It was a good night to be out and about, really. Valentine wasn't much in the mood for crowded common rooms tonight, or even a trek through the preserve to scope out prime Fandom Chicken set pieces in the woods
( ... )
"Slashes and streaks and the tearing of paper seems to me to be all the sense that one needs when they're angry." He looked upward at the last of the sunset vanishing over the water. "From an explanation clean on into abstract venting, I'd wager. Like a ball thrown a little too high so that it bounces off the ceiling, or a reckless toss that never was intended to really be caught in the first place. It's frustrating, but throwing things and breaking things and making no sense at all despite obvious talent is sometimes just as effective as being rational and reasoning it all out, if you'll let it be."
Naminé looked at him for a long moment, then back at her sketchbook. "So I should accept it, then. I think it would be easier if I understood. It doesn't feel like a random flickering of mood. I feel as though I could rage at shadows or dragons or ... it's bubbling up and won't stay down, tonight."
She closed her eyes. "I have no right, to be sitting here subjecting you to all of this. I do apologize, if belatedly."
"Honestly, apologies do nothing for me," he insisted, shaking his head. "Might as well save that breath for something more useful, like sorting out what has you angry and why."
He picked up a pebble from the sand and looked it over. "If it won't stay down, let it bubble up. Look up at the sky and scream, if you have to. Yell and rage and let it go. There's nobody around to get upset over it."
"I keep circling that. And all I come back to is that I'm happy here, and feeling as though maybe I deserve that happiness. Which then perhaps means that I didn't deserve ... some of the ... it doesn't bear thinking about, so I'm not certain why I am." Naminé swallowed. "And I think if I screamed and raged, I would end up sobbing, with no idea why I did either."
She looked over at him. "I daresay your eardrums would be upset if I were to begin shouting."
He looked right back, tossing the pebble and catching it again.
"You're angry? And your normal method of venting doesn't help clear things up? Maybe it will help you get some of that steam off of your chest." He was giving her his best, 'no, honest, it works' look, though he wasn't entirely certain that it would be understandable through his mask. "If you'd like, I can start hollering and you can just leap in and join along. It's therapeutic."
"I don't believe I have a normal method of venting," Naminé mused. "I'm not angry terribly often. Perhaps that's the problem. I have no notion of how to do this properly."
"Well, then follow my lead," Valentine suggested. "Just wave your arms around a little and protest to the heavens with a hearty 'hoorarrrgh' or 'grrrr.' Bonus points for the arm-waving, actually. When conventional means fail you, sometimes doing something off-the-wall like this helps."
Valentine wasn't entirely certain how to deal with crying girls, so he figured it would be best to let her ... not cry. It would probably be easier on the both of them.
"And there's nothing else that helps you find that balance," he ventured, "that you might be able to use without getting terribly upset?"
"That's usually my art, which appears to be broken tonight." She shook her head, flushing slightly. "Don't worry, I shan't begin sobbing on you, I promise."
Naminé folded her arms and watched the waves again.
Valentine was perhaps slightly taken aback by that. The flush of her cheeks and that tone that she used and those words-- they were almost heartbreaking. He hated to think what in the world could leave her so self-conscious... and so angry
( ... )
Naminé looked at him for a long moment, and then laughed, not unkindly. "I think that's a wonderful idea." She leaned forward and crossed her legs under her, sifting her hands through the sand. "What sort of castle will it be?"
A shadow of sorts flickered across her face at the word 'castle'. "I made one once out of thin air. I drew it and it filled itself in, right there around me."
She wondered for a minute if he would think she was making things up.
He glanced up at her at that, looking about as curious as one whose face is half-covered in mask possibly can.
"I imagine that whatever we fashion out of sand won't be as elaborate as all of that," he decided, not questioning her statement in the least. If the sky could turn into black tentacles and kill people, then who was he to doubt that a shy young lady could make a castle out of nothingness?
He scooped up another few handfuls of sand and thoughtfuly heaped them up on top of each other. "What sort of castle would you like this one to be? I have plenty of experience with towers, but castles are a little more extravagant than I'm used to."
"The castles I'm used to ... I suppose I'm really only used to one." She sat down and began shaping the sand into piles. "It was austere. Very white, very plain, almost elegant. But cold."
Naminé packed the sand in and flattened the edges. "Does your tower have a damsel in it, waiting for someone to rescue her?"
"My tower is quite without a damsel," Valentine said, almost chuckling at the thought, "unless it's picked up some passengers since it took off without me. It always was the sort to do that sort of thing, you know?" He made little waves in the sand around the castle-to-be, trying to make a little moat without actually filling it in with water. "I don't imagine that your castle was the jump away when angry sort though, hm?"
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She closed her eyes. "I have no right, to be sitting here subjecting you to all of this. I do apologize, if belatedly."
Reply
He picked up a pebble from the sand and looked it over. "If it won't stay down, let it bubble up. Look up at the sky and scream, if you have to. Yell and rage and let it go. There's nobody around to get upset over it."
Reply
She looked over at him. "I daresay your eardrums would be upset if I were to begin shouting."
Reply
"You're angry? And your normal method of venting doesn't help clear things up? Maybe it will help you get some of that steam off of your chest." He was giving her his best, 'no, honest, it works' look, though he wasn't entirely certain that it would be understandable through his mask. "If you'd like, I can start hollering and you can just leap in and join along. It's therapeutic."
Reply
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He tossed the pebble again, thoughtfully.
"Works for me, anyhow."
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She swallowed hard again. "I feel as though if I scream, I'll cry, and I shouldn't like to, with how ... unbalanced I feel tonight."
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"And there's nothing else that helps you find that balance," he ventured, "that you might be able to use without getting terribly upset?"
Reply
Naminé folded her arms and watched the waves again.
Reply
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A shadow of sorts flickered across her face at the word 'castle'. "I made one once out of thin air. I drew it and it filled itself in, right there around me."
She wondered for a minute if he would think she was making things up.
Reply
"I imagine that whatever we fashion out of sand won't be as elaborate as all of that," he decided, not questioning her statement in the least. If the sky could turn into black tentacles and kill people, then who was he to doubt that a shy young lady could make a castle out of nothingness?
He scooped up another few handfuls of sand and thoughtfuly heaped them up on top of each other. "What sort of castle would you like this one to be? I have plenty of experience with towers, but castles are a little more extravagant than I'm used to."
Reply
Naminé packed the sand in and flattened the edges. "Does your tower have a damsel in it, waiting for someone to rescue her?"
Reply
He made little waves in the sand around the castle-to-be, trying to make a little moat without actually filling it in with water. "I don't imagine that your castle was the jump away when angry sort though, hm?"
Reply
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