[She shouldn't have to - she shouldn't fucking have to put her life and her health and her sanity in danger, but the fact that she has and will continue to do so is a foregone conclusion. It's part of being a Reclaimer.]
But that's what you do on a team - you look out for your teammates.
[Turns out Wash's definitions of "My Team" and "People I Need To Protect" have a Venn diagram overlap that's almost a circle.]
[Sayori lets out a breath that's halfway between a sigh and a huff.] Miss Director thought she was looking out for us when she went to clean the closet and we all almost got eaten by some kind of demon plane.
[Which would be enough to make her point on its own, probably, but she continues.] So you didn't tell anyone else, either?
[Said without an edge, but said nonetheless. He can admit his own mistakes, especially when presented with them, but he will not cop to the Director's level of secrecy.]
[And then Sayori continues, and...fuck, that's a crossroads.]
[He could lie - he could say he told no one - and he could make this conversation better and the future potentially much worse. He doesn't know what sort of relationship Sayori and Michael have, but Sayori and Sans are friends, and with the cat this thoroughly out of the bag, Sans has no reason to keep it quiet and every reason to judge Wash if Wash asks for his silence.]
[Or he could rip the bandaid off right now and deal with the consequences.]
[It's been two fucking weeks of dealing with the consequences and he is so goddamn tired of it-]
[She bites her tongue. She doesn't say But someone still got hurt here, didn't they? She still feels hurt more than anything else, but with the fraying mess that is her relationship with Monika still holding her tight like a rope around her neck, there's some misdirected, unresolved frustration crackling to the surface.
I don't want to share too much about Yuri's personal life.
She's getting pretty sick of having these conversations.
She sniffles once and sets her jaw against the sting in her eyes.] ...next time just tell me you don't wanna talk about it instead of lying to me.
[He winces at that sniffle and buries his face in his hands. Yeah, this is worse. This is much worse.]
[I didn't lie to you is the first thing he thinks, and even he can see that for the bullshit it is. A lie of omission is still a lie, even when told with the best of intentions, and...well, this sure is a scenic road to hell, isn't it.]
[He doesn't know where to go from here. He doesn't know how to fix this. He doesn't know if he can.]
[But stopping here is not an option.]
...wouldn't that have made you worry more? If I'd disappeared and then cut you off?
[It's quiet. What's the right decision here? Because he genuinely doesn't know.]
[It's a question she has to consider for a moment, and she tries to get a grip on her buzzing nerves while she does. After some time, though, she decides it doesn't matter. She would have been worried regardless, because she cares about him. How much is an arbitrary and pointless measurement.] Maybe. But I wouldn't've been mad. Sometimes...
[Her journal rests heavily in the darkness of her bedside table's drawer.]
Sometimes you're just not ready to talk about stuff. I get that.
[He sits in the interim, finding a corner of his bedroom, wedging himself in with walls at his back and side. It's an old, basic trick, and it works, just a little bit - the small space offers security, even if the only thing he's securing himself from is his own failures. He can't run - he won't - but he can at least try find some stability.]
[The very concerned cat familiar that appoints herself sentry at his other side helps too.]
[Turns out he needs it when Sayori's next message comes through and floors him again.]
[He knew that she understood not wanting to talk - she'd handed him her journal outside of Wonderland. He'd been so damn worried about not worrying her - not adding to the burden that she'd shown him she was carrying - that he hadn't even considered it as an option. He hadn't wanted her to worry, and yet here she is, worried with an added bonus of angry, because of him.]
[He takes a breath and lets it out. Don't dwell. There's no point. Memory is the key, but regret is fucking useless, and he spent too long staving that train of thought off in prison to fall into it now that he's out.]
Yeah.
[He knows that. He should've remembered, but it's too late for that now. That said-]
I'll...make sure to remember that.
[He's good at that part, at least.]
[A beat, then:]
...I don't plan on there being a next time.
[For prison; for lying to her; for any of it. Best laid plans, sure, but he can at least try.]
[She's a pretty trusting person. She always has been, and probably always will be. And there's a fine-tuned balance between that nature and her rational awareness that everyone has a little devil of some kind inside of them; knowledge that everyone has things they'd rather hide, but trust that they'll tell her about them when they're ready. And the fact that sometimes people lie about those things fits right into that.
It was easier to accept when she was lying too.
