daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[then I stitch it up and learn to live with it. the answer to that particular question comes frighteningly easy, but she had already considered it before she even began. that at least she has the sense to not say, as he asks another question.

she knows what he means, why he'd ask, and...truthfully she's touched. if she was being perfectly sensible, she'd say she was fine and try to shove everything off until later. that would be the correct thing to do. and yet:]

Yes.

[even if she'll tell him not to, to spare him the pain.]

I'm technically still at work, if you don't mind.

[thankfully, the hospital has signs to direct people. and this is an hour where no one will notice nor care.]

[Of course he doesn't mind. A part of him had half a mind to find her even if she had told him "no", and so it's an almost-relief when he hears the affirmative instead. Only almost, because he hates to hear that she's sporting some type of wound even now. The fact that it's healing faster than normal has no bearing on his concern.

And so he tells her he'll be there straightaway, and Ardyn follows through. She doesn't have to wait long, and the hospital is easy enough to navigate. No one asks any questions, which makes him even more expedient in finding her.]

Where's the injury? [-is the first thing he says to her when he does, drawing near with a frown etched into his features. Eyes scanning over her expression, trying to get an idea of what might be going through her head right this very moment.]

[she's standing at one of the tables, deep in recording her notes when Ardyn finds her, a subsection of the ones she's begun keeping on strange happenings in general and patients. personal reference, in case it comes in handy some day. Grell hears Ardyn come in before she sees him, but she doesn't look up until he's next to her.

when she does, she looks more serious than she usually does, somewhat tense, and she crosses her arms in front of her when he asks.]

If I show you, you'll try and heal it, and it'll cause you pain.

[which she doesn't want. she can bear these for a few days more.]

And?

[What irony that the word is being reflected back at her, when it was him not that long ago who had to endure it. Regardless, the remark is far from being snide. The easy dismissal of his own well-being is sincere and indicative of his worry.

He searches her expression again, setting his jaw. There's stubbornness there, in the both of them, and he's very much aware of it.]

The pain will fade and your wounds will be gone. That's all that matters to me right now.

[A beat.]

At the very least, don't hide from me what it is that you've done to yourself.

...I'll show you. I don't consent to healing yet.

[because as much as she had mentioned him testing things before, the idea of causing him pain through things she was taking full responsibility for didn't sit well with her at all. she can heal from this. no need for him to take it upon himself.

but she pushes up her right sleeve so that he can see the bandages there. only her forearm, and the wounds properly dressed. she was hardly going to make it harder on herself to heal.]

Two cuts, one deeper than the other. They were meant to confirm the fact that the rate of healing is constant, meaning more serious injuries take more time. Meaning that whatever's changed, it's simply been sped up.

[and yes, they had hurt - do hurt - but she's firmly ignoring that part for herself.]

[When she says it like that, that she flat-out hasn't given him her consent to heal, there's little that even his stubbornness can do in the face of it. He'll honor her wishes, but already his mind is stringing together words into sentences that might convince her otherwise. The pain won't be that bad for me or It'll be done quickly or It's important that I do this for you, because it's all I can do.

None spill out when she shows him her forearm, wrapped neatly in bandages. A hand reaches to gently take her wrist and pull it close to him, the other rests at the bottom of her elbow; Ardyn is lifting her arm up so that he can examine it more closely, even if he can't really take measure of the wounds. He can only imagine the two cuts that she describes.]

It must hurt. [His gaze lifts to meet hers.] Please let me be of some use to you.

[He can implore her for now. Later, he'll worry about reiterating how bad of an idea this was.]

Edited 2017-05-26 06:58 (UTC)

[it should be enough, shouldn't it, to see the bandages there. tell her that she's foolish for doing this, get her to promise to not do it more than this, but showing it like this means I'll take care of it. she's handling it. she has crazy ideas, but she'll be fine. everyone can rest easy and not have to unnecessarily stress about something not that important.

and yet. and yet she can tell in Ardyn's look that it's not truly like that, and if she insists on shouldering it, it'll be more drawn out than actually letting him help would be. which makes this all that much harder, knowing that he came here because it's not enough to simply know that she has it in hand.]

You don't have to do anything to "be of some use" to me.

[she says it softly, but she doesn't look away. it's not about being useful or useless, in her view. Ardyn doesn't have to do anything, other than be himself.

part of being himself, apparently, is this. her resolve cracks like glass. fine, she'll concede, in the face of all of that.]

Does it require direct contact to work?

[In his memories, he had travelled the land, healing the sick and taking into his body whatever it was that ailed them. It was heavy, painful in a subtle kind of way; eating away from within like something acidic, languid and churning and alive. He remembers that he had chosen to shoulder that burden out of endless empathy and a duty that he couldn't remember. Then, he had been willing. Now, when faced with something so much more innocuous in comparison (two cuts on the arm of someone he cared for), his willingness is just as potent. His resolve to help just as unwavering.

