daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[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.

[He's glad to see the tension release from her, even as she explains quite evenly what it is she wants to still do. Ardyn has no issue with her sending a blood sample; a normal procedure, one that has nothing to do with making deep cuts into skin, is something that he can much more readily accept

Though if he were to be honest, even without further testing, the implications are not too difficult to grasp for. His own magic had been referenced to in his memories, and therefore it's assumed that any abilities manifesting today were present in their past lives as well. He's sure she's aware of this fact, and it feels a little redundant to point it out. But he likely will anyway.]

That's reasonable enough. However, this change in you... Is it something you remember once possessing? The ability to heal?

[Healing, unlike his own.]

...I'm not sure. It doesn't feel wrong that it's happened to me, but I don't have any memory of healing like this. So if I am to remember this, it hasn't happened yet.

[but this isn't magic like his. this isn't light and warmth and sealing things up. if it's magic, it's woven into her body in a different way. why would she have this, with what she remembered?]

It feels natural, but unnatural at the same time. I'm not sure what to make of it.

At this point, I think it's safe to assume that your past self was able to heal in a similar manner. Everything we know about these memories points to that much.

[With each passing day, it seems that their lives grow more interesting, yet the mystery only widens like a gaping, yawning chasm. Who had they all been, once upon a time?]

The implications of that, however, are puzzling, though I suppose no more so than a traveller who healed via magic. But you have to admit that your past self seemed to be quite resilient; this may reinforce why that's the case.

Strong, fast, and now able to recover quickly. I don't know what conclusions I'm supposed to draw about her, other than I envy what I remember of her reflexes.

[it's easier to analyze when she thinks about the past self as separate for the time being. what...was it all supposed to be about? a warrior of sorts? but the surroundings didn't match that idea.

and there's still the matter of that list. and the man with the same eyes.]

If this is magic, it doesn't feel like it. Not that I'd know what magic feels like, but...there's no change in how it feels to heal. It's...not humanly possible, though, not in the world I know, so it might be magic, if that's now going to be a factor in memories.

My opinion? If you don't think it feels like magic, then you should trust your instincts regarding the matter.

[Though it's verbally difficult to describe what magic might feel like, even to a man who now possesses some talent of it. A thrumming sort of energy sleeping within a person, sparking to life when utilized. An ambiguous presence, but once it makes itself evident, it's almost impossible, he believes, to mistake it as anything else.

Ardyn feels that if magic were the reason for being stronger, faster, and recovering more quickly (the latter being the case now), she would simply just know.]

After all, who is to say that magic even existed in the world you were in? Maybe you were to abide by a certain set of rules completely different than my own. Maybe, just maybe, individuals who were strong, fast, and able to heal, were not so uncommon?

[It's all conjecture right now, as it often is.]

Edited 2017-05-29 16:30 (UTC)

Individuals.

[she latches onto that word, her expression darkening a little as she considers it.]

It might make more sense, considering a few parts of what I remember, but...it would be strange no matter what, wouldn't it? Individuals with certain abilities, but why?

[He considers what to say and how to say it, taking note of her expression before doing so. He's not here to instill doubt or uncertainty, but he won't feign knowing the answers when there none to concretely be had.]

How strange it would be depends on something we don't know. A sliding scale of what constitutes for "normal" in that lifetime, which I assume differs from person to person.

[How strange were the monsters that he remembered, for instance? Very unbelievable things in Recolle, but whatever place it was he came from in his memories, they may have been considered less than uncommon.]

As for the "why" of the matter... [That's just as tricky. He can only respond based off of his own experiences with strange abilities, and even then it's limited to a single memory.]

Why would anyone need to be physically more able than the rest? And to heal from injuries uncannily fast? There must be a purpose suited for it.

[A fighter? Warrior? Adventurer? Mercenary? The guesses could go on and on.]

They face danger frequently enough to require it.

[she says it, though she's not really looking at him when her mind is beginning to move this fast, thinking about memories and trying to pull out details.]

Or they need to remain in top condition for a while yet. Those are the first things to come to mind. But this will remain a true mystery until my memories see fit to be less cryptic and actually reveal more of this bizarre story that's unfolding. I have so many questions...I don't know if I'll get answers for even a quarter of them.

[Watching her face, indicative of someone weighing options at a rather fast rate, he knows exactly what to say -- or ask -- immediately after.]

Does this bother you? [Not the not knowing bit, because that's obvious. Being surrounded by a whirlwind of questions isn't something that he likes much, either.] That you would've been physically different, more capable, than what might've been considered "normal"?

[the question is exactly one she's asking herself. while having the abilities weren't necessarily a bad thing itself, the idea of having them meant that she was different, and not in a sense that was easily swept under the banner of everyone being different in their own way. this was something else.]

It doesn't bother me yet, but it will, after I have time to think on it more. Right now I think I'm still processing the idea.

[when it sinks in that if she was so different, what made her so, if she was even changed like that at all?]

I've had to bend the rules of what I can accept and what's unrealistic and truly bothers me ever since Retrospec came into our lives. This is sort of teetering on the boundary for the moment.

RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)