ardyn izunia belongs in the garbage bin. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
daemonized) wrote2017-07-02 05:44 pm
daemonized) wrote2017-07-02 05:44 pm
EL NYSA IC INBOX.
ardyn izunia.
[ The user you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.
Please leave a message after the tone. ]
TEXT | VOICE | VIDEO | ACTION | ETC.
no subject
[Yes, it hurts. She curls her fingers, her nails brushing against her palm. It hurts so badly, every night, every day, something she's painfully aware of no matter what she's doing. It invades her dreams and creeps up on her when she least expects it, and yet she's grown almost used to it. Like a bruise, or a trick knee; it's simply a part of her now, something she ignores because there's nothing she can do for it.
She's silent for a few seconds, and then:]
. . . but no. I don't believe you've wronged me. Certainly not the way Dorian and Richie do. You told me when we made that pact what I was going to get. Dorian imagines that I'm . . . I'm some kind of starry-eyed girl, following you around and getting nothing while giving you everything in return, and Richie--
[Well, anyway.]
I think . . . I think you do get something out of it, something more than just my powers. I think it's almost an experiment for you, seeing someone far younger go through the same things you did once. But I also believe you would lift it from me whenever I asked you to, albeit in a smug sort of way.
I told you that you couldn't handle it, I assume you'd tell me, and use that to prove your own martyrdom. You'd once again be assured that no one could ever understand you . . . and I think that above all is why I'm going to keep it for the moment.
I haven't given up on that quest.
no subject
Well. I admit it is a curiosity to see how you may handle it — any differently than I, perhaps with more grace? Or less? How long before it becomes too much, or shall it just become a baseline for you, since you’re not going to harbor more of it?
[Thousands of years ago, he had pushed through it all. The pain, the nightmares, the way his insides felt changed from the core, the way he could feel his humanity being leeched from his soul. All for the sake of others, and he had suffered so much for it. A small part of himself — the part that harbors that awful thing called regret — wonders if he had just been foolish. If she will possess more sense than that other him and choose to let go of the darkness, because she could, if she wanted to. He never got that choice.
But in the end, it’s fallacy. She is stubborn, and her motivations are different. She is wanting to understand him, but she is lacking the foundation of why he chose to become a healer in the first place — to aid others. It will never be the same, and it wasn’t the pain of the Starscourge that truly rent him in two. It was the betrayal that came afterwards, the rejection of the gods, the way his family cast him aside, tried to execute him after all he did—]
Your self-imposed quest to understand the kind of man I am will just prove detrimental to you, in the end. Do you intend to carry it with you for thousands of years?
no subject
[See? She can be flippant too. But much like her so-called husband, though her words are sarcastic, there's something serious buried beneath it all.]
It would be a great deal easier on the two of us if you'd actually talk to me and answer questions in a straightforward manner. As it is, I have to resort to using what methods I can. Tricking stories out of you and following up on vague hints is only the start.
no subject
[Yes, the flippancy does not leave.]
i cant believe you're using that icon on me how dare you
Until we have another bet, anyway. I can't imagine we won't; your victory was too sweet to pass up another opportunity.
that is literally everyone's reaction to that icon and i regret nothing
[At least he admits to it truthfully enough.]
Perhaps we'll involve Prompto again a second time.
IT'S A RUDE ICON
[She says that firmly enough. For Prompto's sake or her own? Who knows.]
Our next bet will be between ourselves only. A measure of our own abilities or wills or what have you.