Someone might knock on the doorway and if she looks up, Muraki will be just entering. "I saw your notice in the main room," he says. "I've some experience in dreaming, though it's more at the mystical end of the discipline."
He's a little too glib about it: he's avoiding something, or building up to it at his own pace.
"I am," he says, simply, looking her in the face. And as suddenly as the odd draft rises, it vanishes and the air returns to normal. "It started shortly after I reached puberty: a hunger awakened in me, more ravenous than what you usually find in young men at that age. The only thing that seemed to quiet it was, if I might put it in few words, enjoying the intimate company of a close friend of mine, a young man who looked out for me at school as if I were his brother.
"Since then, sexual contact has been one of my primary means of feeding, though I skim from the kind of energy that people emit during normal conversations or other non-physical encounters."
This is difficult for Helen. She’s not sure what Muraki is doing, and which hat she should wear. If she is acting as his psychiatrist, then she should try to help him either accept his needs (does he even have a problem with them? He must, if he is bringing them up.) If she is acting as his former lover, then…
There is only one way to find out - to deduce what Muraki is trying to do, and so she asks… “And how do you feel about that?”
The psychiatrist comes in the service of the former lover. It’s difficult to encompass, perhaps.
"At first, I found it a necessary evil: I can get by through taking bits of the ambient energy that drifts from every person in the course of their ordinary activities and conversations, but it's tricky to collect and it isn't as satisfying. It's the difference between nibbling on a protein bar and having a decent meal," he says, wagging his head. "In my world, I would get what I needed through a series of, dare I say, one-night stands with whatever willing participants I could find at various clubs and bars, often in the seedier sections of Shinjuku." With a wry smirk, he adds, "Dare I say, the rise of the gothic subculture and the fascination which the young have for the darker side, it's made it easier to find willing donors
( ... )
It takes Helen a moment to take all of this in. “It complicates everything, regardless of whether you feed on your loved ones or not,” she says softly.
It is a difficult thing for her to accept - in some ways, accepting Curtis’s excesses, accepting his evil and manipulative ways, forgiving the suffering he inflicted on others, on herself, all this was easier in a way, because while it meant she was being used, she also knew she remained unique to him.
Sharing does not come easy, regardless of what motivates it.
She looks like she’s about to say something, and is holding back.
"Mmmm, but to do so is... somewhat in the order of making a pet of the animal one is to butcher someday," he admits, sagely. "Not the most delicate metaphor, or the most accurate, since blood isn't involved -- except when I've taken blood for effect -- but it will suffice.
He looks at her, head tilted, curious. "Was there something you wished to say?" he asks.
He smirks. "No worries: I've had plenty of jests about my nature or my appearance, and the angels I may be descended from were not exactly holy creatures themselves," he says. "And I understand why you refused my request: you have your obligation to your husband, something you pledged to him. Perhaps it was presumptuous of me to ask, though mind you, the offer still stands, and I shall leave it open. The gap between us is yours to close in your time."
"Might I ask, if it isn't too intrusive, what is holding you back?" he asks. Then drawing in a breath, he adds, "Are you afraid of me?" Unspoken is the thought, Of what I am capable of doing?
He nods once, slowly. "And I regret that, being what I am, I cannot limit myself to one person. I might be able to take enough to get by, from simple contact with people, but it would be subsistence," he says. "And I cannot let myself take from you, even if I were to give myself to you and you alone." He takes this calmly, but the pilot light of hope he'd kept in his heart flickers and goes out.
He draws in a breath and rises. "I think... our session is over," he says, simply, keeping this proper. "In which case, I shall take my leave. Till another time, then?"
He'll let himself out, but as he passes through the door, a white mist encloses his form and he'll disappear from her sight, the door seeming to swing shut behind him on its own volition.
He has to be alone with this feeling of emptiness for a while, till he finds himself ready to move on.
The thought crosses his mind, sour as the thought might be, this makes it harder for Morgoth to use the woman as leverage. Or has it...? Time will tell...
He's a little too glib about it: he's avoiding something, or building up to it at his own pace.
Reply
"Since then, sexual contact has been one of my primary means of feeding, though I skim from the kind of energy that people emit during normal conversations or other non-physical encounters."
Reply
There is only one way to find out - to deduce what Muraki is trying to do, and so she asks… “And how do you feel about that?”
The psychiatrist comes in the service of the former lover. It’s difficult to encompass, perhaps.
Reply
Reply
It is a difficult thing for her to accept - in some ways, accepting Curtis’s excesses, accepting his evil and manipulative ways, forgiving the suffering he inflicted on others, on herself, all this was easier in a way, because while it meant she was being used, she also knew she remained unique to him.
Sharing does not come easy, regardless of what motivates it.
She looks like she’s about to say something, and is holding back.
Reply
He looks at her, head tilted, curious. "Was there something you wished to say?" he asks.
Reply
She pauses, looks away, breathes out.
"My husband was no angel himself, pun not intended. Yet I think you should understand why what you asked of me was so difficult to grant."
Reply
Reply
"Curtis might have been my husband," she says slowly, "but it has been so very long...."
She pauses, looks away.
"No, it was not his memory that held me back."
Reply
Reply
She looks away, shrugs.
"I never feared you," she says, slowly.
More silence, and then, quietly, "I don't share."
Reply
Reply
She's rarely been so sad.
Reply
Reply
On yours?
Reply
He has to be alone with this feeling of emptiness for a while, till he finds himself ready to move on.
The thought crosses his mind, sour as the thought might be, this makes it harder for Morgoth to use the woman as leverage. Or has it...? Time will tell...
FTB!
Reply
Leave a comment