daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[No, not... exactly an answer at all. He lifts a brow, only slightly, but isn't so quick to call her out on it.]

And what freedom it is once they have been unlocked.

That isn't to say that we will always be free from what others might think of us; only that it's hardly worth feeling restricted because of other people's opinions. A life in shackles is hardly one worth living.

And yet we live our lives so accustomed to the weight that to be freed never occurs. Simply a part of reality. If you take it away, who's to say someone won't be so light they'll be at risk of being blown away by the wind?

[hardly worth it. perhaps for some. who's to say what's worth it when you don't know the alternative?]

That depends; do you prefer to be chained down in security, or faced with the dizzying excitement of being free, in all the uncertainty it brings?

[Elegantly (maybe) looping his way back into his original question.]

When you phrase it like that, there's only one real answer. Freedom.

[when it's the only option, because security is...boring. something given up a very long time ago in exchange for happiness.]

[He smiles.] So then, to achieve this freedom, you must care little for other people's expectations. Self-consciousness must be a thing of the past.

A lofty goal. Impossible for some. So, again, do you consider the eyes of others your own prison?

[a short sigh. here they are again, and she has no quick escape prepared.]

You say it's lofty, but you also speak of not caring like it's easy. That's hardly fair.

[if Ardyn will give her two more seconds, he'll get an answer.]

...They're not so much a prison as...I've never not been self-conscious.

[if she says it casually and shrugs her shoulders can this be a lighthearted admission and not serious]

[Maybe Ardyn was simply born with the predisposition not to care. Or maybe it was molded into something he's become very adamant about, growing up in an environment where he was always meant to meet someone else's expectations. Maybe both. Either way, he knows it's not fair to expect someone else to feel the same way. To shrug off what other people might think, as if it were negligible, laughable, not worth their time.

But he's not pressing upon her an expectation. Ardyn only tries to understand -- and after understanding, maybe attempt to nudge her in a different direction, if Grell will allow it. Because he cares an inordinate amount. An embarrassing amount, really.]

I know it's not fair.

[That's worth the clarification, at least.]

But what does someone like yourself have to be self-conscious about?

[A sincere question. True, Ardyn may be a little biased, but in his eyes, Grell has no reason to shrink under the critical gaze of anyone else. She's intelligent, reassuring, funny, and beautiful. Her friends respect her, and enjoy her company. So, what on earth could she possibly be so self-conscious about?]

[before Grell answers, she moves over on the couch, repositioning so that she can lean and put her head on his shoulder. something about the contact makes the conversation easier.]

I could list off a dozen things to you that I believe I have every right to be self conscious about, but for the sake of everything it can all be summarized in that I'd like to be enough for people.

[brave enough, smart enough, pretty enough, all of it matching some invisible criteria so that she's gone and earned that respect from people. all so that one can be unquestionably worthy of their time and attention. she's said as much before.]

I want to be good enough for them. And there's...quite a bit that goes into that.

[Ardyn has no qualms about Grell shifting closer to him and leaning her head on his shoulder. Without really thinking about it, he puts an arm around her, as if to keep her this near. Making conversation was never difficult for a man like Ardyn Izunia, but there was something comforting in the feel of her body heat next to his own that he won't hesitate to indulge in.

He listens, his mind turning over what the implications are to being enough. To hold oneself to a standard created only in the mind, a bar that might never truly be satisfactorily cleared. They were still expectations all the same, but instead of being imposed by friends or co-workers or parents, this implied that it was born of an inward sort of anxiety. Self-consciousness derived from a lack of self-confidence.

Maybe he was wrong, but he's thought back to the things Grell has told him before. He's noted the questions and tidbits of conversation that she'd sidestep, even when they were nothing more than friends. He isn't so sure that he's incorrect.

But instead of voicing all of this, his question in return in plain. She can probably feel his fingertips pressing lightly into her clothes, as Ardyn feels a swath of fond protectiveness dart through him.]

So... does that mean, in your default state of being yourself, you don't think that you are good enough? That this is a goal that constantly and consistently needs to be worked for?

It's not very much thinking that. It's knowing that.

[his presence next to her is soothing, keeps her grounded as she says such things that ordinarily she'd strangle in her throat before they could come out and leave her exposed. like pulling back fine fabric to show skin, easily bruised without armor. this is...she hasn't done something like this in years for someone, and it's as shaky as it was before.

trusting someone. trying to believe they won't view her as weak for admitting so many flaws.]

Knowing...?

[The word is breathed out, just barely an echo of her own admission. Very rarely has he heard something so sad spoken as if it were an obvious truth. Ardyn feels that bleeding heart of his pulse for hers; he has trouble comprehending why she would believe such a thing, when all the evidence surrounding her (all the evidence that is her) points to the opposite.]

Grell... That's not true. [He'll beat back opinion with opinion if he has to; truth with truth.] Why would you believe that? Because it's quite the reverse of what I see.

[There's only the briefest of pauses, because even Ardyn Izunia has difficulties putting into words all that he feels for and believes about Grell.]

You're brilliant in all that you do, and even all that you are not aware of. Your mind, your body, the humor and kindness in your soul. All of it natural, not strained by something as misplaced as cognizant effort to be these things, despite what you may believe about yourself. The essence of who you are is a bright streak of light in an otherwise darkened room -- and I don't say that from bias alone. I say it because I believe it to be true.

