imeeji_frontstage | (no subject)

[ —oh man. ]

Well, first of all, you don't need to volunteer for this at all. But if there's something you'd be comfortable being ordered to do...

You pretty much know what I'm not comfortable with. [ Which is to say she doesn't love the hypnosis idea but she doesn't think he'd try doing anything she wouldn't enthusiastically do normally ]

...Yeah. But wouldn't you feel better if you got to pick what I was gonna say?

[ She probably would. But there's a problem. ]

I can't seem to make myself say anything.

[ ...??? ]

Something from a game that's still there?

Nothing that complicated. I'm just scared.

Maybe someone else should help with that one.

[ ...Does not like her being a ghost right now. He reaches out, tries to lay a hand on her shoulder to give it a little squeeze. ]

I can do that.

Thank you.

Sorry, I want to help. Anything that doesn't involve chains or mind control, I'm on it.

[ ......................................well, ]

I've got a square for, uh. Holding hands for five minutes.

Oh, well. That's easy enough. I've just got to stay tangible for that long.

[ Holds out a hand ]

I've got a lot of squares we can do just by talking if you don't mind. Talk about the past and present, reveal a regret, overshare...

[ Because you don't do enough of that on your own time, that awful little part of Lupine's brain offers up immediately. He squashes it and takes her hand. ]

Go for it.

[ HUSH EVEVERYONE HAS THEIR BAD HABITS ]

You already know a lot of stuff about my past, but one memory I bought in that forge game was of that creep who owned me "giving" me a friend because animals are scared of me. He bought a child -- like, with money, bought him off his desperate parents. I didn't know how to treat a friend since I'd never had one, so I was pretty awful to him and told him to go back where he came from. It wasn't until he said he couldn't because Joel bought him that I started treating him kindly.

If I didn't kill Joel by caving his fucking head in, then I for sure regret not doing that.

[ IF HE COULD MAKE THIS PART OF HIS BRAIN JUST SHUT UP FOREVER HE WOULD ] [ But also wow, that's. Pretty intensely awful. ]

Next time I've got a square for regrets, put me down for that too. [ Tiny squeeze. ] Could've been born on a different planet, in a different decade.

A lot of things could've happened.

But -- despite all the awful things here and how much I bitch about it, I'm glad to be here. I've never had anyone accept me for what I am before, and people here at least try their best.

[ ...That's probably not intended as a criticism. He hears it anyway. ]

You don't think I accept you?

I didn't mean it like that.

There are sides of me that almost no one has seen. I don't accept them myself, and I can't take someone else I care about telling me they're scared of me.

[ She doesn't think of this as a lack of full trust, but that's what it amounts to. ]

[ Hums. ]

...Are these memories you could show me?

[ Beat. ]

Which is a separate question, just to be clear, from 'would you be willing to show them to me'.

Not exactly. [ Their last conversation about this went terribly, so she doesn't really want to have it again. ]

Pentium told me it's best to keep things as they are. For my own sanity. I don't want to let those parts of me out, I'm too scared of them.

[ ............................frowning kind of a lot. He cares about Pentium, so much, but. ]

So, I don't fully accept you, because I might be scared by stuff you haven't told me yet? And Pentium says you should keep it that way. Is that... about right?

-- No, that's not it. I'm scared of myself, and I'm too scared to chance anyone seeing those parts of me. It's my cowardice, not anything about you.

I didn't tell Pentium either, exactly, he just knows.

[ Listening. After a moment, he hums. ]

Well. It's a risk, obviously. And I guess I can't just tell you to go for it, heh. That'd be pretty damned hypocritical of me.

[ After he wasn't willing to risk Something himself. ]

It's not just a risk. It's the idea of sharing my deepest secrets, my absolute worst moments, things I'm unspeakably ashamed of. Things that are private and painful.

The longer I keep them, the heavier they get. The harder they are to say. The more they grow into other parts of me, like roots splitting a wall or squeezing a stone out of shape. To the point that if I let them out, I think I'd be hollow.

Please, please understand, it's nothing to do with you. It's not a matter of trust, except trust in myself.

[ hmmmmmmmmmmmmm ]

That sounds like it hurts to hold in. Almost as much as it would hurt to let it out?

I don't know, maybe. But I can't say the words. I don't know if I'll ever be able to.

I've tried. Nothing comes out. It's like trying to make myself breathe water.

...maybe some other kinda outlet? Like — I don't know. Painting?

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