It is a part of him now, this ability to heal. It slots quite nicely into that side of his personality that only a few are privy to, the eagerness to help others at his own detriment. (A bleeding heart, indeed.) And so he only shakes his head when Grell states that he doesn't have to do anything to be of use -- it may be true, and she may believe it wholeheartedly, but if Ardyn can do more to ease the pain, then so be it. She only need accept the help that he's so eager to give.]

And yet... I'm not the sort of man to stand by and do nothing.

[Fingertips at exposed skin, just at the edges of her bandages.]

This proximity would be suffice, I think. [It had been in the past, all of twice that he's tried. But he pauses, soon adding:] But I would like to see your wounds as I heal them, just to be sure that it works.

[she nods slowly, pulling her arm back so she can undo the bandages for him. she's agreed, and she keeps her face deliberately neutral as she takes them off, breathing slow to help with the pain that comes with touching near to them. the cuts are neat and straight across, the precision of scalpel incisions and a deep red. Grell's careful, knowing they're new enough that if she's too rough, they could start bleeding again.

it's his last chance to yield to her point of view, to let them heal over in time, because she knows they will. you don't have to do this is again on this tip of her tongue, but she bites it back, trying to allow him to help her like he wants to do.]

[The bandages are carefully peeled away to reveal two even cuts, scarlet red across her skin, and Ardyn's brows pinch together at the sight. All he can think of is how she might have done this to herself, how she might have believed indulging in this kind of experiment couldn't be disconcerting.]

Grell... [An utterance of her name that's mild in its disapproval, drowned out by his concern. His fingers brush against the proximity of the cuts, never so bold as to draw too near -- they still look raw, at least to his relatively untrained eye.

His mind is set at this point, of course. He had explained to her, previously, what it had been like for him to heal his brother, and now she gets to experience it first-hand. The first noticeable sensation is a feeling of warmth where Ardyn touches her -- an easing of the sting of the wounds, spreading in a gentle wave. And then there's the glow, bright and almost iridescent, shining at his hands.

Slowly but assuredly, her skin will begin to mend itself, leaving no signs of scarring. He feels it then; the sting of two clean cuts on his forearm (though he knows nothing is there), pain stinging. He purposefully schools his expression to show nothing, and the only thing that betrays this flowering of transferred pain is the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth.]

[even as he'd described it, nothing truly braces her to see it in real life, to experience it. the warmth washing away the pain, lessening it with every heartbeat. the brightness that strikes her as almost divine in its radiance. and the way the impossible is taking place, and her injuries are mending before her eyes.

the pain leaves, and unconsciously she relaxes, eyes wide in amazement. from bright sharpness to the persistent ache of wounds and now to the relief of nothing. of being whole and healed in the way she was ready to wait for. it's incredible. the only word to describe it is what it is - magic.

but magic that costs, and he may be stoic, but she knows he feels it. whatever she felt, taken into him. I'm sorry, she wants to say, three times over until it's better, able to go and fuss over his well being instead of her own. when it's gone, she looks from her arm to him, and the apology that she feels is written all over her face.]

Thank you.

[for the healing. and for coming to see her in the first place.]

[Even after the magic fades, glow receding and flickering away, his touch lingers. A close examination shows no signs of the cuts that had been there prior, and a twinge of relief filters through his mood upon seeing this. (His arm, it hurts, but he's ignoring it. Blatantly. It's not important right now, and it'll fade soon enough, surely.)]

You're welcome. [He lifts his eyes to look at her, catching nothing short of an apology in her look. Grell doesn't need to wear that expression on her face, he thinks. He had offered to help, and he would offer a hundred times more in the same situation. In a worse situation.

He exhales, letting go of her arm. He should feel more relieved than he is, but something lingers in the atmosphere that disallows it.]

We should talk about this, you know. [The healing done, now the conversation can begin properly. His hand, belonging to the arm that hurts, flexes a little as he speaks.]

If there's a next time you're greeted with another... change, I don't want you hesitating to tell me. That you think I would judge you for overreacting is a misrepresentation of my character. You know I want to help you.

I do know, but...

[she pushes her sleeve back down now that it's all over, straightening out the cuff and keeping her eyes on it for a moment to try and piece together what she wants to say.

it's not about him judging, it's about her wanting to make sure it's something to go to all that effort about instead of something more important. about being able to say she had it handled if she could handle it. what if it had been a fluke? what if she would have been winding not just herself but someone else up for absolutely nothing at all? embarrassing, she had said, and that part was still true. not only in front of him, but in front of everyone. it isn't what she wants to show.]

