Just, I'll tell you the same thing I told Abbacchio, about it. If that ever happens, listen to Rohan. Okay? I mean...if it comes down to it, or whatever happens. Whatever Rohan says is what I would want, too.
I know he's...hard to get along with. And kind of overprotective of me. But I think...if it came to dealing with that monster, you guys would all get along fine, just to get rid of him.
I'll be here, I'm not going anywhere!
And...I do have wings today, so. Don't be surprised when you see them, I guess?
[ Shit it was cordis wasn’t it? It wasn’t going to stop him, though, not when she needed the company. Or wanted the company? He wasn’t sure which it was but ultimately it didn’t matter at all.
There was an idle thought as he cleaned up, one that nagged him all the way out the door. It was enough to make him stop and pick up one thing on the way. He didn’t particularly think about the way that it looked, just the idea behind it as he knocked on her door with a small bunch of flowers in his hand.
Once she opened the door she would be faced with a wide-eyed Mista, one hand casually placed in his pocket as he held out his offering. ]
I didn’t know if it was just the wings so I thought...butterflies like flowers right? Or...shit, I should have looked it up.
[When she'd opened the door, she'd been expecting Mista. What she had not been expecting was Mista bearing a bouquet of flowers, nor the absurdist yet somehow incredibly charming rationale he'd apparently used in getting them for her.
Ostensibly because of butterflies or not, a boy brought her flowers. Just because. Just from thinking of her. And isn't that something?
The shirt she's wearing, to all appearances, is a normal thick sweater with a turtleneck; however, given that behind her the outer edges of her pink monarch butterfly wings are visible and extended, it's apparent that there's no back on the shirt in question, leaving them free to move. And she's deliberate in how she positions herself, angling so that he can't see too much of her back yet, but that's only to be expected, probably.]
Oh...!
[Startled and yet immensely pleased, she flushes a little as she takes the bouquet, automatically raising it to her nose to smell the fragrance.]
No...it's okay. I like flowers, butterfly or not.
[Her wings flutter a little, as if in affirmation, and it makes her look like even more of a pixie than ever.]
[ Oh hell, that was cute, watching her wings flutter that way. The way that she flushed was enough for him to realise the implications of bringing a girl flowers. She seemed happy, though, there was no way he was going to tell her he'd thought that she might want to eat them.
Did butterflies eat flowers? He wasn't sure, really, he didn't know much about them beyond the fact that they flew around and looked pretty. ]
A-ah, good, I thought I should bring something since you invited me over and everything...
[ He did notice the sweater, but he didn't try to look past her just yet. Her comfort level, that's what was important here. He was deeply flushed himself now, very aware that people were right and the wings did suit her. His hand came up to the back of his neck as he shifted his weight. ]
...they're really pretty. Your wings, I mean, not the flowers!
Aw, you didn't have to do that just for a visit! But I really like them, let me find a vase or something to put them in.
[Luckily, she's got one sitting on one of the end tables, so it's pretty easy to shuffle over and slide the bouquet in. Mista might recognize it, or at least guess where it came from — it's clearly blown glass from Amegahara.
When she turns her attention back to him, however, there's a light flush on her cheeks again, and her wings beat the air properly this time.]
...You think so? They're a lot easier to deal with this time! Last month they kept shedding clouds of this really troublesome stuff...even I couldn't touch it without having a problem.
[No she is NOT going to say "aphrodisiac" in front of Guido Mista. Nope. No chance.]
S-So, um. Maybe...we can sit down, and then when I...I mean, if you're really sure about seeing...the, the scars...
[ There was a pause as he thought about that, not sure what to make of butterfly wings and clouds. ]
Like the powdery stuff on them or something else?
[ Yes, for the love of god please don't say aphrodisiac in front of him. There was yet another shift of his weight as he stepped in, more noticeably nervous now that he wasn't just going to be hanging out in the doorway. ]
Yeah, yeah, definitely! We can sit if you want to, I promise I'm sure I want to see them but like I said before you have to be ready too, you know? I'm not gonna make you show me if you're not comfortable yet. Small steps, right?
Yeah, it was...um. It just, it made it really hard to be around people, because I didn't want any of it getting on anyone by mistake. I got some on myself by mistake and it made me feel...
