And I've been housing all this doubt, {Closed}
WHO: Demyx (lolwaterlol), Miranda Lotto (Oldclock).
WHAT: Miranda's been bugged by what Larxene said for some time now, and needs to discuss it with Demyx.
WHERE: Demyx's home.
WHEN: Day 115, Eveningish.
There were times, she found, where she would simply sit and re-read the conflict with the woman -- Larxene, Demyx had called her -- that Miranda had only two weeks ago. It bothered her. She didn't know what to believe. No, that was not entirely true -- she knew to believe Demyx. She knew that if she were to believe anyone, it had to be him.
But Larxene's words still rang in her head, causing her to think hard on what she'd said, and truly contemplate what this situation was.
A nobody. Larxene had said this was somebody with no heart, that Demyx was lying to her and that he'd killed dozens of people before -- ... even if she knew to believe Demyx, the words still rang in her head, over and over. She'd done her best to move on and push it out of her mind. It didn't work -- but Demyx hadn't noticed. He still went on, being as charming and ... just Demyx. She couldn't describe him.
But she hadn't even heard his side of this story. He claimed he had a heart, while Larxene claimed he didn't. Miranda had just believed him, and merely asked him to come sit with her for a while. She didn't really ask to hear it. And now that she thought back on that, as well, it bothered her.
She wanted to know the entire truth behind this.
Carefully, to make sure the stairs didn't creak, Miranda climbed the stairs of the small house she shared with Demyx -- lifting the hem of her dress so she didn't fall and hit the floor. Letting go of the fabric of her dress as she reached the top of the stairs, Miranda wrung her hands together nervously as she approached Demyx's door.
Taking a deep breath, Miranda had to calm her nerves and run through the question she needed to ask in her mind once more before lifting a hand and knocking. "D-demyx?" She called out. She waited a moment, before her hand settled on the doorknob and she pushed it open and stood in the doorway. Again, she was wringing her hands together.
WHAT: Miranda's been bugged by what Larxene said for some time now, and needs to discuss it with Demyx.
WHERE: Demyx's home.
WHEN: Day 115, Eveningish.
There were times, she found, where she would simply sit and re-read the conflict with the woman -- Larxene, Demyx had called her -- that Miranda had only two weeks ago. It bothered her. She didn't know what to believe. No, that was not entirely true -- she knew to believe Demyx. She knew that if she were to believe anyone, it had to be him.
But Larxene's words still rang in her head, causing her to think hard on what she'd said, and truly contemplate what this situation was.
A nobody. Larxene had said this was somebody with no heart, that Demyx was lying to her and that he'd killed dozens of people before -- ... even if she knew to believe Demyx, the words still rang in her head, over and over. She'd done her best to move on and push it out of her mind. It didn't work -- but Demyx hadn't noticed. He still went on, being as charming and ... just Demyx. She couldn't describe him.
But she hadn't even heard his side of this story. He claimed he had a heart, while Larxene claimed he didn't. Miranda had just believed him, and merely asked him to come sit with her for a while. She didn't really ask to hear it. And now that she thought back on that, as well, it bothered her.
She wanted to know the entire truth behind this.
Carefully, to make sure the stairs didn't creak, Miranda climbed the stairs of the small house she shared with Demyx -- lifting the hem of her dress so she didn't fall and hit the floor. Letting go of the fabric of her dress as she reached the top of the stairs, Miranda wrung her hands together nervously as she approached Demyx's door.
Taking a deep breath, Miranda had to calm her nerves and run through the question she needed to ask in her mind once more before lifting a hand and knocking. "D-demyx?" She called out. She waited a moment, before her hand settled on the doorknob and she pushed it open and stood in the doorway. Again, she was wringing her hands together.