estoria | ( OPEN ) i don't want a mental suplex, i want quality customer service

Entry tags:

( OPEN ) i don't want a mental suplex, i want quality customer service

Who: Elliot Nightray (

meriter) and you!
When: IC 11/25—11/27
Where: Residential District (primarily the CERES Gymnasium) + Shopping District (anywhere)
What: Elliot has a terminal allergy to common sense: a lesson in three (four) parts, comprised of psuedo-drowning, Machiavellian swindlers, and terrible book taste, respectively speaking.
Rating/Warning: None, probably.

1. INSERT SWIMMING PUN HERE (ceres gymnasium.)

[ In reconciliation of every self-deprecatory impulse in his body, Elliot actually shows up for lifeguard duty for the first time in two weeks.

He'd been staving off the financial necessity of having real credits on hand to buy very real things for a long while (like microwave dinners, for one thing, considering he'd survived thus far on a diet of refried peas and mashed potatoes with the consistency of clumping dirt). Monetary gain: the true motivator of any stalwart teenager in these trying, trying times. It wasn't as if he was going to turn to his brothers in some prostrated act of weakness. Just because he'd been hairsplitting nebulous concepts like coming to the gym during his technical shift and maybe staying the whole period instead of flat-out leaving whenever it suited him didn't mean he was a stranger to manual labor. Not at all.

So. It's just another routine day at the swimming pool, and by the third hour he's sweating bullets attempting to get a grip over his genteel, strait-laced Victorian morals. There are just so many exhibitionists about in the afternoons, all in varying levels of undress, and he's blistering red up to his ears keeping his gaze trained at all the patrons without turning away at the sight of scantily-clothed bodies. Literal lingerie, at that — it was nothing short of incredible that Vessalius hadn't succumbed to utter debauchery, exposed day in and day out to water-slick forms and all manner of loosened morals. He'd always been a weird kid, anyway.

But his tension reaches a culminating point hits when someone's apparently spritzing out at the deep end of pool, an arm stuck out and frantically waving him over. Reluctantly, Elliot strips off his jacket and cravat and strides over, peering down at the swimmer in question with scrunched eyebrows a stare tipped toward palpable disdain. ]

[ Too bad he doesn't have any sense of peripheral awareness to comprehend the rather peculiar grin he's shot with until the stranger's got their hand grappled around his, and then — ]

again

[ — he falls in. Panic briefly settling in his lungs, he spends a second or two in slantslide vertigo, water rushing around in some great, disorienting deluge before he kicks up, hard, breaks the surface with audible frustration. ]

I HATE THIS JOB!

2. CULTURE OF THE YOUNG AND VAIN (around, somewhere ...)

[ When his mood considerably sobers, he takes his paycheck for a supermarket splurge to refuel his stockpile of frozen dinners and comes away with several plastic bags full of cheap, cholesterol-inducing foods. Normally he'd head straight for his apartment, but Elliot decides to take the scenic route and ends up finding the kitschiest merchant stalls known to man. One minute he's minding his own business, and the next he's surrounding by a copious amount of creams and lotions purported to rejuvenate youth, like he'd just been plunked in the middle of a health ad and was ethically obligated to spout off some hypocritical drivel about the losers who'd buy into such scams. Seriously.

Well, beggars can't be choosers. Elliot wastes no time forcing his way to the front to blithely jab a finger at one of the offending vendors in question. ]

[ You know, because there's nothing wrong with waxing poetic on insurrection to the merchants. With this kind of bullheaded mentality, Elliot's lucky he isn't get his ass hauled away by security guards right this minute. ]

3. LMAO, SPOILERS (still around ...)

[ Wayward hellion of paltry exasperation that he is, Elliot Nightray can't get by without self-gratifying himself on one of the finer things in life. Namely, literature. So he makes a habit of scanning the shelves of the bookstore with a probing fixation at least once a week, turning up his nose at the YA section and heading for the classics to spend hours turning through the pages, scouring the contents for answers, or maybe just a quick read.

Only — today it's different, because he's currently engaged in some kind of weird, heated argument with the cashier. On closer inspection, it's composed mostly of angry, one-sided outbursts, like: ]

at all

[ Or: ]

Holy Knight

[ If nothing else, bystanders can at least pick up on the fact that there's a very frustrated fanboy hogging the front desk to blather on and on about the most emotionally bloated, self-indulgent novels to ever grace the Latowidge Academy library. ]

4. CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE (wildcard!)

~~i didn't put him in school~~

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ HEY, THAT'S DISCRIMINATION AGAINST EVERY RICH, OVERLY-ENTITLED KID IN THE WORLD. He acts only on his own prerogative — his mother (prior to insanity) spoiled him rotten, his father indulged him with swords and ungodly sense of prides, and his siblings did a frankly shitty job of assisting him in becoming a well-rounded, altruistic individual.

