[ Kinder than her own best friends, in some ways. He'd been friendly and polite and enthusiastic; and maybe some of that was because he had no reason to suspect her, but... it had been nice, to be treated normally. Like she was the person she acts like (the person that she used to be, that she still remembers like a distorted fever dream), not this ghost that she's become.
Peony takes a deep breath, forcing her voice as even as possible. ]
I'm not totally harmless. None of us are. So what? Whatever it is about him, I don't care. At least he doesn't-- [ treat me like the filthy piece of Despair that I am and maybe I want to pretend too sometimes!! ] --at least he doesn't hate being around me.
[She could have slapped him with all her might and it'd leave less of a sting. His shoulders droop in immediate defeat, all the tension just leaving his body. If only it could feel as relaxing as it sounds. His heart is sinking, sinking...
That's what she thinks, huh?
The worst part is he doesn't know if he can deny it. He doesn't hate her, of course. But being around her, being around Luna, being around anyone lately - it's all just a reminder of his mistakes and the things that have hurt him. The people he's hurt. So maybe he does hate it, a little bit.
He exhales deeply, shifting his gaze to the stain at their feet.]
...Fine. I'll get the kid some flowers or something. Happy?
She'd said it half-thoughtlessly, but there's the confirmation of it right there. It's the sort of thing she might've teased him about once upon a time, just to rile him up and get him shouting, but that sort of defeated response says a lot.
Peony knows exactly what it feels like to be stabbed in the heart, and she can say with confidence that it hurt less than this. She wants to cry, but what rises instead is a detached numbness, which is also familiar: she'd felt like this in the few seconds of awareness she'd had, once the knife had slid home and all of that brainwashing -- all of it, all of it -- had broken long enough for her to know exactly what she'd done, to herself and to the people she loved the most.
Not for the first time, she misses her Despair. At least she could have gotten something out of this.
Her voice comes out quiet, small, flat. ]
Mmm. Don't worry about it. Just focus on what's important to you.
[ Luna, obviously. Peony opens the door and then steps away. He's free to go. ]
Be careful with your walk. It'll be bad if you hurt yourself more.
[ And then she wanders past him, towards her bed. ]
[One thing's for sure, he hates being in this room right now. He doesn't offer more than a noncommittal grunt of farewell as he stalks off, unsure if he can muster up the energy to punch a hole in the wall on the way out.
(The boards are still there, crisscrossing over the damage by the stairwell. He could just break them...)
The cherry trees are in full bloom this time of year, and it's with a bittersweet nostalgia that he passes beneath their fluttering cascade. We'll still be together. This wasn't supposed to be how things turned out.
Ah. What a shame that the company he hates most is his own. Guess he's stuck with that one.]
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no subject
[ Kinder than her own best friends, in some ways. He'd been friendly and polite and enthusiastic; and maybe some of that was because he had no reason to suspect her, but... it had been nice, to be treated normally. Like she was the person she acts like (the person that she used to be, that she still remembers like a distorted fever dream), not this ghost that she's become.
Peony takes a deep breath, forcing her voice as even as possible. ]
I'm not totally harmless. None of us are. So what? Whatever it is about him, I don't care. At least he doesn't-- [ treat me like the filthy piece of Despair that I am and maybe I want to pretend too sometimes!! ] --at least he doesn't hate being around me.
no subject
That's what she thinks, huh?
The worst part is he doesn't know if he can deny it. He doesn't hate her, of course. But being around her, being around Luna, being around anyone lately - it's all just a reminder of his mistakes and the things that have hurt him. The people he's hurt. So maybe he does hate it, a little bit.
He exhales deeply, shifting his gaze to the stain at their feet.]
...Fine. I'll get the kid some flowers or something. Happy?
no subject
She'd said it half-thoughtlessly, but there's the confirmation of it right there. It's the sort of thing she might've teased him about once upon a time, just to rile him up and get him shouting, but that sort of defeated response says a lot.
Peony knows exactly what it feels like to be stabbed in the heart, and she can say with confidence that it hurt less than this. She wants to cry, but what rises instead is a detached numbness, which is also familiar: she'd felt like this in the few seconds of awareness she'd had, once the knife had slid home and all of that brainwashing -- all of it, all of it -- had broken long enough for her to know exactly what she'd done, to herself and to the people she loved the most.
Not for the first time, she misses her Despair. At least she could have gotten something out of this.
Her voice comes out quiet, small, flat. ]
Mmm. Don't worry about it. Just focus on what's important to you.
[ Luna, obviously. Peony opens the door and then steps away. He's free to go. ]
Be careful with your walk. It'll be bad if you hurt yourself more.
[ And then she wanders past him, towards her bed. ]
no subject
(The boards are still there, crisscrossing over the damage by the stairwell. He could just break them...)
The cherry trees are in full bloom this time of year, and it's with a bittersweet nostalgia that he passes beneath their fluttering cascade. We'll still be together. This wasn't supposed to be how things turned out.
Ah. What a shame that the company he hates most is his own. Guess he's stuck with that one.]