[A beat. She visibly hesitates, running a hand absently through her hair.]
Um, just. Kind of uncomfortable.
[MOVING RIGHT ALONG. Her wings flutter as she moves, little trembling quivers, and when she finally sits down on the couch, it's with her knees pressed tight together and her feet propped up onto her toes, making a flat plane of her thighs to rest her arms on.
The hardest part, she thinks slowly, is that because it's her back, she isn't able to see the look on the person's face when she turns it toward them. She only heard Rohan and Koichi's reactions, never saw them. It's a little bit like the rule of the alley all over again, isn't it? Don't look back, only listen.]
No, I want to do it. I don't want to lose my nerve, I'm just...it's just really bad. And I'm a little scared...
[ He thought maybe he understood the type of uncomfortable, idly chewing on the inside of his lower lip. He’d dealt with his own discomfort from the moons, but he wasn’t going to press the matter further; not if it was anything like he’d experienced. ]
You don’t need to be scared, but I get why you would be. I mean, it’s a pretty big deal and...
[ He wasn’t sure how he could make her feel more at ease, worrying even more over his lip before reaching out to rest a hand on her knee. ]
What can I do to make it easier? I could show you some of mine, do you think that would help?
[ Never mind that he’d probably have to take something off, right now his comfort wasn’t important; not even if his chest was thumping just a little harder in his chest. ]
[She glances at him, eyebrows raised, surprised by the admission when really she probably shouldn't be. Why should it be such an unexpected thing, the thought of Mista having a set of scars of his own? And yet somehow the idea of letting him take the lead, of making it an equal thing, really does comfort her in a way she hadn't really anticipated.]
Is that okay? I mean, if you're willing...
[Slowly, her hand comes to rest over his, atop her knee.]
I...think it would help a lot, actually. If you're okay with it.
Yeah, of course! I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t okay.
[ That hand on top of his brought a light flush to his cheeks, letting it linger there for a moment before pulling it back and pushing the sleeve up and pointing out a few small ones on his forearm. ]
These are from some of the neighbourhood cats back home, there’s a ton of them out on the streets...
[ Those were nothing and he knew it though, pursing his lips thoughtfully before letting go of his sleeve to go for the front of his sweater. He wasn’t a mess thanks to Giorno, he was grateful for that much but years of fighting and getting shot here and there definitely showed on the skin of his chest. ]
I used to fight a lot, you know? Outside the movie theatre whenever people would talk shit on the way out. Got shot a few times...more than a few times, really.
[ It was said sheepishly, Mista glancing off into the distance. ]
It’d be a lot worse if it hadn’t been for Giorno, so I mean it’s nothing compared to yours but you’re not alone.
[Someone treated Mista's scars, she thinks as her eyes skim over the faint marks left behind on his skin. Maybe it was someone like Josuke, someone Mista had and trusted to help keep him safe, so that even something as terrible as getting shot only seemed like a temporary grievance, rather than a life-threatening one. And when he mentions Giorno, that only confirms it — so he did have someone with him, when he'd gotten those scars. No wonder he misses him so much. It must be hard, being used to relying on someone like that and then suddenly not having them anymore.
(If she'd had to do this without Rohan, or if Abbacchio were to be the next to disappear — no, she wouldn't handle it well, either, would she.)
But it helps, that he'd done this for her. He's made her feel more comfortable, made this into a mutual thing instead of a personal confession.
It's her turn, now.]
I wish I'd had someone like Giorno. Well...I did, eventually. It just took a while before he found me.
[As she speaks, she angles her body away from him, turning her back more fully toward him before taking the final step and folding her wings in, no longer keeping them extended to help obscure the flat planes of her back.
It's not just one scar, left there by the blade of Kira Yoshikage's knife. There are at least a dozen of them ripped into her skin, some narrower and flatter where the knife sunk deep in, others jagged and wider from a more reckless swipe of the blade. Each and every one of them is, without a doubt, disfiguring; some are thick and raised, others concave and off-color around the edges.
Just the sight of them tells a gruesome story. Kira had gotten cleaner and neater with his killing as he'd grown older, more refined and more professional in accomplishing his terrible aims. But he'd been young when he'd killed her, and she'd been his first — at a glance alone, the scarring makes it apparent that there had been very little finesse in what he'd done to her.