I didn't want you to have to worry unnecessarily. I wanted to be able to give you fact or a pretty solid hypothesis - something more than a might be, something definite, before I asked for help.

[because that's worthwhile for bringing up in regards to her. then all the effort has a reason.]

[From a purely logical standpoint, her explanation makes sense. She certainly wouldn't be the first or last in human history to hide something for the sake of not bothering someone. And yet, how often does the opposing party actually appreciate not knowing? Wasn't it only natural to want to know, even if it amounted to nothing in the end? People who truly care exist to offer support, even if it's only in the form of shared commiseration. This, he thinks, is where her reasoning falters.

But there's something else, too, a well-hidden sort of issue that he can't quite put his finger on. The implication that she would not want him to worry because it might be some kind of imposition -- or maybe, as she stated before, embarrassment had been the keyword. Ardyn, a man to whom "embarrassment" is very rarely applied to, wholeheartedly believes that this emotion often (not always, but often) is a result of caring too much about what others think. (Or of what he thinks? Is this the case?)

A moment passes while he tries to read between the lines. Usually an easy task for him, but he proceeds gently this time, watching her expression.]

...I hope you don't think that you're not worth the imposition to tell me immediately? [That statement is the equivalent of casting a wide net, in hopes of bringing something back to shore.] Of course I'll worry, there's no getting around that. But I'd rather be told than be blissfully ignorant. Just as I'd rather be someone to lean on, than to have you worry whether or not it'd be a waste of my time.

[even a well placed mask slips, and the way she breaks eye contact when he mentions thinking you're not worth it, glances to where she'd left her notebook, is telling enough. her shoulders set a little straighter, not saying anything until he's done. she's good, but Grell isn't perfect, especially if someone's looking. she knows better than to say anything, is better at shrugging things off than looking them in the eyes. concealment and moving past is a constantly adjusting thing, and she wants to redirect into something else. something different that would let this settle into quiet. but Ardyn has a way of working with words that she thinks would lead them back anyway.

(again, but not again.)

Grell exhales, pushing up her glasses, wishing she had something witty to say.]

Okay. Next time, even if it's nothing, you'll know. That I can assuredly promise and hold to.

[Many people consider Ardyn a man who enjoys filling his sentences with overindulgent words. Pretentious and flowery, statements that could easily be parsed down into the same idea with even a modicum of conciseness. To them, they consider it nothing more than fluff; fancy ways of saying something mundane. Sometimes, they're right.

But there are times when he uses them with far more purpose, coaxing and softly prying. Gently wheedling at whatever lies under the surface, to bring it forth into the light. He is annoying adept at it, most notably when someone is decidedly not trying to talk about something.

This may be one of these cases. But first, he addresses what she does tell him.]

Good. I feel better knowing that.

[A quiet moment, and then he addresses what she doesn't.]

You are worth it, you know. It shouldn't be so difficult for you to believe.

[but it is. the words linger in her throat, and she takes a breath to push them down. this is the sensation of things being pulled persistently out from the shadows where they've been resting, and she puts her hand on the table to steady herself.]

You're biased.

[the words are soft, and while her lips smile, the expression in her eyes doesn't really match.]

I know how much I'm worth. Truly. I'm not going to ask for more than that from anyone, especially those I care for. It would end up being a pain.

[she shrugs, fighting off the idea in her head that the best thing right now would be to simply stop talking.]

[And yet Ardyn is of the opposite inclination. He needs no motivation to keep talking, though he remains cognizant of his tone and selective of his wording. The way she steadies her weight into the table, the way that her eyes don't match the smile; he's trying to gently pull at a thread to unravel whatever's there, without being thoughtless. He inclines his gaze at her, as if trying to persuade her into looking at him.]

You say I'm biased, and I say that you're not at all giving yourself enough credit. Your worth amounts to far more than just a molehill, unqualified to "bother" someone with your concerns.

[How does he go about saying this? Perhaps in a way that's very Ardyn.]

Your worth is a shrine that someone should feel honored devoting themselves to. A beautiful, shining thing, inspiring respect and adoration and affection. And I'm sad that you cannot see it the way I do -- not biased, but rather unclouded by doubt.

[he's talking, and part of her wants to scream at him to stop because there's only so much a single person can take hearing before it's too much, it can't all be taken in with a smile and a yes, I accept that now and ease. a downpour when one expected rain, sudden and happening and-

Grell realizes she's stepped forward to pull him into an embrace after her arms are already around him. and it's selfish to demand this but she doesn't care, needs the reassurance that he absolutely is here and what she heard was not imagined. it won't fix anything, time is needed, but it's something that isn't what she tells herself on a regular basis.

it's not fair. it's not fair that things she has handled with enough grace for years are things he cuts through the shields of and sees, and god. this, things like this are what she was embarrassed of.]

...I didn't want you to see me like this.