It's not Elliot's fault if people don't see eye-to-eye with him. Frankly, that's none of his concern. ]

What — [ splutter, splutter, that idea's so preposterous and not at all realistic, where would she get such an inane theory like that ] — are you talking about? I've been to plenty of marketplaces! I could describe several of them to you in detail, if necessary.

[ Or rather, he'd been to auctions for people in well-to-do opulence who have never had to worry about their next meal or actually having to scrape up a means of living. They're nothing more than charades, conventions for demonstrating wealth and prestige. And while the Nightrays have never been sincerely appreciated for their reputation, it hadn't impeded the annual revenue they garnered as one of the Four Great Dukedoms. ]

And you? Are these type of greedy practices commonplace where you come from?

[Kaoru isn't one to talk either, honestly, as someone who lives off the income of a clan without having to split a single ounce of it with anyone else... But as someone who interacts with the general public much more than a hoity-toity son of a duke, Kaoru also (blessedly) has more street smarts than a noble might.]

Ah? You have? [The smile presented has a gentle sort of amusement just below the surface, but it comes and goes quickly. Kaoru's head inclines forward, toward the shopkeeper who is now succinctly distracted with helping other customers with Elliot The Loud And Unbearable distracted.]

We could discuss it sometime - now, perhaps? Unless your business here is of greater importance, in which case I would hate to intrude more than I already have. Still, I wouldn't mind learning more about the world that you come from.

[The second question, of course, goes left unanswered.]

Are you genuinely that surprised?

[ As for Elliot, his reluctance to admit that he knows absolutely zilch about anything that isn't hypocrisy or his bone-deep existential need to spew out profanities and never shut up again rears its ugly head. Promptly giving his pride the bum rap, he scoots off a few paces away from the stall in slight discomfort, much to everyone's audible relief as they surge around the vendor and his big-ticket foot creams.

Scrubbing briefly at the nape of his neck, he vaguely accedes. Just one bobbing nod, protracted and thin, and then Elliot's negotiating his terms for Talking about Unpleasant Things on the down low, steering away from the panoply of effusive customers to grip his grocery bags even tighter. ]

If you want to know, I suppose I wouldn't be against telling you. It's nothing I thought you would ever be concerned with, however.

[For the sake of Elliot's sad, sad pride, Kaoru will be kind enough to leave his first question unanswered. "Yes" would probably be rude and might shut down the conversation, after all!

So neatly setting that aside - and stepping outside of the throng of customers, as well - Kaoru will redirect focus to the second topic. It's always good to learn more about other people, especially if the exchange can be kept uneven. Information alone is certainly not enough to give someone enough of an edge to survive, but it doesn't hurt to have it.]

Well, I've known you for several months, but I hardly know a thing about you. Where you're from, what things are like there... If I'm to call you a friend of mine as I'd like to, I can't rudely remain uneducated.

[A smile follows, faint but friendly, before Kaoru turns to start heading out of the maze of shops. TRY TO KEEP UP, STUFFY MCNOBLES.]

I could say the same of you.

[ DIVERSION SUCCESSFUL. Even if it was spoken in the least-offensive manner possible, he would probably stalk off if his pride was too badly damaged.

Nevertheless, Kaoru's succeeded distracting Elliot enough that he completely retracts his key goal of making the poor beauty cream seller cry because he only pauses to tighten his grip over his grocery bags before continuing in pursuit. It's only after they're decently stranded from the rest of gossipy civilization as they know it that he continues speaking. ]

How about a trade, then? We'll exchange questions and answers back and forth. I wouldn't want to leave things so one-sided. And — ... I am interested. In learning more about you as my ally, I mean.

[ He certainly dodged a bullet right there, because of course the word ally is synonymous and yet completely different from the word friend. You know. Semantics. ... Yeah. ]

["AS MY ALLY." ELLIOT NIGHTRAY, THIS IS WHY YOU ATTRACT PEOPLE LIKE OZ... And conversely, people like Kaoru... So it's really just a lose-lose situation.

Kaoru is good-natured about it, at least, and ends up laughing in a polite and unobtrusive way.]

You are? I'm afraid I won't have many interesting things to tell you. [Glancing over! There's a mildly teasing expression present, but it's just soft enough to not be offensive to certain delicate sensibilities.]