There, too, is the evidence of a struggle. The first one hadn't killed her. The second one hadn't, either. She doesn't remember how many it took; maybe that's only to be expected. She doesn't remember much of anything from that moment, except that it hurt more than anything in the world, and the carpet had scratched her cheek, and she'd prayed and prayed that Rohan wouldn't cry and make a sound.
Her shoulders are shaking, wings trembling. It shouldn't be so hard, doing this. But it leaves her feeling raw and vulnerable anyway, eyes closed and chin low, and she doesn't even realize that she's holding her breath until her lungs start to burn, wobbling on a tightrope of anticipation for Mista's reaction, whatever it might end up being.]
Nah, these all happened before Giorno, everything he helped with didn't leave any--
[ He hadn't expected her to turn right away, for her to be comfortable to quickly that she would show him without question. She'd said that it was bad and truly he hadn't known what she'd meant by that and his breath caught in the back of his throat as he let his shirt drop back down over his chest.
It felt like there was too much for him to look at, his initial reaction one the same as when he'd read what had happened the first time. Seeing it was something completely different, almost feeling like he should be counting them and not wanting to at the same time. He remained breathless, distracted only when he noticed the trembling of her shoulders and that faint twitch of her wings. He hadn't realised he was doing it, reaching out to touch her back and trail his fingers over some of them; his chest tightening when he considered that it was something she might not be okay with.
Still, he didn't want to pull his hand back, at least not suddenly. He was afraid that she would get the wrong idea, that he was repulsed by what he was seeing and the truth was so far from that. She had endured so much, she had suffered and he felt a cold chill go down his spine the longer that he thought about it. Still he found himself letting those digits of his pull over her skin slowly, delicately before he pulled his hand away. ]
...Reimi...I...
[ He wanted to hold her, to try and comfort the way that she was shaking and to help put a cap on that apprehension that was coming off of her in waves. He wanted to cry for her, or with her, whatever she needed; she deserved to have someone be with her in this moment. Probably someone better than him, but he was what she had right now. ]
...christ, I'm so sorry. I...
[ He furrowed his brow, swallowing before speaking again and reaching out to rest his hand on her shoulder. ]
These stupid wings...s-so now you see, right? Why people would be uncomfortable?
[It's strange, so strange. It's not even like she's ashamed of the scars, and she wasn't afraid to show them to Rohan and Koichi. But things are different now, aren't they? Back home, these scars were the hallmark of who she was, the defining characteristic of the guardian angel of Morioh. Now that she's here in outer space, and trying so hard to live the life that was stolen from her back then...maybe for that Reimi, the girl she's trying to be, these scars are out of place and a burden.
She's not expecting the contact of his fingers, warm and calloused and so light. It startles her enough that she has to suck in a shallow breath, jumping just barely in her surprise. But he doesn't stop; he doesn't flinch back himself, or pull away like he's been burned. He's not repulsed by what he sees; just the opposite, he reached out to touch them.
She wonders if Mista knows just how much that means, just how deeply significant that one small thing he'd done really is. These scars don't make her untouchable; he'd proved that to her, just now. She hadn't even realized she needed to have that confirmation, but now that she does, she can't imagine what she would've done without it.]
Mista...
[His name escapes her soft, halfway between a whimper and a cry, and as she turns back around to face him, she all but falls into his arms, wanting so desperately to be held.]
[ He was ready the second that she moved, arms pulling up around her as tightly as they could be while still trying to be mindful of her wings. There was an unintentional motion of encouragement as he let his hands rest fully on her back. There was nothing wrong with her, no reason to be ashamed of those scars; they were a testament to how resilient she truly was, even in the face of death.
It didn't make what happened better, it didn't make it any less upsetting or tragic but she fought. She was like the rest of them, fighting until the very end without regard for the outcome. He let out a gentle shushing sound, trying to soothe her just a little more before loosening his hold just enough to pull one of his hands over her back carefully. ]
It's gonna be okay, I...I'm here, okay?
