[Mal watches her out of the corner of his eye for a moment, cocking an eyebrow. She's just full of surprises, isn't she? He wonders just how many schools there are across the world (worlds?) that follow Hope's Peak's model.
Finally, he offers a silent grunt of agreement.]
You're telling me. It's more pressure than most people think... and it'd be a shame to see you resent your own writing. --Or whatever.
[Uh, along with plenty of other bad things that could have happened. He's not going to bring up the dark ending of that school's legacy, thanks.
He puts one foot flat against the ground, only half-committed to getting up just yet.]
I should probably leave you to it, huh?
[Make sure Luna's coffee's still hot when it gets to him and all.]
Like, with all of the projection of supposed apathy she gave out, it was maybe a bit scary for someone to point out that she would maybe grow to hate her writing. Not that she hadn't doubted her ability with insecurity alone. But she feared that people would maybe push all kinds of pressure next to dealing with the biggest tools on the planet. It would be like Lawndale High squared or cubed. People who would want to make you doubt your place, or people who would think you were less so because you got an "A" to an "A+". God forbid, need a break or not want to network and create a false ad of yourself.
No. Not for her. She knew that, and it ended up working for her. Maybe she missed out on such a grand opportunity, but it ended up being the best for her.
Yet, look where she ended up.
She realized she went a little quiet for a few seconds. She might've worked a small smile.]
It feels like yesterday when I told some jerk that you could be intellectually gifted and morally bankrupt. Doesn't matter what school you went to.
[Just when he was ready to get up, she placed a hand on her notebook. Considering something for a moment, but she fought it a little. Give it a moment.]
And that was dangerous. Of course Mal knew better than to go around divulging any truly important details to someone he barely knew, but he was comfortable enough in her presence to let some of his more personal thoughts and feelings slip through, and that alone was enough of a mistake.
It wasn't that she seemed like the fake, self-serving type he hated so much. It was just that he was resigned to the fact that sooner or later, everyone turned on you.
Don't get too involved, he reminded himself. The smile he returned hers with was tired and bittersweet, but too short to leave much time to analyze it. He stood and stretched his back.]
I'm on it. And hey- if you ever feel like sharing more of your work, I wouldn't mind reading it.
[She wanted to say she knew better. Because every time something happened, mainly a friend leaving, she was told to not go backwards.
As much as she didn't want to do that, not really, it was hard sometimes. Like a thought tried nagging at her mind to stop while she was ahead, because it would just end up painful. Even if it was entirely out of her control. Daria was still here working, and practically everyone she cared about had come and gone.
Everything just was screaming at her at all directions, she didn't know what was the right method anymore. Not even the "harsh but honest" one felt like it was getting to her. That method ALWAYS came easier.
But it wasn't. She went already down this hole.]
I'll keep that in mind.
[That was the best remark she came up with, and it was so short and small compared to how she felt. But it was completely sincere.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Finally, he offers a silent grunt of agreement.]
You're telling me. It's more pressure than most people think... and it'd be a shame to see you resent your own writing. --Or whatever.
[Uh, along with plenty of other bad things that could have happened. He's not going to bring up the dark ending of that school's legacy, thanks.
He puts one foot flat against the ground, only half-committed to getting up just yet.]
I should probably leave you to it, huh?
[Make sure Luna's coffee's still hot when it gets to him and all.]
no subject
Like, with all of the projection of supposed apathy she gave out, it was maybe a bit scary for someone to point out that she would maybe grow to hate her writing. Not that she hadn't doubted her ability with insecurity alone. But she feared that people would maybe push all kinds of pressure next to dealing with the biggest tools on the planet. It would be like Lawndale High squared or cubed. People who would want to make you doubt your place, or people who would think you were less so because you got an "A" to an "A+". God forbid, need a break or not want to network and create a false ad of yourself.
No. Not for her. She knew that, and it ended up working for her. Maybe she missed out on such a grand opportunity, but it ended up being the best for her.
Yet, look where she ended up.
She realized she went a little quiet for a few seconds. She might've worked a small smile.]
It feels like yesterday when I told some jerk that you could be intellectually gifted and morally bankrupt. Doesn't matter what school you went to.
[Just when he was ready to get up, she placed a hand on her notebook. Considering something for a moment, but she fought it a little. Give it a moment.]
Yeah, you better give Luna that coffee.
no subject
And that was dangerous. Of course Mal knew better than to go around divulging any truly important details to someone he barely knew, but he was comfortable enough in her presence to let some of his more personal thoughts and feelings slip through, and that alone was enough of a mistake.
It wasn't that she seemed like the fake, self-serving type he hated so much. It was just that he was resigned to the fact that sooner or later, everyone turned on you.
Don't get too involved, he reminded himself. The smile he returned hers with was tired and bittersweet, but too short to leave much time to analyze it. He stood and stretched his back.]
I'm on it. And hey- if you ever feel like sharing more of your work, I wouldn't mind reading it.
wow
As much as she didn't want to do that, not really, it was hard sometimes. Like a thought tried nagging at her mind to stop while she was ahead, because it would just end up painful. Even if it was entirely out of her control. Daria was still here working, and practically everyone she cared about had come and gone.
Everything just was screaming at her at all directions, she didn't know what was the right method anymore. Not even the "harsh but honest" one felt like it was getting to her. That method ALWAYS came easier.
But it wasn't. She went already down this hole.]
I'll keep that in mind.
[That was the best remark she came up with, and it was so short and small compared to how she felt. But it was completely sincere.]
Thanks.