But that trade sounds fine to me, anyway. Would you like to visit a cafe so that we can sit and talk, then?

Don't disparage yourself like that. It's unseemly.

[ Elliot's just a handful of contradictions thrown into the body of a prepubescent nerd, it's no wonder Kaoru's treating him like he's made of porcelain. ANYWAYS, it's been a while since he's actively sought out someone's attention, so he'll nod in assent, already trekking in the direction of that one place they agreed upon visiting way-back-when or something. Ignore the fact he's literally fast-jogging there, he might be a little too excited by the prospect. Someone spray him with water before he gets too yappy. ]

Certainly. I've saved some funds in the meantime, so as such, I'll take care of the bill.

[There's just a polite laugh at that BECAUSE WHAT ELSE DOES ONE SAY, SERIOUSLY. Elliot is a handful and Kaoru isn't even the one dealing with him, more often than not...

But it's down the streets they go, familiar as they are now that it isn't even necessary to check landmarks, really. All of the shops that are most often frequented are as easy to get to as Kaoru's own apartment.]

Oh— Are you certain? It's a kind offer.

[A faint smile! Even if Elliot's looking forward or otherwise not directly at this dingus, there's a little upward lilt in the tone of those words, too.]

[ Good thing Kaoru has enough social tact to pull punches where they count, or they might've gotten themselves entangled in an emotionally-draining argument about people stuck in dead-end jobs forcing themselves to capitulate to Elliot's all-encompassing assholery. He's a work in progress, to be sure.

They're some ways in their trip when he speaks again, brushing stray lint off his shoulder in lieu of staring at Kaoru directly, because it's just like a lady possessing higher sensibilities to worry about petty bills. ] I don't mind. It's nothing you should you bother yourself about, either.

... How has your sister been?

[ Apparently, no one gave him the memo since the last hack-and-slash clown incident. ]

[He's going to be a dang work in progress for the rest of his life at this rate ELLIOT... PICK IT UP PUNK!!

But Kaoru will look back up at his dingus traveling partner when he decides to speak up again, mildly amused by his chivalrous bill-paying ways. A tab is an important thing to consider! No one wants to feel in debt even over something as simple as a coffee and biscuit, probably--

And then there's that question, and all thoughts of coffees and bills are neatly derailed. OH BOY... Elliot sure knows exactly what topics to hone in on to make a conversation unpalatable, doesn't he? It'd almost be an impressive skill if it weren't for the bitter taste left behind in Kaoru's mouth. Chizuru's friends have noticed, probably, but Kaoru hasn't told anyone. It's too unpleasant. It makes him too unpleasant. Walking on eggshells:]

—She isn't here anymore. [A careful balance of displeasure and mourning and upset to hide just how deep and dark the sentiments below the surface get.]

[ NOT HIS FAULT that Elliot's a product of his genetic environment and a fallacious version of the hedgehog's dilemma — words snagged like mental congestion, dull on the tongue and wholly unreceptive to the warning touch, to the flicker of disconcertion that shivers in Kaoru's gaze, curving disconsolately at nowhere in particular prior to aversion, fingers tangling and untangling in knotted semantics. He'd never even met that girl — Kaoru's sister, neither on that night or a day like any other before she dissipated into thin air, and it's a strange concept in essence to recognize, nothing like alienation or loneliness, only looming absence.

Briefly, he falls out of step, wavering like a high-strung piano note tuned out-of-key, the sharp strung inordinately tight, and then in stark intonation: ] ... What? For how long now?

[ But Elliot is always, always blunt: crude where he should be kind, sharp and callous and nothing less than inconsistent where it really matters. He'd never told anyone about Leo, either, how he'd appeared and departed so quickly that he could've been the continuation of yet another incoherent dream. Finally, a sense of unreality, several months past normal acclimatization. After so long, the dichotomy of resentment (how it built and destroyed people) distorted as an awfully implicit truth. And maybe he did despise Leo in a residual sense, but he hated himself even more.

In the end, he never did get to make it up to him. ]

I'm sorry, Kaoru. I had no idea she'd already left.

[The space of time in which Elliot talks is more than enough for Kaoru to regain control again, to present what needs to be presented in a situation like this. It would be awful, awful to come this far only for the facade to come crumbling down for the same reason it always does.

There's a paleness to the smile Elliot is given, but it just looks homesick rather than sick from the unfortunate person he is.]