[ He wasn't sure what kind of reassurance to offer here, all he knew is that even with all of her upset she was warm and she smelled nice and she needed desperately to be taken care of. That was something he could do, even if it was as simple as holding her like this. ]
[It's the easiest thing in the world to snuggle up to him when he draws her in, bringing her head to rest on his shoulder while her chest ends up flush against his. She feels — not tired, exactly, but a little bit like a puppet with her strings cut, finding reassurance in being able to just slump against him and let him support her for a little while.]
Yeah...like during Geistnacht...you didn't let go of me then, either.
[Which is, maybe, an understated and roundabout way of getting at what she's asking for: the same thing she'd pleaded for then, don't let go of me.
Then, it had been because she'd been afraid of what would happen if she ran out of chroma. Now, it's just because she doesn't want to lose the feeling of his warmth.]
And I'm not gonna let go now unless you tell me to, even if I have to stay here all night.
[ A true statement, he didn't need to worry about how it sounded or whether it was appropriate. Having her this close is nice and it's easy for him to be taken in by how soft she was, how warm even in a moment of distress. Another idle movement of his hand, patting her gently on the back. ]
I didn't know what to expect, but I'm gonna stand by what I said before. These are a part of you, but they're not...you. Does that make sense? Like...to me...
[ It was his thought process out loud, all of those feelings that he'd had a moment ago threatening to flood out of his mouth. ]
...to me they tell me how strong you are and that you didn't just give up. It's very...you...it really says how amazing you are and if people can't see past that then...
[ He let out a faint laugh, trying to lighten the mood just a little. ]
...fuck 'em, you know? You don't need people like that around you, ones that can't accept you for who you are. You're a good person and you deserve good things, I haven't even known you that long and I could see all that with both of my eyes closed and in the dark.
I'm just glad people can see me at all, most of the time...it was so lonely, when no one could.
[She buries her face into the side of his neck, nose bumping softly against his skin as she hangs on tight.]
I never got to find out who I would've been without this, you know...? What I would've done. How things would've turned out. Sometimes...sometimes I really hate that no matter what I do, he'll always be a part of me.
[ The feel of her face against his throat felt like something of a shock, though he was determined not to let go or even change his hold a tiny bit. ]
You're finding out now, aren't you? Your past is always going to be your past but what you do with the present and how you see the future is more important.
[ God, he felt like he wasn't really helping. ]
I've done some shit in my life that I probably couldn't say I'm proud of, but it helped me be who I am today and I think it's kind of the same way for you.
[ A hand came up to rest on the back of her head, fingers fussing idly with some of her hair and smoothing it down. ]
It's...a little bit scary, you know? Just because, if that hadn't happened, then I probably wouldn't be here right now, and I wouldn't have met you or anyone...and I'm glad I'm here and I'm glad I did but...
[She hesitates, making a soft noise of approval as she feels his fingers card through her hair.]
I'm afraid of where that leads. I can't keep going and say "I'm glad it happened", that's horrible. So I just get mixed up...
[She sighs.]
...Because I can't wish to be the person I would've been if it hadn't happened, you know? Because I don't know anything about her. But you know what that's like, right? Something big happened in your life, something life-changing, and it went one way but you're always left thinking, what if it didn't? What if it'd been the other thing?
[ That little pleased sound was enough to make him continue playing with her hair, quiet and thoughtful as he held her and considered her words. He knew that she was young when she died, but she'd had a long time to think about things, hadn't she?
Wise beyond her years but still a tragic figure. It was enough to make him think about his own past, things that had brought him to where he was now and how things had played out back home. ]
I would either be dead or still in prison, if it weren't for someone intervening...
[ It was true the more that he thought about it. He could have died that night that he stepped in to help that girl, he could have just been left in prison to rot if Bucciarati hadn't seen something in him worth redeeming. He could have died there too, the possibilities were endless and he felt his chest tighten with anxiety as he considered just how she felt, there were so many more unknown factors for her... ]
...if it'd been the other things, I mean. I don't want to say that I'm glad anything happened to you, what he did makes me sick to my stomach and you didn't deserve it. But for what it's worth, I'm glad to have met you too, you know?
I'm glad it wasn't the other things for you, either...
[She stays burrowed against him a little longer, but then eventually draws back from his shoulder far enough that she can look him in the eyes. It's easy to make jokes with Abbacchio about the mafia, to laugh when he says he's a thug and not a robin hood, but hearing Mista say something like "still in prison" brings the whole thing a new sense of clarity.
