Day 58: Arts & Crafts (Second Shift)

[scintillatingly]

It was impossible for Sora to not be in a good mood when Riku had come back (with his memories intact!). He could only imagine how Kairi was going to react when he found her, and that thought alone put a smile on his face as well. He realized that there were still some things they needed to iron out about their plans, but Riku was already on the

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[she_is_ruin]

Was he trying to say they weren't the same thing? They were all getting stranger the longer they remained as zoo animals. Yomi's feelings couldn't have been confused over one little boy who was mystified by origami if that wasn't the case.

There were many things Yomi didn't like. His insinuation, for one. What was there left to alter in her? Was she so changeable that one little push could affect her mind? "They're just words," she reminded Albedo, voice low. But it was true, wasn't it--

She'd rocked back on her heels after every blow this place had dealt her, hadn't she? A flinch. Some tears. Pain.

Just a push. He had said he could save her.

"What do you hate?"

She had been holding those eyes, waiting to see if he was looking for other interesting things besides their shared regeneration, when a ripple passed through her. She narrowed her eyes at him, as if he was the source of the discomfort. But he wasn't, not entirely, and the ripple came again, stronger than before, setting everything it touched on fire. With a groan, Yomi pushed back from the table. Not again! I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it...

Her hand vice-like around the back of the chair, she tried to lever herself up but couldn't, leaving her to fall back, breathing heavy and raspy.

[purpletaint]

Just words. But words could be used as tools, far often than not, for wasn't it this: Words could cut him sharper than any knife, more heavy than any hit against him, and the wounds they carried would not heal as easily as the ones of the flesh. Just words, and still, even here, they had meaning. Far more than he'd like, and far more, likely, than even she was willing to admit. He moved to speak in parcel and parts, mouth opening, but here instead, he watched her. Watched carefully as something changed under her skin.

He played back the moment prior and found nothing easily seen as a trigger. Not for the sharper expression, or the groan of discomfort. Or the attempt to move away and instead being locked where she was. His eyes narrowed in half-suspicion, half an odd form of confusion. The boy was silent, methods and options shifting through his mind. There was a chance this was only her, but what else could this be attributed to? There was the option of outside influence, but there was nothing to be known without the details. He blinked, then called quietly, sing-song, "Yomi..."

A name to one who was lost. Oh, yes. Albedo knew this quite well.

[she_is_ruin]

Her throat, it hurt. She remembered the pain like it was yesterday, that boy's clever way of forcing her fury and her guilt into silence. She hadn't even been able to tell Kagura she was sorry.

A cough came out a croak. She couldn't feel the fingers she had against the column of her throat, but they were there, and she could still move, and nothing about this was real. Phantom memories playing havoc. The panic, though, that was real; it kicked in her stomach like a gestating child. Not just hers, but the sesshouseki's, too. The stone was aflutter.

You let Mei die, Yomi thought at it. Why can't you make this go away?

But it wasn't real. No more real than the Institute made it. That day was over. Over. She was healthier than she'd ever been while everyone else was turning to soup in their graves. Didn't that count for something?

Pulling her hand away, she swallowed, making herself feel it.

She was... fine.

Albedo was still there, and she speared him with a glance from the corner of her eye, burning with feelings that didn't totally belong to her. "You know, I think I understand you better now, knowing how easily you can reform yourself from nothing. I had an older sister who was like that, too. It didn't work out any better for her, either. Being so divorced from your own destruction... there's nothing you can do to heal that wound, can you? It keeps festering. No one understands. And then it ruins you."

[purpletaint]

She couldn't acting more different than he had seen her, and he only watched. Even if he wished to assist, she wasn't one that he had learned to interact with in that manner, and one doesn't reach out to a wounded monster and expect kindness for that effort.

Because that was how she seemed. Right now. Wounded.

An assessment that seemed more and more correct from the look she gave him, something sharp and full of emotion, and he was intrigued really, enticed possibly, of what was the cause to this effect. What was the detail that gave her eyes such a shine, her voice the finest edge?

Her words the most excellent of truths.

Even understanding that she was caught up in something did not dull that, did not stop the boy from leaning forward, eyes caught in something unnamed. "No, there's nothing," he answered without delay, without fabrication to place in-between reality and illusion. "There's no healing for something like that. It's the universe's irony, you see? You can heal everything but the things that really matter."

Was that was it was for her as well? Was she so broken under skin and power that there was little left?

"You said, didn't you," he went on, unchanged. "There's no one that can understand things like me." His head tilted fractionally, chin slipping up. "...Things like us."

No, not that they were the same. But that both were things different, outside of the mortal coil, and therefore--unable to return to life. Unable to actually live. Unable to heal, to move on.

Ghosts, was it? It wasn't that bad a descriptor, in certain cases. Though he assumed both of them weren't content simply fading into eternity.

Not yet, at least.

[she_is_ruin]

Her body had turned traitor on her, and she had to hold her elbows to keep from shaking, from revealing just how deep the agony went. She was being sliced into a million pieces, pulled apart at the seams.

Yomi didn't know if it was the here and now or just the memory of what Mitogawa had done.

And her spiral of destruction? It really wasn't so different from this boy's, a fact she was reminded of. But he couldn't know this kind of hurt. He hadn't done what she had done. It made her instinctively want to deny that they could be lumped together. No one would ever understand her or forgive her ever again because she had crossed a line she couldn't go back from. No sisters left, older or younger. No family. No one. He wasn't like her.

But then, monsters were monsters for a reason. Redemption was a human thing.

Yomi released a breath that felt like it went on forever, letting herself hunch over the tabletop until her chin hovered just a few inches from the surface. She closed. "It's only half-true, what I said. It's your fault if you won't be understood."

[purpletaint]

There was part of him that remembered the things that made her human, made him remember when that part of him wasn't so denied. The stupid airplane. The offer in the movie store. When she wasn't herself and jumped on him in seemingly friendliness. These aspects, on another, would have led to straight-forward affection--like with Ritsuka, like with Angel. But Yomi was not them. She was more and less, and his respect for her came in remaining here, even if she didn't wish it. In witnessing, in watching, without turning away.

If he knew how to comfort her, he might have. But that wasn't the path either had yet chose.

So, in turn, when she spoke, his eyes only widened briefly in interest, before half-closing. "Almost the opposite, that," he murmured. Opposite to that which he had been using as an excuse. "Would you explain?"

sl;dfkjfhg oh god, my English fail throughout this whole thread... ;__;

[she_is_ruin]

She wished she could just shut her eyes forever. If she couldn't expel this miasma inside her, then it would be better if it were stifled, silent. Anything was better than... this. This existence.

"Why should I? I've done enough of that, haven't I?"