It hasn't been very long. Less than a week. [It's still a fresh pain, even though Kaoru is equally talented at shoving away new and old things alike.]

Thank you, though... I didn't want to speak much of it, since everyone has their own worries and struggles here. Her friends know already, so that seemed enough.

[It isn't enough, of course. Even the promise of her safety isn't enough. Nothing will ever be enough until they're back together again, side by side, suffering through whatever Cerealia throws at them with equal, matching steps.]

[ Good thing Elliot isn't a mindreader, or things would get weird in record-breaking fashion. He shrugs — dim and innocuous, lacking and real edge, because it's only in situations likes these where his true weakness shines.

A proclivity for insults without real basis — a temper he can't even outlive, and it's exasperating with Kaoru stock-still and paling in the windless air. Belligerence its own knife. He curbs his anger around his mouth, forces control into his hands to outstretch one hand, palm Kaoru's shoulder in a wholly clumsy movement. ] We can look for her. Do you know of her last whereabouts? Was a search party organized?

[ His voices lacks that virulent temper, but somehow, it doesn't really seem to matter. ]

That doesn't make your own any less inconsequential. Don't go so far as to devalue your needs as less significant than those of anyone else.

[OH, ELLIOT... This moment will become a paradigm, without a doubt. If only he hadn't tried so hard to be a somewhat decent human being, Kaoru would have probably just continued to view him as a vague amusement to pass the boring hours with and little else, but there's something about kindness - even rough and inelegant kindness - that strikes every wrong chord no matter what it is. Kindness directed at him is something that he, at his core, desperately desires. It's also something that he greatly despises, but it's attention-grabbing either way, and not the positive variety of attention-grabbing.

Still, despite a brief hitch in step, Kaoru maintains flawlessly. Elliot is given a somewhat sheepish smile and Kaoru's hands fold together at waist level, knitting nervously.]

Elliot is truly kind... Saying things like that and offering to help - I appreciate it. [Followed by a gentle nod to illustrate that very real gratitude.]

I've already looked everywhere for her. [LITERALLY. Several times over, in fact. The motivation of a distressed siscon is strong...]

A search party wasn't organized, but the people who know her have been keeping an eye out. She isn't the first to disappear and she won't be the last, I'm certain, but... [A pause, discomforted. Then:] It's upsetting. I don't want something like that to become "normal" here, but there's very little that can be done about it.

[ Good thing Elliot's here to fill the void with the closest he's had to mutual respect for anyone (his friends, his family, himself) in a long, long time. Maybe one day the favor will be returned to him, but that's not something he dwells upon in the wake of Kaoru's bereavement.

His expression blotches at the compliment, which he dismissively waves off with a sigh entrenched somewhere in his lungs. At some point he's dropped both hands, which remain idle at his sides. ]

I know. Leo ... he's made several reappearances now. [ There's nothing thick and cloying his voice, no mawkish sentiment for his valet, because that's something he reserves solely for his first friend (which is really kind of sad, given the context of his hellish canon, but whatever). ] I don't expect it to be any different from your sister's disappearance in that regard. She may show up yet again when you least expect it.

[ Noncommittally shaking his head, he proceeds further down the path, and it's only when they're just a block away from the café that he speaks up once more. ] Have you tried contacting CERES about the matter? Under duress, they may answer differently in private lines.

[There's a low, sympathetic-sounding hum at that, and Kaoru's gaze shifts to the left and then toward the ground.]

I'm sorry that you've had to experience this, as well.

[Whoever Leo is - friend or family - is surely important for Elliot to specifically bring them up. Not that Kaoru actually cares much for shared experiences of any nature, good or bad; there's not much solace to be taken in not suffering alone in this case, even though it does bring some satisfaction.

Content to remain silent for the duration of their walk, nothing more is said until Elliot is the one to break that quiet air. Kaoru glances over, but only for a second or two.]

It's something that I intend to do as soon as I have a decent plan. It would be reckless to approach without an idea of what to say or what to expect.

[Which is actually putting it very mildly. Kaoru's paranoia and preparations always extend much, much deeper than they appear on the surface...

But they're at the cafe soon enough, and Kaoru steps through the propped-open front door without hesitation.]

It's nothing.

[ Nonchalance, full stop — or some semblance of it, because pretensive as he is, loss still strikes him in the same manner. Unraveled, he averts his gaze, fingers itching with restlessness gone incendiary, fleshing out his the sheer discomposure when he turns aside. ]

Then it's better to be prepared for every eventuality. You can't be sure if or when you'll run into a situation that calls for the last resort.