If something hadn't happened for Mista, he would've been in prison, or dead. Prison isn't so far off from what happened to her, either — the isolation, the inability to leave, the frustration at the circumstances that aligned to bring her there. Mista could've suffered like that, too, but for something that prevented it. The thought makes her shiver a little, as she raises a hand to rest soft against his cheek.]
I wouldn't like my life here nearly as much if you weren't a part of it.
[ He was suddenly very aware of how she felt against him, pink rising to his cheeks as she rested her hand on his face. Things had started out so heavy that it almost felt like it was wrong to notice how cute she was right now, how warm her fingers were against his cheek.
Deflect, that was the best way to handle it, right? There was a faint chuckle from him, hand slipping away from her hair to rest between her shoulder blades. ]
H-hey, come on, you'd probably still be having a good time if I wasn't here. You'd still have everyone else, right?
[It's sort of fun (and maybe a little mean) to watch the color rise to Mista's cheeks the way that it does when he starts to get flustered. But her intent really isn't to fluster him, and the more that she mulls over it (what's happening, what he says, how he stammers, how he looks), the more she decides to just...]
Hey, Mista.
[...be daring.]
If I promised that you didn't have to be flustered right now...that it was okay, no matter what...what would you do?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Just, I'll tell you the same thing I told Abbacchio, about it. If that ever happens, listen to Rohan. Okay? I mean...if it comes down to it, or whatever happens. Whatever Rohan says is what I would want, too.
Hey, um.
Do you...want to come over?
no subject
listen to rohan
[ ugh rohan ]
come over?
like right now?
[ of course she means right now, probably
don’t be stupid ]
yeah sure
just give me about 10 minutes and i’ll be there
no subject
I'll be here, I'm not going anywhere!
And...I do have wings today, so. Don't be surprised when you see them, I guess?
no subject
be there soon
[ Shit it was cordis wasn’t it? It wasn’t going to stop him, though, not when she needed the company. Or wanted the company? He wasn’t sure which it was but ultimately it didn’t matter at all.
There was an idle thought as he cleaned up, one that nagged him all the way out the door. It was enough to make him stop and pick up one thing on the way. He didn’t particularly think about the way that it looked, just the idea behind it as he knocked on her door with a small bunch of flowers in his hand.
Once she opened the door she would be faced with a wide-eyed Mista, one hand casually placed in his pocket as he held out his offering. ]
I didn’t know if it was just the wings so I thought...butterflies like flowers right? Or...shit, I should have looked it up.
no subject
Ostensibly because of butterflies or not, a boy brought her flowers. Just because. Just from thinking of her. And isn't that something?
The shirt she's wearing, to all appearances, is a normal thick sweater with a turtleneck; however, given that behind her the outer edges of her pink monarch butterfly wings are visible and extended, it's apparent that there's no back on the shirt in question, leaving them free to move. And she's deliberate in how she positions herself, angling so that he can't see too much of her back yet, but that's only to be expected, probably.]
Oh...!
[Startled and yet immensely pleased, she flushes a little as she takes the bouquet, automatically raising it to her nose to smell the fragrance.]
No...it's okay. I like flowers, butterfly or not.
[Her wings flutter a little, as if in affirmation, and it makes her look like even more of a pixie than ever.]
no subject
Did butterflies eat flowers? He wasn't sure, really, he didn't know much about them beyond the fact that they flew around and looked pretty. ]
A-ah, good, I thought I should bring something since you invited me over and everything...
[ He did notice the sweater, but he didn't try to look past her just yet. Her comfort level, that's what was important here. He was deeply flushed himself now, very aware that people were right and the wings did suit her. His hand came up to the back of his neck as he shifted his weight. ]
...they're really pretty. Your wings, I mean, not the flowers!
no subject
[Luckily, she's got one sitting on one of the end tables, so it's pretty easy to shuffle over and slide the bouquet in. Mista might recognize it, or at least guess where it came from — it's clearly blown glass from Amegahara.
When she turns her attention back to him, however, there's a light flush on her cheeks again, and her wings beat the air properly this time.]
...You think so? They're a lot easier to deal with this time! Last month they kept shedding clouds of this really troublesome stuff...even I couldn't touch it without having a problem.
