altimit | [ closed ] Winter in September (October, November...) (dungeons + catchall)

[She seems surprised, again, at the apology intended for her. In the moment, she had been afraid that Gorre would call her bluff; she'd feared for her own life when he found her out, if anything. It was only after he turned his eyes and swords towards Yuui and Yael that the fear transformed from something tacit, instinctual to a real terror: something she actually felt. Had Gorre's actions in that moment really been nothing more than a temper tantrum, or was he only reacting to the barb of pain by doing something familiar?]

... I thought it would be only natural for Gorre to have a door connecting to you. He probably had the most data on your cruelty to yourself, didn't he?

[Even now, it seems, Michel's lashes turn inward on his own feelings. Is it supposed to be that the door was only there to...what, punish him?]

[ Had Gorre had more data on that? Or on the cruelty of others towards him? The fact that he even has to pause to weigh those calculations is probably its own form of self-pity. And that thought pulls a tiny smile from him, awkward but sincere. ]

I was his initial data set... and the most reliable source of information he had. Considering how much of me he was unwilling to delete because of that, I think my influence on him may have been stronger than for Macha and Tarvos.

[ Her logic isn't wrong in the least. An odd feeling; he isn't used to feeling transparent to others, even those who have known him for longer. ]

Lucky for all of us. He ensured there was still a you there to reach. [They had charged in there with such optimism and determination, but a positive outcome was never guaranteed. It was just belief keeping them afloat.]

Still, it also means we didn't do you any favors by opening that door. I thought we'd uncover you, but it's like uprooting a flower, isn't it? [She gestures to one of the Roses, delicate and only worth harvesting at its prime. Miharu can admit to the callousness of her plan. She might have thought that locating the door was their way of finding Michel in that dark, twisted nave, but she hadn't paid a single thought to what would be exposed along with him.]

It must have seemed... [Miharu pauses, then, finding no better word, shrugs a little helplessly.] Cruel.

[ "Luckily"... If he thinks about it pragmatically, it's not completely wrong. If he hadn't been able to reassert himself then, he doesn't know how many people Gorre would have managed to maim or kill before they stopped him. Perhaps none. Perhaps several. ]

That word has started to lose all meaning.

[ But he says it with a tiny huff to soften the words into something not a criticism. It's too soon to find absurdity in the situation, but what else can he do with it? He looks down at the roses at her gesture, turning one idly in his hands. Cruel, hm... ]

...When Gorre removed my memories, for the last week before he fully took control, those were all I saw. Again and again. I thought... it would numb me to that, a little. [ Sometimes these things numb. And sometimes, it's like scraping a half-healed wound all over again. He spins the flower again in thought. ] It may be what brought my awareness back to the fight. I'm not sure. And I, ah... seem to have survived the transplant regardless.

[ There's a slight lift of questioning at the end of that, uncertainty in the metaphor. Is that what one does with flowers? ]

No such luck there, hm? [Miharu understands the mental sensation of scraping off the top layer of a wound never completely healed, even if she can no longer place it with an accompanying memory. The pain, the haunting of it, is what she remembers and knows. Michel doesn't sound like someone numbed to these things.

She wonders if it's easier for him to speak in metaphor. That, at least, would be one place they diverge. It's far too easy for her to speak plainly, meanly.]

Heh. I'm not the gardener among us. Noir would be the one for that. This may be cold of me to say, but I'm glad they were able to get through to you. [Even if it was painful, she doesn't know how she'd manage if the outcome had been any different.] But I think it'd be be unfair to expect a newly transplanted bush to flower right away.

[ It is, in fact, a little cold. But that warrants another tiny startled glance from him. He wouldn't have expected that anyone else to see it that way.

It's easier to deal with, in an odd way. The bluntness, the alignment of their views. Not feeling the need to feign enthusiasm — an emotion he's never excelled at in the first place — when no small part of him just wants to crawl back inside that door and stay there. Self pity after all. ]

If anyone is expecting that, they would be waiting a long time. I only had thorns to begin with. [ A pause, and another look at the rose, before he finally carries them over to the shelves to file. ] ...That's almost everything I know about plants...

[ Metaphor isn't particularly his specialty, either. But the sentiment behind it is a relief just the same. It's easy to breeze along in noncommittal silence until his mind seizes on the point he thinks they're both very much in accord on. ]

It would have been much worse if everything Yuui tried to do truly was a waste.

Haha. [That's about all he knows about plants...help. That's fine; she isn't good at being too delicate. He's vulnerable in a way that resonates quite harshly with her - the kind of pain you want to hide from everyone while desperately wishing that someone would notice.]

