[ he isn't here to press for it, but he figured she deserved to know that he is the way he is, and it isn't her. he opens his mouth to speak, but quickly shakes his head. maybe he shouldn't? maybe this is a "no somber zone?" ]
I - then if I ever have reason to go again, I might seek out a peaceful room.
[ say "I feel like shit a thousand times over" without saying "I feel like shit a thousand times over." ]
[ Hmm, she doesn't want him thinking he needs to shut up though ]
You can talk about it. I'm happy to listen. I've talked about myself enough for three lifetimes. Besides, we're not there yet.
[ She sips her cocoa and then rests her head on his shoulder, hoping her touch will be grounding like it was when she first saw him after he got his physical form back, then she waits. ]
... I don't want to destroy anything by speaking too much about myself if what I am and what I come from is too upsetting to hear about.
[ it's very raw, but honest. ]
I'm - learning that people don't want the real "me," and it isn't right to inflict it.
[ but even as he says it, for her efforts and her clear intent to try and help, he reaches over and gently holds her against him as they move. more hesitant than he was before the loss of his body, but a little better than after the bartending game when he'd had to comfort and perform. ]
[ Wow thanks she hates everything about that. But she's not about to do That Thing She Hates where people try to blindly be reassuring because they're uncomfortable with you being sad and/or They Need To Fix You or whatever ]
[ So she hums, just listening along and waiting for a moment to quiet her anger on his behalf before she responds ]
I do like cocoa. [ She sips at hers, because of course that's true. ] I also like listening to you, if it's of any help at all. Or being in the same space, even if it's sitting in silence.
The last thing I'd want is for you to feel like you can't be yourself with me, whatever that happens to be. [ Physical form, nonphysical form, complaints or compliments, she doesn't especially care. ]
[ The only thing that would drive her away is being cold-shouldered, which he pointedly hasn't done by reaching out to her, and she appreciates that, especially if all he wants to do is hide. She knows that inclination well. ]
You know what I am, what I've done, and you accept me. I'd say 'how can I do any less for you?' but that's sort of a bad point, because it's not about me owing you anything. Accepting you as you are is the easiest thing in the world for me. I hate that others made you feel so -- wrong.
[ Because she knows what that's like too, and it's horrible. But she's trying not to be angry, so she doesn't focus on it overmuch. ]
[ it is true, he knows it, to be and it had been such an effortless thing to make for her. it was something he could be confident in, and he very much needed a straightforward thing to feel he was getting right. ]
I… wonder sometimes if me being without form is the only way I can exist that doesn’t hurt people to look at. That’s all.
[ that is… not “all,” but after a moment of hesitation, he finally manages something bordering on their normal: ]
That is not me fishing for anyone to tell me that I do not regularly hurt people’s eyes or am pretty enough.
[ a little dulled still, but it’s in there, he’s in there. here. ]
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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ he isn't here to press for it, but he figured she deserved to know that he is the way he is, and it isn't her. he opens his mouth to speak, but quickly shakes his head. maybe he shouldn't? maybe this is a "no somber zone?" ]
I - then if I ever have reason to go again, I might seek out a peaceful room.
[ say "I feel like shit a thousand times over" without saying "I feel like shit a thousand times over." ]
Well, I am in your hands.
no subject
You can talk about it. I'm happy to listen. I've talked about myself enough for three lifetimes. Besides, we're not there yet.
[ She sips her cocoa and then rests her head on his shoulder, hoping her touch will be grounding like it was when she first saw him after he got his physical form back, then she waits. ]
no subject
[ it's very raw, but honest. ]
I'm - learning that people don't want the real "me," and it isn't right to inflict it.
[ but even as he says it, for her efforts and her clear intent to try and help, he reaches over and gently holds her against him as they move. more hesitant than he was before the loss of his body, but a little better than after the bartending game when he'd had to comfort and perform. ]
no subject
[ So she hums, just listening along and waiting for a moment to quiet her anger on his behalf before she responds ]
That has to feel really terrible. I'm so sorry.
no subject
[ because he sees so many who are less than earnest and bristle at suggestions to the contrary or lie around it. ]
That's why I've been so absent. But I thought, maybe- you might like a cocoa.
no subject
The last thing I'd want is for you to feel like you can't be yourself with me, whatever that happens to be. [ Physical form, nonphysical form, complaints or compliments, she doesn't especially care. ]
[ The only thing that would drive her away is being cold-shouldered, which he pointedly hasn't done by reaching out to her, and she appreciates that, especially if all he wants to do is hide. She knows that inclination well. ]
You know what I am, what I've done, and you accept me. I'd say 'how can I do any less for you?' but that's sort of a bad point, because it's not about me owing you anything. Accepting you as you are is the easiest thing in the world for me. I hate that others made you feel so -- wrong.
[ Because she knows what that's like too, and it's horrible. But she's trying not to be angry, so she doesn't focus on it overmuch. ]
no subject
I… wonder sometimes if me being without form is the only way I can exist that doesn’t hurt people to look at. That’s all.
[ that is… not “all,” but after a moment of hesitation, he finally manages something bordering on their normal: ]
That is not me fishing for anyone to tell me that I do not regularly hurt people’s eyes or am pretty enough.
[ a little dulled still, but it’s in there, he’s in there. here. ]
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.