[No she is NOT going to say "aphrodisiac" in front of Guido Mista. Nope. No chance.]
S-So, um. Maybe...we can sit down, and then when I...I mean, if you're really sure about seeing...the, the scars...
no subject
[ There was a pause as he thought about that, not sure what to make of butterfly wings and clouds. ]
Like the powdery stuff on them or something else?
[ Yes, for the love of god please don't say aphrodisiac in front of him. There was yet another shift of his weight as he stepped in, more noticeably nervous now that he wasn't just going to be hanging out in the doorway. ]
Yeah, yeah, definitely! We can sit if you want to, I promise I'm sure I want to see them but like I said before you have to be ready too, you know? I'm not gonna make you show me if you're not comfortable yet. Small steps, right?
no subject
[A beat. She visibly hesitates, running a hand absently through her hair.]
Um, just. Kind of uncomfortable.
[MOVING RIGHT ALONG. Her wings flutter as she moves, little trembling quivers, and when she finally sits down on the couch, it's with her knees pressed tight together and her feet propped up onto her toes, making a flat plane of her thighs to rest her arms on.
The hardest part, she thinks slowly, is that because it's her back, she isn't able to see the look on the person's face when she turns it toward them. She only heard Rohan and Koichi's reactions, never saw them. It's a little bit like the rule of the alley all over again, isn't it? Don't look back, only listen.]
No, I want to do it. I don't want to lose my nerve, I'm just...it's just really bad. And I'm a little scared...
no subject
[ He thought maybe he understood the type of uncomfortable, idly chewing on the inside of his lower lip. He’d dealt with his own discomfort from the moons, but he wasn’t going to press the matter further; not if it was anything like he’d experienced. ]
You don’t need to be scared, but I get why you would be. I mean, it’s a pretty big deal and...
[ He wasn’t sure how he could make her feel more at ease, worrying even more over his lip before reaching out to rest a hand on her knee. ]
What can I do to make it easier? I could show you some of mine, do you think that would help?
[ Never mind that he’d probably have to take something off, right now his comfort wasn’t important; not even if his chest was thumping just a little harder in his chest. ]
no subject
Is that okay? I mean, if you're willing...
[Slowly, her hand comes to rest over his, atop her knee.]
I...think it would help a lot, actually. If you're okay with it.
no subject
[ That hand on top of his brought a light flush to his cheeks, letting it linger there for a moment before pulling it back and pushing the sleeve up and pointing out a few small ones on his forearm. ]
These are from some of the neighbourhood cats back home, there’s a ton of them out on the streets...
[ Those were nothing and he knew it though, pursing his lips thoughtfully before letting go of his sleeve to go for the front of his sweater. He wasn’t a mess thanks to Giorno, he was grateful for that much but years of fighting and getting shot here and there definitely showed on the skin of his chest. ]
I used to fight a lot, you know? Outside the movie theatre whenever people would talk shit on the way out. Got shot a few times...more than a few times, really.
[ It was said sheepishly, Mista glancing off into the distance. ]
It’d be a lot worse if it hadn’t been for Giorno, so I mean it’s nothing compared to yours but you’re not alone.
[ He’s trying. ]
no subject
(If she'd had to do this without Rohan, or if Abbacchio were to be the next to disappear — no, she wouldn't handle it well, either, would she.)
But it helps, that he'd done this for her. He's made her feel more comfortable, made this into a mutual thing instead of a personal confession.
It's her turn, now.]
I wish I'd had someone like Giorno. Well...I did, eventually. It just took a while before he found me.
[As she speaks, she angles her body away from him, turning her back more fully toward him before taking the final step and folding her wings in, no longer keeping them extended to help obscure the flat planes of her back.
It's not just one scar, left there by the blade of Kira Yoshikage's knife. There are at least a dozen of them ripped into her skin, some narrower and flatter where the knife sunk deep in, others jagged and wider from a more reckless swipe of the blade. Each and every one of them is, without a doubt, disfiguring; some are thick and raised, others concave and off-color around the edges.
