --And all of that's too much work even for me.
[ it's the whole "but the paperwork" argument again, complete with a huff. ]
Now the pressure's really on, this has to deliver. [ it's got to be obvious this is all stupid fun, right? he leans in: ] Seriously though, I could use the laughs and I don't care if that laughter kills me.