He'd say that it wasn't a waste, as long as the meaning managed to reach its recipient. [Even if Michel didn't survive being freed from Gorre's influence, Miharu thinks that Fai would still believe that; but it would be much more painful, a reminder of the unfair loneliness of the world.

As it stands, Emil and Yuui are important to her. Family is a word with almost no meaning to her, and yet it's undeniable to Miharu now that Yuui is her "family." Compared to that, she'd hardly known Michel at all...so the outcome that was best for her family is obviously the one that she'd prefer. Now is the chance for them to get to know one another.]

You're forgiven, [Miharu reminds him. Not by her, but by the others. That doesn't mean anything, though - it doesn't sweep away regrets.] Does it bother you that it's difficult to believe that has meaning?

...He probably would. You know him well.

[ There's an open question there without pressure behind it. Perhaps it was a connection from the real world, something more than half gone now. Perhaps it's private, even if not. He has little enough experience having friends in the first place, let alone understanding what leverage that gives him to pry into their friends... ]

I wonder. Forgiveness... [ He gestures absentmindedly with one rose to the cross he wears, more a goth affectation than anything at this point, and resumes stacking the flowers neatly away. ] If it has meaning to them, then I won't deny them that. What remains for me is how to atone for my own sins. Their feelings... are appreciated. But I want to focus on my own actions, from here.

[Cool cross, bro... though like many things, the actual meaning of it may have been completely lost to her by now.]

Good for you. Genuinely. [She's aware it isn't always the kindest phrase and that it's easy to take her tone for passive aggression.] That sort of thing...isn't easy to do. [Miharu still has pieces of the memory, though it's hazy as any conversation involving pieces of things that were lost, of telling Yuui how much meaning it would give her life to be the kind of person who earned someone else's love.]

Yuui and I have had an understanding as far back as I can remember; he's basically the first thing I know. I'm sure he'll understand your determination, too. In fact, you might find it's what they all wanted for you all along. [They may share few similarities on the surface, but she and Yuui are more emotionally alike than Miharu thinks most people understand. They've spent a long time guarding all but the most superficial emotions; one of them is just much better at socializing.]

[ Ugh... It's going to take him a little while to get used to that discrepancy again. Remembering so many things, when others have forgotten...

He might turn a tiny bit pink as the lapse sinks in. Fortunately, he's still turned away to focus on his busywork. His embarrassment can ideally go unnoticed by anything but the roses, who aren't telling. ]

Easier to say than to do. ...We'll see.

[ Although at this juncture, keeping his mind on actions does sound easier than dealing with feelings in any form. His own, or anyone else's. He gives her a little nod of thanks, though he doesn't turn around to look again yet. ]

He did tell Gorre that I could discard his forgiveness if I wished. I hope he doesn't consider it ungrateful. [ But she's right that he'll most likely understand. He doesn't know if that makes it easier or not. Or if it simply is one more thing to file away, and live with. ] ...I didn't intend to make you my confessor. You're strangely easy to talk to. A little like him.

Maybe I'm just going easy on you due to circumstance.

[But that isn't really true, and the moment it leaves her mouth that's apparent. Miharu herself had pointed out that her words were cold at times, and if anything she's treating him harshly now instead of coddling.]

Are you planning to keep how you're feeling to yourself, then? [He's hiding out in a storage closet, keeping his thoughts away from the scrutiny of his friends and loved ones, and he just admitted he wanted to seek her out to...what? Thank her for finding him in the dreary landscape of all Gorre's data?] I don't care if you want to make your own atonement, but I do care if it all boils over and they're hurt by what you do as a result.

[Pot, kettle, slightly... but this might be why she's able to say it in the first place. The boiling and the consequences of holding that boil and the way it feels uncontrollable and scorching are all too familiar.]

[ Michel gives a quiet snort, equal parts amused and skeptical. It's both true and it isn't... she's being gentler on him than the circumstances might warrant, considering the cost of everything that had happened. Sinclair, Yuui, Yael: people she cared about had been hurt, but she still took the effort to remind him that he's forgiven. She expected to be blamed for the door, but at the same time, she's looking out for his feelings. ]

I've already been scolded for not speaking my mind sooner.

[ Is that an answer as to what he intends to do in the future? That's more difficult to say. His expression goes a shade more shuttered, thoughtful, and he reaches down reflexively to smooth the sleeve of his jacket lower on his arm. ]

I don't intend to bottle everything up, no. ...Clearly. [ Considering how much he already poured out to her. But he can't deny the implicit accusation that he's hiding out here, which is entirely true. ] I've explained myself as best I can to... those in a position to hear it.