Just the sight of them tells a gruesome story. Kira had gotten cleaner and neater with his killing as he'd grown older, more refined and more professional in accomplishing his terrible aims. But he'd been young when he'd killed her, and she'd been his first — at a glance alone, the scarring makes it apparent that there had been very little finesse in what he'd done to her.
There, too, is the evidence of a struggle. The first one hadn't killed her. The second one hadn't, either. She doesn't remember how many it took; maybe that's only to be expected. She doesn't remember much of anything from that moment, except that it hurt more than anything in the world, and the carpet had scratched her cheek, and she'd prayed and prayed that Rohan wouldn't cry and make a sound.
Her shoulders are shaking, wings trembling. It shouldn't be so hard, doing this. But it leaves her feeling raw and vulnerable anyway, eyes closed and chin low, and she doesn't even realize that she's holding her breath until her lungs start to burn, wobbling on a tightrope of anticipation for Mista's reaction, whatever it might end up being.]
no subject
[ He hadn't expected her to turn right away, for her to be comfortable to quickly that she would show him without question. She'd said that it was bad and truly he hadn't known what she'd meant by that and his breath caught in the back of his throat as he let his shirt drop back down over his chest.
It felt like there was too much for him to look at, his initial reaction one the same as when he'd read what had happened the first time. Seeing it was something completely different, almost feeling like he should be counting them and not wanting to at the same time. He remained breathless, distracted only when he noticed the trembling of her shoulders and that faint twitch of her wings. He hadn't realised he was doing it, reaching out to touch her back and trail his fingers over some of them; his chest tightening when he considered that it was something she might not be okay with.
Still, he didn't want to pull his hand back, at least not suddenly. He was afraid that she would get the wrong idea, that he was repulsed by what he was seeing and the truth was so far from that. She had endured so much, she had suffered and he felt a cold chill go down his spine the longer that he thought about it. Still he found himself letting those digits of his pull over her skin slowly, delicately before he pulled his hand away. ]
...Reimi...I...
[ He wanted to hold her, to try and comfort the way that she was shaking and to help put a cap on that apprehension that was coming off of her in waves. He wanted to cry for her, or with her, whatever she needed; she deserved to have someone be with her in this moment. Probably someone better than him, but he was what she had right now. ]
...christ, I'm so sorry. I...
[ He furrowed his brow, swallowing before speaking again and reaching out to rest his hand on her shoulder. ]
...hey, come here, okay?
[ JUST LET HIM HOLD YOU, GOD. ]
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[It's strange, so strange. It's not even like she's ashamed of the scars, and she wasn't afraid to show them to Rohan and Koichi. But things are different now, aren't they? Back home, these scars were the hallmark of who she was, the defining characteristic of the guardian angel of Morioh. Now that she's here in outer space, and trying so hard to live the life that was stolen from her back then...maybe for that Reimi, the girl she's trying to be, these scars are out of place and a burden.
She's not expecting the contact of his fingers, warm and calloused and so light. It startles her enough that she has to suck in a shallow breath, jumping just barely in her surprise. But he doesn't stop; he doesn't flinch back himself, or pull away like he's been burned. He's not repulsed by what he sees; just the opposite, he reached out to touch them.
She wonders if Mista knows just how much that means, just how deeply significant that one small thing he'd done really is. These scars don't make her untouchable; he'd proved that to her, just now. She hadn't even realized she needed to have that confirmation, but now that she does, she can't imagine what she would've done without it.]
Mista...
[His name escapes her soft, halfway between a whimper and a cry, and as she turns back around to face him, she all but falls into his arms, wanting so desperately to be held.]
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It didn't make what happened better, it didn't make it any less upsetting or tragic but she fought. She was like the rest of them, fighting until the very end without regard for the outcome. He let out a gentle shushing sound, trying to soothe her just a little more before loosening his hold just enough to pull one of his hands over her back carefully. ]
It's gonna be okay, I...I'm here, okay?
[ He wasn't sure what kind of reassurance to offer here, all he knew is that even with all of her upset she was warm and she smelled nice and she needed desperately to be taken care of. That was something he could do, even if it was as simple as holding her like this. ]
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Yeah...like during Geistnacht...you didn't let go of me then, either.
[Which is, maybe, an understated and roundabout way of getting at what she's asking for: the same thing she'd pleaded for then, don't let go of me.
