You know just what to do to get my will to fall. [Active, Closed]
Characters: Machi Tobaye, Lorenzo Belli
Setting: Blue Kitchen
Time: Night 009, mid.
Summary: Machi is trapped between liar and normalcy--Lorenzo gives him a push?
Warnings: Existential crisis, Lorenzo, possibly some language.
It was very late. Machi sat on the counter in the kitchen--his preferred place for eating at night, his legs crossed and up away from the floor--eating soup from a blue bowl in a blue kitchen. For much of his life food and water had been scarce commodities, the most important resources which he had worked hard to get and had never had enough of. Here, for the first time in his life, he was allowed to eat whatever he wanted, as much as he wanted--but for a long time he had adhered to the rules... rules, that had been set out by the publicists and enforced by his manager, rules about what he could eat, rules that regulated how often he ate and what went into his mouth. His small size, they'd explained, was an important part of his image, was part of what made him marketable, made him his identity, 'the Pixie of the Arpeggio'--more important than his hair, his clothing, were his size and stature, his fine features, his 'blindness.'
He'd accepted that--anything was better than what he'd had.
Now he found it funny--a large, hilarious, ridiculous joke, far away and filtered through his current experiences; who cared how much he ate, except to be sure he was eating enough to stay alive? Only him--him and Anna, and she didn't know, much of the time, although she tried so.
Why did she try to?
He didn't really understand, not fully, but the joke was big enough and the frustration small enough that he could live with it, sitting on the counter in the dark, well away from the boy he'd been seeing and the dead people who had repeatedly appeared over and over in different places...
...he'd even learned to ignore that scream.
Setting: Blue Kitchen
Time: Night 009, mid.
Summary: Machi is trapped between liar and normalcy--Lorenzo gives him a push?
Warnings: Existential crisis, Lorenzo, possibly some language.
It was very late. Machi sat on the counter in the kitchen--his preferred place for eating at night, his legs crossed and up away from the floor--eating soup from a blue bowl in a blue kitchen. For much of his life food and water had been scarce commodities, the most important resources which he had worked hard to get and had never had enough of. Here, for the first time in his life, he was allowed to eat whatever he wanted, as much as he wanted--but for a long time he had adhered to the rules... rules, that had been set out by the publicists and enforced by his manager, rules about what he could eat, rules that regulated how often he ate and what went into his mouth. His small size, they'd explained, was an important part of his image, was part of what made him marketable, made him his identity, 'the Pixie of the Arpeggio'--more important than his hair, his clothing, were his size and stature, his fine features, his 'blindness.'
He'd accepted that--anything was better than what he'd had.
Now he found it funny--a large, hilarious, ridiculous joke, far away and filtered through his current experiences; who cared how much he ate, except to be sure he was eating enough to stay alive? Only him--him and Anna, and she didn't know, much of the time, although she tried so.
Why did she try to?
He didn't really understand, not fully, but the joke was big enough and the frustration small enough that he could live with it, sitting on the counter in the dark, well away from the boy he'd been seeing and the dead people who had repeatedly appeared over and over in different places...
...he'd even learned to ignore that scream.