altimit | [ closed ]

[ Oh.

Panic time.

If he hits the back of Michel's head with a pistol whip, what are the chance that he'll forget—no, no, he has to think about this carefully. ]

... How much money do you want? I'll buy your silence.

[ What strange thought just passed behind Oria's eyes? Michel shoots him a stare of utter befuddlement, startled out of his overthinking at last. ]

Just what kind of impression do you have of me?

[ Well. He's certain if he looks up the name "Severine" later it would shed some light on this. ]

[ let me know when he does so I can Spill to you in dms

Oria looks at Michel with a flat stare. People everywhere are swayed by money, especially if it's easy to obtain. He doesn't need to know about personality for that to be valid, is sure a thought that crosses his mind. ]

I think I might feel better if you accept my proposal.

[ He's dead serious. ]

[ What a cynical look. Is that how Michel looks from an outside perspective when he talks like that? That's food for thought. ]

I'm not extorting money from a teenager to make you feel better. [ Flatly! ] ...I understand that it's difficult to trust me in the circumstances. However, you already have your leverage on me.

[ While that may be true, Oria finds it hard to believe that some people would just... not say anything about it? When they clearly can? It's fine, they have defamation lawsuits as backup in case of emergency, but Oria hoped it wouldn't get to this point. ]

... Fine.

[ But he'll be "naive" for once. ]

Whatever we talk about here today is kept between us.

You're thinking something strange again.

[ It's all over that dubious expression... but Oria agreed, which is enough, he supposes. How was Oria able to talk to him so calmly with all of this in his head? Michel still feels a little boggled himself. ]

I have no interest in having my own history dragged in front of others, either. This is — between us.

[ Oria understands, or could understand. It's best not to hope for too much, but even so... ]

Alright.

[ He says firmly as if they just bound themselves to a contract. It feels like there's weight behind that single word despite how the word should sound casual and loose. ]

... My mother lost a baby to miscarriage when I was born. That one was a boy. My older siblings are sisters. Apparently, according to her, they can't be fit for the business world.

[ He frowns. ]

She can't get pregnant anymore, so that was that.

[ Ah. The same, but inverted. Old-fashioned families, older siblings already established. ]

And so... she needed a son. Did you have a say?

[ That had always been one of Michel's lingering nightmares. As stifling as his father's more explosive rage was, the possibility that his parents — either of them — would convince a doctor that treatments could resolve his "irrationality" was much, much more terrifying. ]

Permission for children to receive medical treatment usually requires a parent or guardian's permission... at least, it does here. A parent's permission is the child's permission.

[ So, no. ]

I didn't think anything of it until I got older... but I don't hate my mother.

[ same hat ]

That's why you asked about my family.

[ That's entirely too close to home; Michel stifles a grimace. He understands the feeling very well. But he's not certain he'd be able to say the same, if that had happened to him. ]

...Are you happy with this?

Well, it's what I am, so... I just decided to live with it.

[ :') ]

It is what it is.

I see. If that's your closure.

[ You know... Michel read that forum post. A lot. He doesn't have enough hobbies. And "it just digs at you mentally, its just something i gotta learn to deal with" stuck with him for obvious reasons.

The long pause to think probably masks him checking Oria's equipment descriptions. ]

[ The equipment descriptions are all the same, as they're a set. And it reads as follows:

A set of armor that is not quite "right," not quite "you," but you've learned to live with it. The matching gun doesn't fit quite right in your hands, but it's yours nonetheless.

The weapon is a red flintlock pistol and it's covered with a CZ75 silver handgun skin. Perhaps if Michel were to see it in Oria's (smaller than average) hands, he'd realize why the description is as it is. ]

Yeah, it's mine. I can't stay stuck in the past when I need to move forward.

[ He's seen Oria's small hands, and he's seen the gun. And most importantly — he viscerally knows the feeling of the "self" out of joint. It's not the choice Michel would have made, but even so... ]

That takes its own kind of strength. Perhaps that's part of who you are.

[ And in a situation with no right answers, the choice itself is what matters. Still, he doesn't quite manage to stop his tongue before the rest spills out, too bluntly: ]

I think what your mother did was horrific. [ An understatement. ] ...But, I can understand not desiring to hate her. I feel the same about mine.

[ Oria loves his family and he'd do a lot of things for them. Hell, he's drop whatever he was doing and even go halfway across the globe right away if they needed him. Oria would understand that many people would hate their mothers if they were in a similar situation as he was, but despite everything, he still loves his family the most. ]

Wow, we're alike more than I expected.

[ Is that a good or bad thing? Regardless, it makes him feel less alone during his eighteen years of his existence for the first time. ]

I don't know how to feel about that.

[ The grumble is instinctive and reflexive, just a little undermined by Michel's expression softening slightly. Even if it's naivete, or self-destructive loyalty, that even one other person could see some of the same things he has and still wish for his family's happiness... it's like he can feel some of the creeping corrosion of doubt recede, just a little. ]

[ Oria huffs, but then smiles at Michel. It's really genuine and also soft. ]

It means you can now feel less alone, stupid.

[ ...Ah. Well, if Oria is going to be like that about it... Michel can't help but smile softly in return. ]

...That may take some adjustment. [ Half joking, and half not. ] But, that's... you as well.

I can adapt pretty fast!

[ Oria feels like there's been a weight lifted off his shoulders. He's never meant to tell that to anyone. He planned on taking the secret to the grave for fear that it would impact the family's reputation even though he wasn't the person who started this whole thing. ]

I'm stronger than I look.

[ Could it always have been this easy, if Michel had been willing to speak to someone else before? Past evidence says no. But... maybe he'll be willing to consider it, after this. ]

I'm beginning to see as much already. [ Ah. A related thought, though more literal: ] ...And I won't tease you about your height anymore.

[ Oria is a terrible benchmark for standards, but I believe in Michel... he also appreciates his efforts but smiles anyway. ]

You don't have to go that far. Besides, I haven't stopped growing yet!

[ It's not copium he swears ]

[ That's copium... But he did just say he wouldn't, so. He clears his throat and tries for more restraint. ]

If it's any consolation, you're as tall as my middle brother already.

[ He feels like he said the same thing to Vogel, actually. All these short teenagers. ]

No... it isn't.

[ How would he know how tall he is? How is that satisfactory?! Middle? Middle?! ]

[ Ah... RIP Oria. That was all he had. He thinks about it very hard — good thing he doesn't have the dial-up effect at the moment — before reaching out and patting Oria lightly on the top of the head.

There, there. ]

[ Oria usually doesn't enjoy headpats because that would mean other people are touching his hair, which he REALLY doesn't like, but.

Eh.

He can make an exception for Michel. ]

You're kinda awkward, huh?

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cw mention of miscarriage, implied misogyny

cw transphobia, medical nonconsent

cw medical nonconsent

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