You just have to be willing to see yourself that way; to let go of whatever obscures your vision from seeing what is otherwise crystal clear.

[why is he saying these things, when she's been courteous enough to let certain facts of life become known? when she states things that are part of her reality, why does he counter with this? and why does it all feel...straightforward? honest, even, like he really believes all of it.

because how much of it, Grell wonders, stems from living an illusion so completely that you might have a prayer of becoming it. how much is habit adopted a long, long time ago, clung to until it stopped being effort? she'll never know, and so never know how much of it is fake or not, how much of it became truth because she managed to convince herself how to be.

for a moment, two, she's gone absolutely quiet, trying to process all of this. she should thank him, should tell him he's being too kind, should take all these sentiments and bury them somewhere that she can keep them to hold onto on the worst days.

you aren't just saying these things, are you, she should lead with, but what falls out instead is:]

I...don't know what's in my vision. Whatever's held there.

[but she's grateful that he's here right now, not leaving her entirely unguarded.]

[The silence drifts between them, clear and easy. Ardyn keeps her near, a reassurance (no, a certainty) blossoming within him at his own words. He speaks open and honest because everything he stated he believes to be true. He knows it to be; reflecting her own sentiment, but inverse and therefore opposite.

He lightly tilts his head to lean against hers, which already rests on his shoulder. It's a gesture of both fondness and consolation. Of offered fortitude in the smallest of physical expressions.]

Well... there's time to unravel that mystery yet. In the meanwhile, just exert quiet yet steady effort in pushing through, and eventually daylight will break through those proverbial clouds.

[She need only try.]

If you begin to doubt yourself, even in that, think of what I said. And have faith in me, that I would never mislead you. Take comfort in my own confidence for your sake, if you can't yours.

[this is all she could ask for. not trying to tear down everything that's there with words and methods that don't work, but this offered support, the reminder to keep on going forward. to be persistent. that's enough to carry one through, if it's made reality. however long it needs to take, it will take. no promises but trying, and not needing to promise makes it easier.]

That might just be the key to it. Having faith in you, since for myself it's rather lacking.

[right here, right now? Grell feels safe. she was choosing to trust, and so far it was a choice that wasn't leading her wrong, despite how if you told her a year - or even six months ago that there would come a time where they could sit like this, she would have laughed. a heart is a complicated thing to have.

softly, she adds:]

...thank you.

[Grell can likely hear in his voice the way the corners of his mouth tug upwards. She doesn't have to thank him, he wants to say. He doesn't offer this advice out of a want for gratitude, but that doesn't change the wave of endearment that envelops him when he hears the "thank you".

Ardyn has the habit of giving all that he can for the sake of someone else. With Grell, this inclination manifests itself stronger than most, tenfold in its poignancy. If he's to grind down all of his emotions into their finest points, what's left is the simple fact that he wishes for her to happy. Not to doubt herself in this unfathomable way, unable to see what he sees. To think that she might believe herself to be anything less than luminous should be considered a cardinal sin.

A stubbornness of his own, maybe, born of strong affection. Perhaps even the seed of something more than affection, but Ardyn isn't so bold to give it a name just yet.

All this, and his response is simple. Plain and truthful.]

Anything for you.

[maybe he didn't need to be thanked, but she wants to give out her thanks anyway. to let him know she hears him, to express the feeling in her chest that's lighter, like there's more room to breathe. his words are something to hold onto, and not something she asked for. that makes them all the more precious. if she could clear the smoke from her eyes of her own accord, she would - but it cannot be shameful to accept that someone is offering their help in that.]

You charmer.

[she says the name more fond than accusatory, though. if he's trying to bewitch her, it's working, and if he doesn't intend it, it's working anyway.

it all applies in reverse, she wants to say. that if he doubts himself, she'll argue against it. she'll tell him the truth, both as his friend and as more. that the reason she fusses and tells him to not overextend himself is because he should know he's worth just as much care as he bestows on other people. in that, she cannot be moved.]

Look at what you've done. Here I come to you full of the fires of indignation, and somehow you convince me that it all is something to live with. I doubt anyone else could be as effective as you are.

[He hadn't been trying to charm. His priorities had been with making her feel more comfortable with herself, of making her believe his opinions even if it was only by proxy. That she would think it charming is flattering (and a little heart-fluttering), and his arm around her gently pulls her closer for a ghost of a not-quite hug -- merely the need to keep her near manifesting in the only way he knows how. Being this close, he loves catching her scent in his nose; with it comes a wave of comfort and fondness and other emotions that were too hard to quantify right now.

He lets the moment linger, lets it stretch and weave itself through transient moments of silence and calm, before he says anything.]

I've been told I have a way with words. [Faint humor hinges off of everything he utters, the tone light and airy.] Enough to put out the most flagrant of indignant passions. And though I do love to see that fire behind your eyes, there's merit in indulging oneself in contentedness instead.

[He rolls his head back, resting against the couch cushion, and it cranes his gaze upwards, casting it towards the ceiling. He has a fond, casual sort of smile on his features, and his focus is on nothing in particular.]

And as long as you're content, then so am I. [Happiness for happiness.]

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