[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.]
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no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.]