(no subject)
WHO: Laharl and Flonne
WHEN: Evening of June 5th, day after Laharl's chat with Chev
WHERE: Midgard Apartment 5
FILTER: Closed
WHAT: Laharl and Flonne have a serious Talk, with a capital T.
STATUS: Completed
Flonne knew Laharl was avoiding her, well, to some extent. It was impossible for him to completely avoid her, since they lived in the same apartment and slept in the same room, but he was still doing a good enough job of it that she was certain he was. Not that she was surprised, of course.
She never thought telling someone that she loved them would make her feel so, well, terrible. She couldn't deny that's what she felt, on some level, towards the young Overlord. He meant too much to her for it to be anything else. To take it back would be to lie to him and to herself. However, Flonne also knew all too well what those words had meant to him. There was one person who'd loved him and she was gone.
She couldn't dream how much it could hurt to lose one's mother, especially like Laharl had. She knew he'd turned his back to love because of it. Love had taken her away from him. He blamed love. And that's probably also why he didn't want to feel love; maybe deep down he was afraid of being hurt again. That's what Flonne speculated, at any rate. Of course, the whole being a demon factored in to some extent, but she knew there was more to it when it came to Laharl.
Lying on her bed, she stared up at the shabby ceiling, trying to figure out what to do about the whole thing. She'd been thinking a lot about it all the past few days, and still hadn't come up with any semblance of an answer. Things were rarely simple when it came to Laharl, though. Perhaps all she could do was wait for him to decide what to do about it, though she suspected she wouldn't like the answer he'd come to. Or maybe he'd just pretend it all never happened... Or... well, there were lots of ways things could turn out.
Sighing, she rolled to her side, brushing her fingers over the robot figure that sat on her side table. At least she was certain he did care about her. She knew that much for certain, if nothing else.
WHEN: Evening of June 5th, day after Laharl's chat with Chev
WHERE: Midgard Apartment 5
FILTER: Closed
WHAT: Laharl and Flonne have a serious Talk, with a capital T.
STATUS: Completed
Flonne knew Laharl was avoiding her, well, to some extent. It was impossible for him to completely avoid her, since they lived in the same apartment and slept in the same room, but he was still doing a good enough job of it that she was certain he was. Not that she was surprised, of course.
She never thought telling someone that she loved them would make her feel so, well, terrible. She couldn't deny that's what she felt, on some level, towards the young Overlord. He meant too much to her for it to be anything else. To take it back would be to lie to him and to herself. However, Flonne also knew all too well what those words had meant to him. There was one person who'd loved him and she was gone.
She couldn't dream how much it could hurt to lose one's mother, especially like Laharl had. She knew he'd turned his back to love because of it. Love had taken her away from him. He blamed love. And that's probably also why he didn't want to feel love; maybe deep down he was afraid of being hurt again. That's what Flonne speculated, at any rate. Of course, the whole being a demon factored in to some extent, but she knew there was more to it when it came to Laharl.
Lying on her bed, she stared up at the shabby ceiling, trying to figure out what to do about the whole thing. She'd been thinking a lot about it all the past few days, and still hadn't come up with any semblance of an answer. Things were rarely simple when it came to Laharl, though. Perhaps all she could do was wait for him to decide what to do about it, though she suspected she wouldn't like the answer he'd come to. Or maybe he'd just pretend it all never happened... Or... well, there were lots of ways things could turn out.
Sighing, she rolled to her side, brushing her fingers over the robot figure that sat on her side table. At least she was certain he did care about her. She knew that much for certain, if nothing else.