[she didn't want anyone to see it, but him especially. why would she, when it runs so counter to the image she wants to show everyone? confident and poised and as he's put it, striking, it doesn't fit with this. if it won't go away, the next best thing is wait for it to disappear.]

[The pressure of her arms around him is sudden and surprising, but Ardyn gives absolutely no protest. Half a moment passes while he considers how to react and what to say, and the other half is filled with her admission, making his decision for him.

His arms wrap around Grell's body in return, and there’s nothing transient about his presence. He’s there for her, all height and broad shoulders, just as real as the sincerity of everything he’s said. She says that she didn’t want him to see her like his, but Ardyn can only think to himself that he wants to be privy to all sides of her personality, the complete whole of her self — insecurities and all.

Fingertips gently press into her shoulders as he decides to just... stand and hold her for moment, and some idle part of him notes her warmth. He lowers his chin, and practically breathes out words into her hair.]

And why not? I want to see every part of you.

[His lips curl into a gentle grin, subtle movement that she might be able to feel.]

If you need to crack and crumble, let me be here for it, so that I can hold you up.

[why not? because it's not like the woman she wants to be. she's too old for this to still be on her mind, to still be something that can't be handled by casual methods. they've been friends for far longer than this dating has been going on, and yet...she just doesn't want to go and ruin a good thing by turning out to be different than expected. but that's all hard to say. being held helps her keep breathing, and Grell closes her eyes for a second, feeling that - he's smiling, he has to be.

crumbling's not possible if she wants a prayer of maintaining any illusion she can keep things mostly covered up. falling apart is a terrifying prospect, even with Ardyn, and if she actually did...]

Not everything you'd see would be pleasant to deal with.

[she'd rather be supporting him, all told. Recolle was supposed to be a way to leave things behind, building up a life that had nothing to do with any of that, things being new without the attached years behind them. so far, it had been working, somewhat.]

Enough goes on.

[changes, remembrances, their own lives. why add to it?]

[That's the thing about human nature; that every individual has their flaws, that not every moment of their existence is brimming with confidence or conviction. He doesn't expect this hidden side of her to be perfect or even flattering, for why try to hide something if you were to be proud of it? But keeping it all to oneself, built up and pressurized and crystallized until you're bursting at the seams, or conversely, letting it eat away from within... Well, that was hardly the way to go about it, either. He wishes to be that pillar of support, for no reason other than he can and wants to.]

That's hardly an excuse. [Because an excuse is what it is. As if he couldn't make room in his mind, in his priorities, for her, in the face of everything. What a silly notion.]

Why does everything I see have to be pleasant? Those would be expectations both unreal and unfair on my part.

[Utterly unfair to her, he thinks.] I won't turn tail and run, if that's what's worrying you.

[he says that, and yet, how true is it? it's standing on the border between one side and another, trying to not let go and run back to what was familiar, shutting everything back out. a solid attempt at this is all she can promise, not changing overnight. but if he does mean it, the least she can do is try.]

...Okay. I'll trust you on that, Ardyn.

[if he's sincere, if he can look her in the face in spite of all her flaws, once they become known, well then. that would be something. for now, it's a promise, one she does want to believe in. one she'll see whether or not it holds up after he has the entire story.

she hopes it goes without saying that it's mutual from her. if their roles were reversed, if he was the one practically hiding in her arms, she might say the same words. that's been the case for a while now, after all.]

[And that's all he can really hope for, isn't it? Her trust. He doesn't expect anything to change overnight, just as he doesn't expect for her to dismiss what must have been familiar to her for many years now. But it's to Ardyn's credit that he means what he says, and he's willing to prove it to her when the time comes.]

That's all I ask for.

[And so he lingers like they are for a moment longer, letting it all settle in, before he steps back to look at her face properly. They may as well still be in an embrace, with how close they still remain standing next to each other. Ardyn's grin is quiet, soft.]

Now then... [His eyes move to her forearm, where the bandages had been wrapped around just moments before. He's nearly forgotten about the pain of his own -- it's faded prominently now, only pinpricks of what it had been before.] Can I convince you to stop with these experiments, as well?

[the experiments. they'd nearly been driven out of her head in the moment, in the absence of pain and having to resist the urge to completely shut that line of conversation down. but they had been the start of this and why he'd come over in the first place.

technically, she has enough data to draw some conclusions. ideally, she would have finished the one in progress, but, this happened. she isn't smiling, but the tension's left her for now, which is a vast improvement.]

Yes, but I want one last thing. I want to give over a blood sample to a specialist to see if they can detect anything abnormal.

[Lucian will agree, she's sure, and taking blood is a painless procedure with no risk of lasting harm. much, much safer than her self conducted trials.]

Then I'll let this be. No more that come from me.

RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

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