[ It can't, shouldn't be Fai's responsibility right now. Even burdening Sinclair and Ganymede is unfair. He picks his battles carefully, goes lightly over heavy ground. ]

Since you're so opinionated — what do you do with the things you can't tell to anyone?

[ The words are challenging, but his tone is more wry than anything. An awkward concession that she's seen him, an implicit apology for the fact. Less apology for the simple truth that that understanding suggests he's seen her in turn. ]

[Just as he caught her fidgeting earlier, Miharu notices immediately the way he tugs down his sleeve. It's a familiar movement, in an ingrained, habitual way, something she herself had felt herself doing even when she hadn't known the reason or thought she had one. It doesn't matter which direction he's facing.

Speaking her mind has never necessarily been the part that's given Miharu a problem. When it comes to expressing what's in her heart - and doing so clearly in a way that doesn't just dig as many wounds as possible. She grimaces.]

You want me to admit it's the hardest for me, too, don't you? [Well, it is, and even responded that way is the admission in itself. She's inclined to feel a little suspicious, though that dulls quickly. It isn't like he's trying to have an advantage to use against her feelings later. She can provide plenty of scolding. What she cannot supply is advice.] ... I think the methods I've used are ones I'm still trying to move on from, so let's leave it at that. If I was in your position, I think I'd channel them into the future - one where I could see myself.

[ Is that what he'd wanted? Surely, he hadn't expected her to have all the answers. Was it cruel to urge her to tell him what he can already clearly guess for himself?

He can see the shadow of Gorre's habits in all of his little mannerisms now, and it's impossible to not second-guess. She already knows better than to expect tact from him — but now, more than ever, he doesn't want to inflict thoughtless pain with his words. ]

A future where you could see yourself...

[ He turns the words over with a little ghost of a smile. The trouble in the moment is that he can't see himself at all. which is a rich thing to doubt, when almost everyone else here is missing so much of what makes them them. What a pair the two of them make. ]

...Ambitious. I was thinking that leaving behind bad habits was a high enough hurdle to begin with. [ And a little flick of a glance at her again, although he won't press. Those are wounds he most certainly doesn't want to force open with words. ] I imagine you'd be deeply unimpressed if I said something like, "if you ever need to talk," wouldn't you...?

[ And it's not as if she doesn't have much better, well-adjusted, and reliable options. Although at times that can be a challenge of its own. ]

I would, but bluntly speaking, I don't think you have enough guile for it to not be genuine about it, either.

[Talking does only go so far, and in so many increments at once, that go a little farther and then flow back like a wave. But someone who gets it is a little easier, still, than someone who she'd feel ashamed disappointing. That makes this possible now.]

I managed it once before, I think. [The contempt for herself that she's been trying to manage and work past still bleeds through there. It isn't fully healed yet. Why would she still feel this way, act this way, if it wasn't an innate part of her and not solely tied to memory?] At least, that's what I want myself to believe.

[At first she must have started wearing gloves (again?) to remind herself of something, because she'd tried to record some meaning. But she's forgotten the reason, now, too, and what it leaves now is a completely different kind of reminder.]

... So for you, shouldn't it also be attainable?

[ Ah... straight to the heart, and a direct hit. One corner of Michel's mouth twitches wryly. ]

Coming from anyone else, I would suspect an insult hidden in that...

[ With Miharu's nature he's inclined to read it exactly as blunt as she claims it is. The part of his mind that compulsively, reflexively works overtime dissecting every word and gesture of a conversation can stay sleeping. It lightens the burden of speaking to another person more considerably than he would have expected, before Fragment. ]

I managed, once. At least, some bad habits. ...It's easier if you try not to acquire quite so many in the first place.

[ Although it's probably much too late for that, for either of them. His fingers brush distractedly along his sleeve. He wouldn't flinch to show them now, faded proof that healing is possible. But he also knows full well how little that could mean. Everyone carries their own weight, and comparison frequently becomes an anchor of its own. And as he implied — it's only one axis of his habitually unhealthy coping mechanisms. ]

...It's difficult to be certain of anything, with so much missing from your memory. The mind attempts to fill in the gaps... And I wonder if at times it makes it more impossible to make sense of things. But if you believe you managed it before, then I think you should trust in that. And the fact that it is what you wish to believe isn't inconsequential, either. So... it should be attainable to do it again, shouldn't it?

[ closed ] Winter in September (October, November...) (dungeons + catchall)

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starting to wade into alluding to sh so cwing it just to be safe

slaps a warning on the log.......

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