[ And Elliot, if nothing else, is familiarly acquainted with the guileless art of smothering his contempt for his own weakness by means of verbal assault. Trailing in after Kaoru's flitting form, he draws forward a few paces, gesturing to the coterie of tables and seats littered through the coffee shop. ]

Is there anything in particular you'd like to order? While I properly order at the front, would it be alright if you could find us a place to sit?

Preparation does seem to be key in situations like this.

[Kaoru only addresses the latter part, because "it's nothing" almost always means the opposite, unless the conversational partner in question is some sort of sociopath, which Kaoru can only assume Elliot Nightray is not. Either way, anything with that much emotion packed into it is something better left untouched.

But the question is a good enough springboard, used swiftly to get away from those heavier topics. With a smile:]

I can do that, certainly. As for my order, just a cup of green tea would be sufficient... Thank you.

[And off Kaoru sets, feet barely making a pitter-pat against the floor. The table selected is a cozy one, tucked away from the brighter lights of the front seating area framed by its outward-facing windows.]

[ And even if there's a lot he doesn't overtly acknowledge, his companion is sensible when it comes to probing. Elliot's loathe to reveal too much of himself, whether as a weakness to exploit or as admittance to his own personal hang-ups, but Kaoru always ... seems to listen, somehow. She hasn't given him any reason to doubt her, going so far as to reveal the loss of her sister, and it strikes a resonant chord in him.

The loss of someone indelibly dear.

After placing and receiving the order, he returns with a tray set with two cups filled with green tea, which he cursorily sets on the table before sliding into the seat across from her.

There's a beat of silence, strange and protracted in the wake of his reveries, and then: ] What's your sister like?

[Kaoru smiles up at him as he sets the tray down, reaching forward only after he's taken a seat to pluck the nearest cup from it and hold it between both hands. The cup itself is hot, but Kaoru doesn't seem to reel from the heat at all.

The smile remains perfectly in place even as the question is posed, and the familiar bite of bitter-green envy surfaces to coat his tongue like the green tea still left untasted. What's Chizuru like? Everyone who hasn't met her wants to know eventually, for this or that reason. The answer changes sometimes, but the core always stays the same. Sweet, tolerant, kind, lovely: the sort of person that everyone wants to know, and the person that everyone protects even if they barely do know her. Kaoru's gaze shifts to settle on the surface of the tea, idly watching as licks of steam rise from it and dissipate into the air.]

Chizuru is... the sort of person who tries her best for others, no matter what the situation is. [Foolish.] She's dependable and reliable. Very, very giving. She would sooner put herself into a compromising situation than see those close to her suffer. [A person who doesn't understand how the world truly works.] Above all, I suppose I would describe her as being kind. Chizuru is a terribly kind person... It's a good trait to have, even though it gets her in trouble at times. [And yet, despite all of the carefully guarded blades that those words hold, the next ones spoken are said earnestly.]

She's my only sibling and my little sister. If she makes mistakes or trips, I want to be there for her. [But that statement, while relatively benign without examination, taps into a wealth of madness that Kaoru is all too aware of. Shifting out of that gear quickly, Kaoru looks up from the cup with a fleeting smile.]

I hope that the two of you might be able to meet and get along, if she returns.

[ These days, it's harder to keep up false pretenses. Reluctant as he is to change, over the months he's begun to acclimatize, settling more and more into the person he's always been. The paranoia's always there, diluting his sincerity in the ebbing corruption of earnestness into vulgar psychosis, but resignation is its own vice and it's harder and harder not to take Kaoru at arbitrary face-value. Absentmindedly, he stares into the contents of the brimming cup and away again in tacit distraction, eyes lowered at half-mast.

His hands shake so badly while she speaks. Elliot buries them in his coat pockets at the first conceivable opportunity, shoulders sinking. ]

You care a lot about her. Chizuru seems like a good person. Maybe I'll have the chance to meet her someday.

[ Faintly spoken, like his voice is on the precipice of cracking open, slivers of weakness shining through.

In the end, overexposure wins out over his halfhearted qualms. The glinting brightness rounding Kaoru's eyes to circles, soft and empathetic when she smiles at him. Someone to trust.

Elliot glances up, then down, prepossessed by the urge to tear into his own palms in an effort to inhibit the shaking tremors bleeding into his fingers. ]

I ... I had a sister, too. If you ever got the chance to meet her, I think you would've liked her. She had a way of talking that caught the attention of everyone around her. It was ridiculous. She could be talking about the weather, and every single person in the room would stop to listen.