Then, it had been because she'd been afraid of what would happen if she ran out of chroma. Now, it's just because she doesn't want to lose the feeling of his warmth.]
S-See...I told you it was bad, didn't I...
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[ A true statement, he didn't need to worry about how it sounded or whether it was appropriate. Having her this close is nice and it's easy for him to be taken in by how soft she was, how warm even in a moment of distress. Another idle movement of his hand, patting her gently on the back. ]
I didn't know what to expect, but I'm gonna stand by what I said before. These are a part of you, but they're not...you. Does that make sense? Like...to me...
[ It was his thought process out loud, all of those feelings that he'd had a moment ago threatening to flood out of his mouth. ]
...to me they tell me how strong you are and that you didn't just give up. It's very...you...it really says how amazing you are and if people can't see past that then...
[ He let out a faint laugh, trying to lighten the mood just a little. ]
...fuck 'em, you know? You don't need people like that around you, ones that can't accept you for who you are. You're a good person and you deserve good things, I haven't even known you that long and I could see all that with both of my eyes closed and in the dark.
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[She buries her face into the side of his neck, nose bumping softly against his skin as she hangs on tight.]
I never got to find out who I would've been without this, you know...? What I would've done. How things would've turned out. Sometimes...sometimes I really hate that no matter what I do, he'll always be a part of me.
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You're finding out now, aren't you? Your past is always going to be your past but what you do with the present and how you see the future is more important.
[ God, he felt like he wasn't really helping. ]
I've done some shit in my life that I probably couldn't say I'm proud of, but it helped me be who I am today and I think it's kind of the same way for you.
[ A hand came up to rest on the back of her head, fingers fussing idly with some of her hair and smoothing it down. ]
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[She hesitates, making a soft noise of approval as she feels his fingers card through her hair.]
I'm afraid of where that leads. I can't keep going and say "I'm glad it happened", that's horrible. So I just get mixed up...
[She sighs.]
...Because I can't wish to be the person I would've been if it hadn't happened, you know? Because I don't know anything about her. But you know what that's like, right? Something big happened in your life, something life-changing, and it went one way but you're always left thinking, what if it didn't? What if it'd been the other thing?
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Wise beyond her years but still a tragic figure. It was enough to make him think about his own past, things that had brought him to where he was now and how things had played out back home. ]
I would either be dead or still in prison, if it weren't for someone intervening...
[ It was true the more that he thought about it. He could have died that night that he stepped in to help that girl, he could have just been left in prison to rot if Bucciarati hadn't seen something in him worth redeeming. He could have died there too, the possibilities were endless and he felt his chest tighten with anxiety as he considered just how she felt, there were so many more unknown factors for her... ]
...if it'd been the other things, I mean. I don't want to say that I'm glad anything happened to you, what he did makes me sick to my stomach and you didn't deserve it. But for what it's worth, I'm glad to have met you too, you know?
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[She stays burrowed against him a little longer, but then eventually draws back from his shoulder far enough that she can look him in the eyes. It's easy to make jokes with Abbacchio about the mafia, to laugh when he says he's a thug and not a robin hood, but hearing Mista say something like "still in prison" brings the whole thing a new sense of clarity.
If something hadn't happened for Mista, he would've been in prison, or dead. Prison isn't so far off from what happened to her, either — the isolation, the inability to leave, the frustration at the circumstances that aligned to bring her there. Mista could've suffered like that, too, but for something that prevented it. The thought makes her shiver a little, as she raises a hand to rest soft against his cheek.]
I wouldn't like my life here nearly as much if you weren't a part of it.
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Deflect, that was the best way to handle it, right? There was a faint chuckle from him, hand slipping away from her hair to rest between her shoulder blades. ]
H-hey, come on, you'd probably still be having a good time if I wasn't here. You'd still have everyone else, right?
[ Oh yes, expertly handled. ]
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[It's sort of fun (and maybe a little mean) to watch the color rise to Mista's cheeks the way that it does when he starts to get flustered. But her intent really isn't to fluster him, and the more that she mulls over it (what's happening, what he says, how he stammers, how he looks), the more she decides to just...]
Hey, Mista.
[...be daring.]
If I promised that you didn't have to be flustered right now...that it was okay, no matter what...what would you do?
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