But her tower of lies has cracked under the weight of so many things. A jellyfish playing out the memories situated in her blind spot. A Grand Relic that read the destiny in her code and commanded people to play long. An Oath that's finely tuned to even the ugliest things that she buries in smiles. Her friends from home in disparate broken states, a ticking time bomb that she doesn't know how to defuse except to detonate it herself before it can blow up in her face without warning. And...the gradual closeness she's built up with the people here—who have seen her at her worst, who know the horrible truth—and still, for some reason, love her.
And it hurts, this piece that no longer fits the way it used to into how she deals with things.
She's so tired. She wishes she could just believe him when he says that.]
...okay. [Whatever disbelief haunts her, it's not evident in her voice.] Then... Let me know if you ever need something.
I'll see you for training tomorrow, okay? [The olive branch, as it were, despite her hurt feelings.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[She shouldn't have to - she shouldn't fucking have to put her life and her health and her sanity in danger, but the fact that she has and will continue to do so is a foregone conclusion. It's part of being a Reclaimer.]
But that's what you do on a team - you look out for your teammates.
[Turns out Wash's definitions of "My Team" and "People I Need To Protect" have a Venn diagram overlap that's almost a circle.]
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[Which would be enough to make her point on its own, probably, but she continues.] So you didn't tell anyone else, either?
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[Said without an edge, but said nonetheless. He can admit his own mistakes, especially when presented with them, but he will not cop to the Director's level of secrecy.]
[And then Sayori continues, and...fuck, that's a crossroads.]
[He could lie - he could say he told no one - and he could make this conversation better and the future potentially much worse. He doesn't know what sort of relationship Sayori and Michael have, but Sayori and Sans are friends, and with the cat this thoroughly out of the bag, Sans has no reason to keep it quiet and every reason to judge Wash if Wash asks for his silence.]
[Or he could rip the bandaid off right now and deal with the consequences.]
[It's been two fucking weeks of dealing with the consequences and he is so goddamn tired of it-]
[But since when does he get what he wants?]
[...goddammit.]
I told Michael and Sans.
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I don't want to share too much about Yuri's personal life.
She's getting pretty sick of having these conversations.
She sniffles once and sets her jaw against the sting in her eyes.] ...next time just tell me you don't wanna talk about it instead of lying to me.
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[He winces at that sniffle and buries his face in his hands. Yeah, this is worse. This is much worse.]
[I didn't lie to you is the first thing he thinks, and even he can see that for the bullshit it is. A lie of omission is still a lie, even when told with the best of intentions, and...well, this sure is a scenic road to hell, isn't it.]
[He doesn't know where to go from here. He doesn't know how to fix this. He doesn't know if he can.]
[But stopping here is not an option.]
...wouldn't that have made you worry more? If I'd disappeared and then cut you off?
[It's quiet. What's the right decision here? Because he genuinely doesn't know.]
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[Her journal rests heavily in the darkness of her bedside table's drawer.]
Sometimes you're just not ready to talk about stuff. I get that.
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[The very concerned cat familiar that appoints herself sentry at his other side helps too.]
[Turns out he needs it when Sayori's next message comes through and floors him again.]
[He knew that she understood not wanting to talk - she'd handed him her journal outside of Wonderland. He'd been so damn worried about not worrying her - not adding to the burden that she'd shown him she was carrying - that he hadn't even considered it as an option. He hadn't wanted her to worry, and yet here she is, worried with an added bonus of angry, because of him.]
[He takes a breath and lets it out. Don't dwell. There's no point. Memory is the key, but regret is fucking useless, and he spent too long staving that train of thought off in prison to fall into it now that he's out.]
Yeah.
[He knows that. He should've remembered, but it's too late for that now. That said-]
I'll...make sure to remember that.
[He's good at that part, at least.]
[A beat, then:]
...I don't plan on there being a next time.
[For prison; for lying to her; for any of it. Best laid plans, sure, but he can at least try.]
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It was easier to accept when she was lying too.
But her tower of lies has cracked under the weight of so many things. A jellyfish playing out the memories situated in her blind spot. A Grand Relic that read the destiny in her code and commanded people to play long. An Oath that's finely tuned to even the ugliest things that she buries in smiles. Her friends from home in disparate broken states, a ticking time bomb that she doesn't know how to defuse except to detonate it herself before it can blow up in her face without warning. And...the gradual closeness she's built up with the people here—who have seen her at her worst, who know the horrible truth—and still, for some reason, love her.
And it hurts, this piece that no longer fits the way it used to into how she deals with things.
She's so tired. She wishes she could just believe him when he says that.]
...okay. [Whatever disbelief haunts her, it's not evident in her voice.] Then... Let me know if you ever need something.
I'll see you for training tomorrow, okay? [The olive branch, as it were, despite her hurt feelings.]