And just like your sister, she was really ... too kind, I think. She let herself care too much. When my mother — [ A stutter, an incongruous juncture of silence between one word the next. ] — fell ill, she took it on herself to run affairs in our estate. Our father was always at work, you see. He never had much time for us. And she could've left it to one of our parent's advisors, but she could never leave well-enough alone.

[ A stagnant pause when he disassociates, opts out of one conversational thread for another. ] Did you ever fight with Chizuru?

[Kaoru's expression is exactly as it should be for this situation, along with the posture, air, and everything else that comes together to form one neat package that says "empathetic". It's one of many well-practiced arts, though there's a little surprise as well, to hear something so personal from Elliot. The little hitch when he speaks of his mother catches Kaoru's attention, but it seems like a soft topic better left alone for now. Later, perhaps - another time.

For now, Kaoru's focus remains on the focal point of sisters and family. A downward, pinched look: a certain extra understanding.]

Ah... Your sister sounds like an admirable person. [The use of past tense was noticed, of course, but echoing it carelessly seems almost insulting.] To take on that much... She must be very responsible and dependable, as well.

[Like Chizuru.

The next topic is one Kaoru doesn't particularly like, but will approach regardless.]

When we were younger, we hardly ever fought at all. To be honest, I can't recall any instances immediately... I'm certain that it must have happened over this or that since fights between siblings are unavoidable, but it was never anything particularly harmful.

... She was. [ His lips are almost unmoving, words breathed like another homage to ruin, just another way to renew his guilt, because she's never really died for him. Vanessa lives on in the disconsolate farce he's made of his life, pretending he's still the same as he always was when inside — past the animosity and the trapped senselessness of his hypocrisy — he's always had the capacity for unpardonable cruelty.

Jaw tightening, he tacitly avoids directly staring at Kaoru, instead fixating his attention to the left or right margin of her face, staggered clean through with a frigidity that leaks viscid into his bones, cloying and inextricable.

It's nothing like humility. The farthest thing from it. Dissuading himself from the sudden compulsion to pour tea down his throat in one unrelieved draught (warm as it is, it'd do nothing but needlessly scald his esophagus and alarm Kaoru), he turns aside again, eyes fixed on the granite table with unnecessary preciseness, blinking away the needles prickling his vision. ] I see.

You've ... never hated your sister?

[There's the indelible "was", a very pointed and purposeful wording. Kaoru's brow wrinkles a little into soft, sympathetic lines. No comment is made, even so; he's well-aware of the fact that offering condolences when knowing so very little about the situation would only come off as trite and meaningless. They can come after Elliot offers more information, if he does at all.

And then it's Kaoru's turn to glance away, though it's a very brief drop in gaze. From Elliot's face to the little lick of unruly hair curling at his temple to the bookshelf pressed against the nearby wall and then back again. A breath in; it's held for a second or two longer than usual.]

I love my sister more than anything. [That, of course, doesn't mean that Kaoru has never hated her. In the end, his hatred is equal in weight and size to his love - or maybe it's always been the same thing. Everything had been warped at such a young age that what could be considered "normal, healthy" love is a distant and alien concept.

The silence lingers again, and Kaoru's smile (which had dropped off to make room for the sympathy) returns for a beat.]

Even if we don't see eye to eye on some things, I can't say that I've ever hated her.

[The most direct lie Kaoru has said to Elliot yet.]

[ His expression falls short of actual culpability, eyes blinking too bright, too caught, by the intensity of Kaoru's stare as it falls and diffuses past him. He can't manage words; every time he attempts to voice his sympathy, it dies in his throat, the sticky discomfort of never expressing empathy when he's meant to. And he can tell, clearly discern the affection in Kaoru's eyes, even if there's something strange about the way it's transposed. A coolness at complete polar odds with the wayward stares — for Kaoru, whose directness he takes as a given, it's odd.

But her sister is gone. That's understandable, too.

Without comprehension, he lets his eyes wander, then plaintively raises the tea cup for a sip, a slow intake of warmth that settles in protracted suffusion within him. Out of cowardice, he doesn't lift his gaze. ]

I've loathed my sister, once. Just once. [ A beat. ] But that didn't mean I didn't care about her even then. She ... if she had a flaw, it would be pride. It blinded her to the truth at hand. And then she died.

[ His tone waxing quiet at the end, he glances up at last, eyes boring holes into Kaoru. ] Where do you think they go after they die? Do you think there's an afterlife, or do you believe that nothing awaits us after we breathe our last breaths and inevitably perish?

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject