Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Sat Oct 01, 2011 9:23 am

Allen was freaking out nearly as much as Cosim. For once, he felt very much his age--if there was something he wasn't, it was an obstetrician. He'd never dwelved into that area of medicine, and had never wanted to. Now, suddenly, he very likely did not have a choice.

"Yes, I'm sure--she didn't tell me, I-I felt it--" His hands were shaking slightly, and he suddenly wished he had a whole pack of cigarettes. "No, she doesn't know, yet..."

If he'd been in the mood for making smart comments, he would have recommended that the thing to do was to use a contraceptive, next time. However, given that he was being shaken so hard that his spectacles fell off of his nose, he wasn't much in the mood for cheekiness. Pushing the other man's hands off of him, he readjusted the pince-nez and retorted, "I don't know! I'm not a midwife, I don't know anything about babies!"

Taking a moment to breathe, he rubbed his temples and laid out their options, "I'm going to be honest: I don't think she's anywhere near healthy enough to be having children. And the baby will probably have health problems, too. I could abort it, but it would have to be within the next few days." If it got anywhere past the implantation stage, he had no idea what to do. "And it's her choice, in the end..."

They would just have to hope she'd have enough of her wits about her to realize that a baby was the last thing she needed.

--

"Definitely." He joked--though it just as easily could have been a serious answer. What kind of lover, in the physical sense, did she expect him to be? He had no idea.

Deciding quickly that just feeling wasn't enough, that the dress was inhibiting him, he slipped it off of her and tossed it aside. He didn't know how to remove the corset, and probably couldn't have, even if he tried. So he left it up to her, not knowing what to do with it. It didn't bother him, either way--though he was curious as to what it was.

She was quite thin, probably enough that she wouldn't have fallen into most men's idea of a desireable body. But he wasn't most men; he was anything but picky, so long as they had a pretty enough face. And she had prettiness to spare, as far as he was concerned.

After holding the kiss for quite the moment, he paused for breath and, taking her question literally, replied as he acquainted his hands with her body, "An island, surrounded by fish as big as mountains--and the mountains themselves are just giant bowls of liquid fire." He pulled her undergarments away, slowly, "In the summer, the ground touches heaven, and you can't see through the clouds. In the winter, everything is so white that you almost forget what color is. And anywhere you go, there's the ocean--everything smells like the ocean." He smiled. The truth was stranger than fiction.

--

Diederik had woken up feeling considerably better. The day up until that point had been harrowing, to say the least. But now that he was rested, he felt the bulk of the stress and negativity ebb away.

...That is, until he faintly heard a familiar voice from down the hallway.

"I don't need the pity of an ignorant gaijin--!"

Oh, no. No.

Whereas he'd been contently staring at the ceiling before, he sprang up in bed, ears strained. When the door clicked as the key turned in it, he flinched slightly as his concerns were confirmed. How, how, how on earth had Vesna crossed paths with perhaps the only woman from his past that he didn't ever want her to know about?

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, so that he was sitting on the edge, he cleared his throat, "Who was that...out..." He gestured towards the door, unable to finish.

What had Hanako told her? Obviously, Vesna had brought her back for a reason... He was willing to admit to a lot of his wrongdoings--if nothing else, he was a straightforward man. But he didn't know if he could admit to this one. Not to Vesna. The apprehension and embarrassment was clear on his face, already dreading what he was supposed to say. What could he say?

'Yes, I had sex with a thirteen-year-old girl--I paid for it, in fact'?
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Sat Oct 01, 2011 8:38 pm

It was a harrowing decision-- endanger herself eventually, or be rid of most likely the only chance she would have for a real family. Most harrowing of all, there was no way to help her with it-- more than that, Cosim didn't know what he thought about it all yet. There was no way he would pretend he could have a say, anyways. All he could do was apologize.

"Okay..." He finally exhaled, and looked over at Sonya. "You can go-- go rest, or something. Please." The younger man looked like a mess. "When she wakes up, I'll tell her and... Well, we'll see what happens." He gave a weak shrug and sat down next to her bed again. "Thanks... I'll find you later."

Burying his face in his hands, he was practically making his head hurt over it all as he waited for her to come awake.

------------------------

She couldn't help but let out a delighted, confused laugh at his response. What was that supposed to mean?

While he was preoccupied with, well, her, she pulled his belt away and slowly pulled the zipper, relishing in the fact that with someone like him, she could take her time. But when he began telling her exactly where he came from, she had to pull him closer, resting her cheek in the crook of his neck to hide her smile. He was so... Simple. She never wanted him to know that the fish were really whales, that the mountains were volcanic, that his heavens were just fog... She wanted to believe the way he did, that everything was so simple.

As he talked, she kissed his shoulder, and, taking his hands gently under hers, guided him to the fasteners of the corset, and pulled them apart one by one. "You're the first one that gets to do this," She murmured in his ear. "You take my breath away..."

--------------------

As soon as she saw his face-- that face that told her he knew exactly what she did-- her anger went away, replaced by unsettling fear that possibly, probably, she had again made a horrible choice. She didn't know how to make good choices in a place like this over something she so wanted.

Her lip almost trembled as she tried to gather her thoughts. She stayed in front of the door, wanting to run to his arms and say there was someone she knew who had done something unspeakable-- but perhaps he was that someone. Who did she have to run to? "There's... There's someone out there who says you..." She couldn't say it. He knew, she could see that. "Tell me why it's not true... Please..."

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Sun Oct 02, 2011 10:04 pm

((Gonna have to do a timeskip, because I cannot, in good faith, pretend like one regains their senses so quickly after an operation. xD))

A couple of days had passed, and Sonya was finally off of the morphine that had clouded her mind. It was taking her a while to get her wits back about her, and she still didn't quite understand what had happened--but she did at least remember things like the fact that she was blind. It was embarrassing to know that she'd said such stupid things, while addled. ...Or at least, she would have been, but she was still too exhausted to be at the point where she was remembering to feel shame.

At least she was finally able to sit up a little, with plenty of cushioning behind her back. It still ached quite a lot, but she was starting to feel better.

The doctor and Cosim, on the other hand, seemed considerably worse off, these days. She couldn't understand it. The former was starting to smell like cigarette smoke (she asked him about it, and he only explained that he'd quit, before...which she supposed meant he'd started again, for whatever reason), and sounded tired and stressed all the time.

It was like she'd gone to sleep and woke up to a world where everyone was upset about something she didn't know about.

--

If she had informed him of how misinformed he was about...well, most of how the world worked, he would have been notably perplexed. And then he would have laughed at how little he really knew. What else could he do, but laugh?

Of course, he might have been too distracted to bother with perplexion or laughter, all things considered.

Undoing the corset, following her lead--it was difficult to resist just ripping the whole thing off--he pulled it off to reveal her entire body. It struck him that he was perhaps the first man to ever see all of it, and it only served to make him want her more. Shuddering lightly in excitement, he traced down the hourglass of her figure with his lips and his fingers, which continued down to trace inbetween her thighs.

As they did so, he returned his mouth to hers, as if to swallow her gasps, her sighs--to literally take her breath away.

--

"Vesna..." He stood up, wanting to say something...but he couldn't. Not just because he had few words, but because there truly was nothing to say. Except for the truth. "I can't..." He mumbled. He couldn't tell her it was false, because it wasn't, and neither could he explain his side of the story. Anything he said could and would only make it worse. A heavy silence fell over the room.

Meanwhile, Hanako stood outside, listening. If she really wanted to, she could probably make a run for it now, while the blonde woman was distracted. But she would do no such thing. Quietly, patiently, she waited to hear how the episode would turn out.

If she had to, she would let herself in and surprise him, force him to look her in the eyes. If nothing else, he would be attracted to her for even the briefest of moments, possibly ruining his relationship with this other woman. She would do just about anything to repay him for what he'd done to her, at this point. But by the sounds of things, it was very possible that karma was about to catch up with him, at last.

(Of course, she didn't know about his eye. And she wouldn't have thought it sufficient to pay for his crimes, even if she did.)
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Mon Oct 03, 2011 10:57 am

The past few days, Cosim had run through a series of either nightmarish or beautiful scenarios, never in between. She could want to have the baby, and somehow die-- maybe something bad would happen to the kid, too. Or, she could have the baby, and finally have someone love her-- someone who wasn't a criminal, someone for whom she would be the whole universe, and she wouldn't need to grieve over a family she really never had.

She could choose to not have the child, and something might happen in that process. She might live with the guilt for a long time-- and god knows she didn't need any more guilt.

Even as he was getting her breakfast, the usual, people commented on how preoccupied he seemed. He just shrugged weakly and moved on-- no awful feeling could compare more to the guilt he felt about forcing the choice on her, and seriously injuring her in the process.

Stepping into the women's car for the nth time in the past few days, (thank god there weren't many people in their beds by this hour) he decided it was the time to tell her-- after all, how much time was left? Kissing the top of her head, he mumbled a "good morning" before taking a seat on the bed next to her, moving her hands to place the bowl in them.

After a long, weighted silence, he began, with a slight waver in his voice, "Sofia... There's something important...really important, that I have to tell you-- that we have to talk about and..." And what? He had no idea.

He took her hand, his own probably cold and most likely trembling. It would happen to any man. "You don't know it... But the doctor was checking up on you a few days ago... Sofia..." There weren't many more ways he could stall.

"He said... You're... You're pregnant." He almost added an "I'm sorry" to it. "We need to talk about what you want to do..."

--------------

And gasp and sigh she did-- more than she ever had, of she ever did. Her first full breath was in ecstasy, an outcry pent up for ages. It was freeing, in a way-- as if her body was only an exoskeleton, cracking and stressing with emptiness filled with noxious dark matter, finally escaping and saving her from eventual destruction.

So, invigorated with something new, yet now empty, she felt she needed all of him more than ever. With uncommon heaving breaths, she begged him, pleaded him to love her more, to make that darkness disappear forever.

-----------------------

"No!" She cut him off almost angrily. That couldn't be it. Of course tree was a reason. There had to be, he wasn't the kind of person to do anything without reason. "Just--- just let me think!!"

That woman was small. She still looked like a child to Vesna, even now. And she herself actually looked years older than when she was 13.

"There's no way you would... You wouldn't want that kind of..." It didn't make sense. "Just tell me..." She was thin and tiny and (at least to Vesna) almost flat and...not very nice. There had to be a reason.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Fri Oct 07, 2011 12:08 am

As soon as the first two words came out of his mouth, she could tell that he was still in a strange mood over something. It really was just unnerving, not knowing what was going on--perhaps he was just down because of the state she was in? It seemed plausible enough.

But when he continued talking, she felt her heart quickly sinking lower and lower into her stomach, as she realized that something was very seriously wrong. More so than she imagined. By the time he mentioned the doctor checking up on her, in an ominous tone, she looked frozen, her face ashen. The words hit her like progressively more violent waves, preceding a tsunami.

...Which was why, when he revealed to her the last thing she'd ever expected, she didn't react at first. Didn't even comprehend what he meant.

Her first reaction was more or less the same as his was. She laughed--high-pitched and strained, but a laugh--at the sheer nonsense of what he was saying. What on earth was he talking about? She couldn't be pregnant, she wasn't capable, she couldn't be... But it didn't sound like some kind of terribly inappropriate joke, and why would he even say something like that, if it wasn't serious?

The bowl slipped through her fingers into her lap; she couldn't feel her fingers, anymore. She couldn't feel anything. A look of panic was slowly dawning onto her face, and she struggled to find her voice, "Wh-what...? What do you... No..."

It couldn't be happening. She wasn't ready for a child, and had never asked for one, in the first place. It felt like her head was spinning, and her voice got progressively louder and shriller as her breaths started coming too quickly, "What do you mean? What are you talking about?? Why are you telling me this--why are you lying to me, Cosim!?" Her voice choked towards the end, as hysterical tears began welling up in her eyes. She was spiraling headfirst into denial.

--

He was only too happy to comply...after teasing it for a bit. It would have been a lie to say he didn't enjoy her reaction. But he had a limit, and once he couldn't push it anymore, he gave himself over to her, more than he ever had before. 

Because this time was different; with girls he barely knew, it wasn't like he had to prove anything, or even try all that hard, if he didn't want to. But they were already emotionally invested in each other, so he had to make sure that the other side of the relationship was just as fulfilling. Not to mention...however long he'd gone without the touch of a woman, since she'd arrived at the carnival, had been far too long, by his standards. He was ravenous.

When he finally dropped next to her, in exhaustion, he took a moment to let his heart settle down before turning to her. One hand draped across her waist, he curled a ringlet of her hair around a finger on his other hand, joking between breaths, "So...do you still love me?"

--

It was easy to shut up when she snapped at him--after all, it wasn't deviating much from the norm. Still, he felt and looked bewildered. Out of all the things he did that she forgave or didn't even care about...or was it all just adding up, and she couldn't tolerate any more? It wouldn't have been surprising, honestly.

Still, for once, he found himself scrambling for some sort of explanation. The truth wasn't so easy to admit to--even if some kind of weird hypnotism had something to do with it...who wanted to admit they'd lusted after a thirteen-year-old? It was embarrassing.

"I...I did want--I mean..." He wouldn't have paid for it, if he hadn't wanted it. It would've been nice, for once, if he were better at lying. "It's...hard to explain."

The doorknob clicked open, and, quietly, the Japanese woman in question stepped in, taking care to close the door behind her just as quietly, as politeness dictated. Turning, she gave a very short bow (anyone who knew bowing etiquette would have seen that it was practically an insult) to Diederik, and then, to both of them, "Excuse me, but I must insist on intruding, at this point."

Having been listening to the conversation, she was convinced that this other woman was, while still ignorant, just another unfortunate victim of his. She must not have known before, how awful he was--later...she would swallow her pride and apologize for getting angry. Later. Not in front of Van Aemstel. For now, she could no longer stand there and listen to him ruin another woman. Someone had to intervene, before it went too far.

"Van Aemstel-san... Ara ara, ohisashiburi desu ne? It must have been a long time, if you have misplaced an eye, since I last saw you."

He didn't respond--he only looked off to the side as far as he could, suddenly feeling nervous. It would be disastrous if he accidentally looked at her, and...

But she was all too aware of this. Her steps small and measured, she approached not him, but the side of the bed, "Have I become so unsightly that you will not even turn your face towards me? But you are usually so good at looking into people's eyes." Still, he did not respond--though he was getting slightly red. Everything about this situation was awful.

"It's understandable, I know you do not want to be ashamed in front of your lady friend," she traced a delicate finger over the metronome, "But you know, I can't help but wonder if deceiving her so shamelessly," she looked down at the instrument indicatively, "makes it difficult to sleep, at night...?"

Of course, she knew he slept with it--it was common knowledge, amongst anyone who knew him. No one but him actually knew the real purpose of it, though. Rounding on her, he was about to deny that it had anything to do with Vesna, but in his moment of carelessness, he found himself locking gazes with trouble.

For a moment, he stood motionlessly, transfixed.

And then it all happened so fast that he barely knew what was going on. The same feeling from so many years ago: a sudden rush of an intolerable longing. It wasn't even of a sexual nature, but it manifested into a terrible need. Everything he wanted and needed in life...he needed to touch it, taste it, make it his, because he was a greedy man. Even though this time, he knew it was an illusion, he found it impossible to not want. A floating, perfect world, filled with everything he needed. Hidden, in her eyes. Inside of her.

Hanako's cries of horrified surprise (to her credit, she had not expected him to actually make such a blunder) were muffled by his mouth, as she pushed at him in a vain attempt to get away. But he overpowered her so effortlessly that she might as well have just stood still. Almost in a frenzy, he scrabbled at the elaborate knot holding her obi in it's delicate shape--and which kept her dress from simply being pulled off. It was like he'd suddenly lost his mind.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Fri Oct 07, 2011 1:01 pm

He wasn't sure what to expect. Definitely a degree of panic, but he didn't know how it would come up. Hurrying to get the bowl away from her and the burning food off of her bed before she got hurt (again), he scrambled to say something that not even he knew or could convince himself of.

Setting the bowl aside, he hurriedly took her face in his hands, most likely too roughly, and told her in a measured tone (the panic had already passed for him, after all). "You know I would never lie to you...!" (about this) "Listen-- Sofia, LISTEN TO ME."

Taking a deep breath, figuring due to the panic, she would need some help with reasoning. "The doctor can... Can get rid of it, but there isn't much time left." He let it sink in while wiping her tears away when they fell. He was still looking for some way to apologize. "So you need to calm down and think... Is that what you want?"

He would have told her that the past few days he'd been knocking the idea around in his head and had decided if the chance came up, why not embrace it? But now it seemed she thought the opposite.

--------------------

Had she ever really felt as much with anyone else? Probably not. Touching her hand to her forehead while she caught her breath, she noticed something odd. There was sweat on her. Actual sweat. That had certainly never happened with anyone else (which said a thing or two about the men she'd been with before--). Frowning, she showed him the evidence, just a hint of a smile on her face. "Look what you did," She whispered (she was too tired to speak normally, really), shifting to get closer to him. "I'm not sure what to think about it."

After finally catching her breath, she sat up and found her corset after a minute of foggy-minded searching. Taking one last deep breath to the top of her lungs, she re-fastened it on her torso-- she could only physically go so long without it. While she was still up, she replaced her undergarments (because if piter barged in once he could again--) and then lied back down next to him, looking considerably more somber. Though she didn't think her body was much to be listed after, there was ways the chance that once he got what he wanted, he would leave her all alone.

Fiddling with the buttons on his discarded shirt, she murmured, "Of course I love you..." She couldn't fathom why she'd ever stop. Especially not because of this-- if anything, it cemented her feelings for him even deeper in her heart. Raising her gaze to him, she finally asked, "...Do you think you still love me...?"

---------------

His excuse finally got a sob from her. "If it's hard to explain, then explain...!!" Didn't he know she would believe anything he said? "I might not get most things, Diederik," She began, hurt, and ashamed of herself for having to admit it-- she understood perfectly why people had sex. It was how she made her money. "I know what happened perfectly well. I just don't understand why. And if you can't tell me that, then... Then I guess I should go. I don't want to be with a stranger." It didn't make much sense, but it was how she felt. She wouldn't know whether she was spending her nights with the man she knew, or a pedophile. And then, what could she trust? What else did he lie about?

Before she could get an answer from him, the Asian woman appeared at her side (how did she even get in? She didn't hear anything), making her jump. More than she thought she couldn't trust Deiderik now, she wasn't sure the woman's movements and speech were even human.

Vesna couldn't even decide who she should believe. The woman was so broken up about what he might have done, but now... She seemed almost sinister-- and was that fear in his eyes?

Anger surged up in her over this... This harpy again-- but it seemed something else surged up before she could get rid of her anger. With a sharp scream, she got out of the way of the two, hardly believing what she saw.

This wasn't Diederik. That was the last thing he would do. It didn't add up. It was only when he looked at her. She had an inkling of what happened, but she was sure it was all the woman's fault.

Sucking in a breath, she fought the urge to just let him take her for all she'd said about him-- her, even. She was still hurt about being called poor and nameless. Finally deciding, she rushed up, pulled his hands off, and shoved herself between them, grabbing the tiny woman and pulling her out of the room, locking the door behind them. Hopefully whatever happened would wear off. In the meantime...

She lifted her arm and sent her hand sailing across the other woman's face, and shoved her against the door. "I don't know what you did but you better fucking know how to end it...!" She couldn't hide the desperation in his voice. "Or trust me-- trust me-- I will end you. I don't care who you are and obviously you don't care for shit about ruining my life, so I shouldn't care about doing the same... RIGHT?" This was her last chance. She didn't want to die poor and alone, too old to do the only job she knew. She would fight anyone who wanted to make that happen, even indirectly.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Sun Oct 09, 2011 4:38 pm

She hiccuped and struggled to hold back distraught weeping when he took her face, and though she wimpered when he told her to listen, she did indeed grow quiet enough for him to talk. Slowly, one breath at a time, she calmed down, though the anxiety within her prevailed.

"Get rid of it...?" She echoed, voice hollow. 

She felt hollow, inside. Hollow, except for something growing, filling her in. So she did think about it, a calm growing over her entire frame--the little frame that now housed a life. A new life, a beautiful fresh life, born of a broken and sad body, a life that needed her to be alive...

Reaching up with one hand, the other draped (perhaps unconsciously) protectively over her stomach, she waved around for and found his face. With another stiffled hiccup, she attempted to smack him, but in the weakness of recuperation, it wasn't even a forceful pat. A dry sob tore through her throat at her own lack of strength.

"Don't...don't talk about it...like that." Her voice trembled, but grew a little more firm, "It's not a...a thing! It's alive..." Crying quietly, she held her stomach in both arms, "Don't hurt it, it's not a thing..."

She was still slightly addled by the exhaustion of surgery, but she knew that she would stand by her decision, no matter what.

--

He kissed the sweat off of her forehead--it satisfied him. "I did warn you," he murmured with a grin, too tired himself to even laugh, for once. It was a good kind of tired, for someone who was normally so energetic.

Watching her, content to not move much for a while, he soaked up the last vision of her exposed figure before she covered it up again. That was his, and only his, to treasure. One thing was certain: he hadn't gotten everything he wanted. Because he was going to want it again and again, probably for as long as he lived.

When she professed her love for him again (oh no, she looked so serious--didn't she know he was pulling her leg?), and in turned asked about his for her, he kissed her greedily. Licking his lips, as if to confirm the taste, he pretended to think for a moment, expression ponderous. A corner of his mouth tilted upwards (he couldn't help himself; he was always inclined to smile), and he growled into her neck, "I could just eat you up..."

Sighing, he ran the bridge of his nose up to her ear, murmuring, "But I love you too much for that. What am I going to do?"

--

When she intervened, Diederik stumbled back, dazed, but still under the spell. It was only vaguely, in the back of his mind, that he knew he had really just screwed up big time. Or perhaps this was simply the final blow of karmic justice being dealt to him.

As for Hanako, she stiffened upon being slapped, but otherwise did not raise even a finger to soothe her smarting cheek. She was no stranger to being hit--she was beaten and thrashed with the switch on more than one occasion, as a child. Back then, she would have dropped to the floor and wept with apologies. But now, her training had made her too proud to allow herself to react.

After a moment of willing her eyes to not water from the stinging, she turned her face to the much taller woman's, calmly, "It will wear off in perhaps a day or two, in my absence." Her voice ran colder than ice water, "If I had the knowledge of how to 'end it', know that I would have done so long before now." It was not something she enjoyed, and she couldn't fathom who in their right mind would.

"Thank you for helping me a second time. And I apologize for showing anger, earlier," she would have bowed, but having her shoulders pinned made that somewhat difficult. "For your sake, it might be prudent to consider which of us--myself or him--is actually the one who is most willing to ruin your life." Her tone grew softer, more melancholy, "Take it from someone who already has been ruined."

Perhaps twofold. She could not complain that her career as a geisha had been highly successful (and partly in thanks to Van Aemstel), but she could not say it was what she truly wanted out of life. 

It was with some envy that she looked at this woman who was free to fall in love, to be with men outside of her brothel, to look, dress, and act how she wanted, to follow her own rules of life, to even leave it behind and start anew, if the opportunity arose and she was willing... And yet she chose to be with the most horrible of men, anyways. It was baffling, and maybe even a little enraging.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Sun Oct 09, 2011 6:27 pm

It seemed he had misunderstood her emotion. Or, misinterpreted it or... He didn't know what. He wasn't sure what the appropriate reaction was supposed to be. He ached to hold her-- she looked so afraid. Holding her was the only way he knew how to give her comfort.

Her light pat seemed like enough of a slap to him. Taking her hand, he held it there before kissing her palm and chose his words carefully. Despite that there was a long, new road ahead, he felt considerably more calm. It was over-- there was no secret hanging in the air over him, he wouldn't have to see her cry over it again. Maybe she would even find it something to be happy about.

"Okay," He accepted the admonishment. "I'm sorry-- it's not a thing. It's your baby... Our baby." Letting go of her face, he ran a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes. "Don't cry... Please don't cry..." He had to laugh a little. "I'm going to be a father... Doesn't that sound funny...?"

-----------------------

She couldn't remember the last person she'd been so casual with. Usually she was serious, but around him... It was impossible to be. Maybe it was a good thing, but she was still getting used to it. He made falling in love seem like a fling....

...Or was it supposed to be that way?

All her thoughts were pushed aside when all she had to think about was that kiss. It wasn't appeasement, it wasn't just pleasant, it was something else. She didn't have a word for it yet, and she wouldn't ever figure it out if she kept getting kissed that way.

His words tickled her neck and rattled the pearls around it, and she giggled despite herself, mumbling breathlessly, albeit with a smile, "Why can't you be serious..." She was already losing control of her thoughts. "Don't... talk like that... It's unseemly..."

Weaving her fingers through his hair, she held him close. "You never want to be serious with me..."

-----------------------------

"For your sake, it might be prudent to consider which of us--myself or him--is actually the one who is most willing to ruin your life."

She hadn't thought about it before. He'd taken her in, sure-- but to what ends? He'd only said she was beautiful and he wanted her to stay. She had created her own meaning to that, hadn't she?

Letting go of the other woman's shoulders, she stared at the door behind her, realizing that behind it, despite all of her speculation, was a man she hardly knew at all.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry that I hit you," She replied. "I was afraid."

Dropping the key on the floor in front of the door (someone would find it), she looked sorrowfully at Hanako, almost as if she mirrored her feelings-- and really, she almost did. "I'll take you back... I'm not sure I can stay here, anymore.."

Gesturing for her to follow, she walked out of the hallway and out of the inn altogether, heading back down the road to Mystique. She wondered if it would be the last time she saw him-- in a fervor for another woman.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Mon Oct 10, 2011 11:38 pm

For once, his comforting did nothing for her--she couldn't stop crying, though the tears came silently now. She didn't know what to feel. It should have been happiness, maybe, but all she was getting was fear and sadness. Fear that happiness was in reach, sadness that she could easily fail to grasp it. And drag down another innocent life, with her.

"It doesn't sound funny at all," her voice had so many tremors, it could have been measured on a Richter scale, "What if something's wrong with it...?" She was afraid to tell him about the radiation that she thought had prevented this from happening, to begin with-- Little did she know, he knew quite a lot more than he let on.

And then, a new conclusion formed in her mind, "Is that why I'm sick?" She was still confused over what happened, but she remembered being sick--her back was bandaged, too, but she couldn't make the connection, there. "Because of...the baby...?" It was a strange thing to say.

--

"Oh, I didn't even mean it that way, you know," he teased, kissing under her jaw slowly, "Maybe I really want to eat you up--I don't usually like sweet things, but..." (he had to think for the correct phrase) "I could make an exception."

When she complained that he didn't want to be serious, he couldn't help but break out into laughter. If he wasn't being serious with her, then he was at the height of silliness with girls before her--he'd never been so serious, in his life. Still chuckling, he pressed his lips to hers again, looking her in the eye, now.

"I'm being serious," he argued, quelling his mirth and pulling a hurt expression, "You're just not taking me seriously--" But he wasn't very good at pretending, and the smile returned almost instantly, "I'm seriously in love with you."

--

Piter was having difficulty. Not with making the actual faces--he could eventually muster up some expressions. It was knowing whether they looked genuine or not. Maybe they could fool normal people, but Franze was no fool; she knew him well enough not to fall for his tricks easily. And he was still having trouble with one of the most important expressions.

He simply could not make himself smile in a non-disconcerting way. Pushing up the corners of his mouth with his fingers in frustration, he wondered bitterly what was so wonderful about her new plaything (he didn't suspect that it was anything serious--she always had some man she thought she was in love with, but Piter was the only one so far that hadn't left her). He was lacking in height, intelligence, and class, as far as the Russian could see. The only thing he had was a bunch of unchecked emotions and that stupid smile.

Well, two could play at that game. He would just be a better friend than the slow one was a boyfriend.

But this smiling problem was stumping him. He tried to think of something that would make him 'happy' (that was the prerequisite for smiling, after all)-- Tapping his knee stiffly in measured agitation, he imagined one of the (non-nightmarish) dreams he had: forcing a marriage on a man he vaguely disliked and making the couple to spend their wedding night naked in the winter, in a palace made of ice. Even the bed was made of ice. Yes, that was amusing. That was downright humorous, even. He made a face and checked it in the cracked mirror--

...No, something wasn't right. That was more of an...evil smirk. He dropped it.

Clearly, he wasn't thinking of the correct kind of happy. But did he really know what 'happiness' was, as other people defined it? For the first time, he considered that he was not only incapable of understanding that warmth, but of doing a decent impression of it, even.

To sooth the anger boiling just beneath the surface of his ice-palace skin, he played a minuet from his childhood in his head, fingers fluttering over the keys, in his mind's eye. And-- ...Ah. There. He peeked into the mirror from under a half-closed eyelid.

That was it.

--

Gathering herself up after being released, she directed her gaze back towards the ground, and quietly accepted the apology, "It is understandable."

Well, she had gotten her revenge on Van Aemstel, albeit not in the way she'd expected or hoped, and now... Was it her responsibility to support this woman, in her grief? She did have a part in causing it--though to her mind, she'd saved her from a world of pain, later on in life. But they were, in a way, sort of like comrades, she guessed. In the loosest sense.

Walking beside her (which was no small feat, with her shuffling steps), the geisha (or was it ex-geisha, now? That was a terrible thought to bear--) held her back straight, her head steady, and addressed the taller woman with an enduring calmness that bore the scent of sympathy, "When I was a slave, in the okiya"--that in itself, was not something she admitted to freely--"I was told: 'The weak are meat, and the strong eat.'"

For a moment, she was silent, making sure the proverb sunk in. "But it is not so. The weak are meat, and the cowardly eat. The strong ones bear their hunger with dignity. ...If you feel you are hungry, even if it pains you, even if you should want to die from it, it means you are stronger still." A little more softly, "Is it understandable, to English?" 

It was perhaps a moment in which she should have given some small comforting touch, but she was always drawn to herself. Comforting words and touches did not exist, in her world. She was cold to women because women had always been cold to her. She was a thing to admire and nothing more, to men, because the flower and the willow was all they ever wanted to know. So it was all she ever showed them. And beneath all that, there was someone else entirely, who wore makeup and hairpins like samurai armor.

After a moment, while looking away, she admitted with some difficulty, "It is not simple for me to express such sentiments in the same way that a Westerner might--I apologize for it." Maybe even her apology was too wrapped up in formalities.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Tue Oct 11, 2011 3:39 pm

"You weren't sick because of the baby..." He finally had to admit it to her. It would be better for her to know the risks. Burying his face in his hands, he began, "You're weaker than you think... Alot weaker. You got sick because you couldn't fight infection... You know... When your back got hurt." With a slightly trembling hand (all this was making him realize how disturbingly overly-mortal she was. It wasn't easy to not worry) he placed her hand on the bandage on his arm. "The doctor had to replace part of you..." He had been teetering on the edge of a breakdown eversince he'd inadvertently injured her. Now he was finally going over the edge. "You... You were so badly hurt... And it was my fault." All he wanted to do was love her. "And now this..." There was no way to hide the cracking in his voice.

There was a moment of silence. "Allen is a good doctor..." Then almost inaudibly (it was unclear whether he was talking to he or himself), he mumbled, "Please don't cry... You'll be fine... Please..."

--------------

Eyelids fluttering at the kiss, she tried to gather her thoughts. "In terms of you... which is more believable...? Cannibalism, or...?" what was she saying?

She didn't doubt that he meant it, just that she thought from experience that one had to be serious when discussing love. But then again, none of the others before him had actually loved her. Maybe she wasn't taking him seriously, like he said. Whichever it was, she couldn't fight with his smile. It was like opium.

"As long as you mean it," She whispered into his lips before kissing him one last time, and sitting up. "I'm... Going to take a bath. Don't follow me if you're thinking like I know you are-- I don't think I can do this twice in one day." Plus, after she bathed, she would try and find Piter. If he had gone this long without bothering her, then he was causing havoc somewhere else.

So she stood and dressed (after telling him to put his own pants back on) before adding, "And we need a bed next time. Or something." After stopping to kiss him once more, she left the tent to get soap from her trunk in the women's car. She only needed one bucket of water to wash herself-- not to mention it was all she could lift.

Once she was done, she re-dressed and headed to find Piter. Wringing her hair out on the way, she passed through the whole of the place (he better appreciate this--) before finding him next to a mirror. Alone-- which was surprising. She found herself beaming at him-- she was happy, whether he was or not. "Hey, Piter--" She sat next to him and hugged his arm briefly. "He loves me~ I knew it!"

----------

"I don't understand it," She confessed-- a lie. "I'm an idiot." she frowned to keep her lip from trembling and caught her tears before they could fall as she walked down re road. In a way, it didn't make sense. Why would one deny themselves their happiness? Then again, she didn't know if she was supposed to be happy this way. She certainly tried to be. Unsure of her feelings towards the woman, she just mumbled, "Thank you, though... I don't know what I'm doing." In a way, freedom was no good. It gave way to bad decisions that alone she could not pull herself out of.

"No one can be as bad as you say..." She murmured, though she didn't sound convinced. But if the woman said anything after that, she wouldn't have caught it-- she had found Dimitrie and was rushing to him, immediately bursting into sobs at his shoulder.

He didn't know what it was, but he was sure he wasn't going to find out right then. She did it often-- by then he'd realized that even after he comforted her, she would still keep whimpering and upset the other girls. So for the nth time, she would be sleeping in his bed that night (lucky too-- he was given a substitute car for the time being). But who was that behind her?

The Asian woman looked familiar, but wasn't one of his. Shame. However... Since Bourbon was gone, every woman there was fair game, if they needed money. Over her shoulder, he informed, "You can take an extra cot and stay with the other girls-- we can talk tomorrow." He didn't know it yet, but she probably had useful skills-- ones that could get men to pay without even touching her.

After a moment of awkward silence punctuated by sobbing and incoherent babbling (she would ask for a solution to her problems later-- but he wasn't understanding her at all), he led her into his car-- he wasn't going to get any sleep. And it wasn't the kind of sleeplessness he preferred.


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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Wed Oct 12, 2011 5:36 am

At first, a kind of hurt indignation flared up in her heart when he told her she was not only weak, but weaker than even she thought. Why would he even say that? But as he talked, it became apparent that she was missing a huge piece of a much bigger picture that everyone else could see. And not only because she literally couldn't see.

What was this about her not being able to fight infection? And part of her being replaced? Replaced with what? What could feel the gauze on his arm, but couldn't begin to comprehend what it meant. Her head began to spin.

And then, slowly, it came to a halt, when his voice cracked. There was something unbearable about it. Not only because he was a grown man, and because she loved him, but because he was normally the 'strong' one, the one that didn't break down while she fell to pieces all over the place. It was difficult to listen to, and she found a lump growing in her throat as he pleaded for her to be okay.

"Cosim," she murmured softly, swallowing to make her voice steadier, "I'm not crying..." It was true; her tears had dried up once her head had begun to spin. Holding his hand in hers as tightly as she could (it wasn't easy; her whole body felt limp, these days), she said quietly, "It's okay...I love you, remember? More than the universe?" It was okay, and it wasn't okay. Nobody ever said that love was as rational as the equations she poured over in her special car.

--

Secretly, he was a little disappointed--how did she know exactly what he was thinking? Oh well, maybe he could help her to get used to doing it twice a day...or multiple times. Depending. He didn't let it show, though, and simply saluted her with a grin as she left to go wash, pulling his own clothes back on.

Piter hadn't a clue when to expect Franze to come looking for him (he guessed that she would--she didn't trust him not to do something terrible...and not without good reason), but he certainly hadn't expected her to do it with wet hair. He couldn't even fathom why she'd randomly decide to take a bath, at this time of day. But perhaps it was best not to question it. It wasn't the thing that he was most concerned about at the moment, anyways.

"He loves me~ I knew it!"

"You haven't the slightest idea how ecstatic that makes me," he replied stiffly, through his teeth, with his usual dry snark.

There was little doubt in his mind that it was a lie--after all, they'd all been lies, before. He didn't know if the men in her past not truly loving her spoke more about them or Franze, but he did know that it was how things ought to be. They weren't allowed to love her, to his mind. And perhaps, as a friend, he should have been upset at the dim one for being another liar. But he wasn't. Besides the fact that it would have been highly hypocritical, he only hated the man for taking her away--men could lie to her night and day, if they wanted. When the truth came out, it would only make her less eager to try for love, again. Less eager to reject him, in favor of another man.

It was an extremely selfish way to feel, but since when could he be accused of being anything else?

If he wanted to gain the upper hand on her idiotic lover, though, he'd have to become better than him. Uncertainly, he attempted to inform her casually, "I love you, too, you know..." The smile got left out in there, somewhere; he wasn't comfortable enough to try that, yet. It still felt all wrong. And not only because it was largely untrue, by most peoples' definition of 'love'. He didn't care enough to give, only to take.

--

Hanako had heard of this man, of course, but not much--other than that he operated the brothel. She knew she did not want to work under him. But...for now, she would accept the offer, for the time being. If only to be polite and to have a place to stay, for the night. As he'd said, they could talk the next day... Though she couldn't shake the notion that her future was looking very uncertain.

Bowing her thanks, she kept her gaze carefully trained on the ground. Besides for the obvious reason, it was the proper thing to do, in the presence of a man (who wasn't Van Aemstel). For this reason, she only saw Vesna's feet as she was led away, and found herself wondering if the other woman wasn't also thinking about the uncertainty of her future.

--

Diederik felt dazed for hours, after the incident. He wasn't entirely sure what had happened, or why. Just that he was confused and aware that he'd done something awful, and hadn't come to terms with it, yet. After turning away his brother once or twice, acting like his mind was lost somewhere up in space, he decided to turn in for the night, in the hopes that sleep would clear out his head.

Before actually lying down, he ran a finger along the top of his metronome, about to turn it on. But something made him hesitate, and, on a whim, he went to sleep in silence.

He had a nightmare, and it went like this:

He was a man doing something ultimately good, for once in his life. If honesty was a measure of goodness, then he was the goodest man on earth. As the rest of his colleagues turned a blind eye, he pointed and said:

"They're killing people!"

Diederik van Aemstel became a prisoner of war for being honest.

Cigarettes were few and far inbetween, for prisoners of war. And Diederik van Aemstel, a man of thirty-and-a-few years and eighty inches, was so heavily addicted to them that in their absence, he was turned into a shaking, shivering infant. His addiction told him to remember what it was like to be a baby.

He wept.

(Once, on a balmy beach in the east, an old man taught him to blow smoke rings from his pipe. He loved to smoke.)

He stopped weeping, but he never stopped shaking and telling the truth. He shook with the weight of the truth that the rest of Europe wasn't willing to bear. He began to see the face of someone he loved deeply in every human that joined him in the camp, and he refused to hear lies about them. He shook and refused, shook and refused. Diederik van Aemstel was the goodest of men.

They killed many people he fell deeply in love with.

An angel-faced child swung from a noose, and as he watched, it struck him very suddenly that no human could do this. What human could hang a child he loved so deeply?

Something in the camp made a rhythmic clanging noise every night, that soothed the infant Diederik to sleep. On nights when it couldn't be heard, he wept. He drifted and wept, and had nightmares.

In one, he was a slave trader in the west--but it was okay because people with dark skin weren't 'humans', really.

Clang... Clang... Clang... Click... Click... Click...

He wearily asked a Nazi one day, in German, why they killed the Jews and the Gypsies and the Communists and the cripples and the gays and whoever else. The answer was apparently an easy one: they weren't 'humans', really.

The Japanese slaughtered other Asians left-and-right, and neither side believed in the others' humanity. Then the Americans swooped in and cooked every man, woman, and child on the archapelageo of the rising sun alive. When they hadn't had quite enough, they cooked some other Asians in the southeast and some in the middle-east, too.

The USSR, not to be outdone, killed it's own people. It wanted to prove to the Americans that they were less human, and the two argued about it for a long time.

The twenty-first century dawned, and Diederik van Aemstel wondered who in the world really
was a human.

When he had twenty-and-a-few years and eighty inches, he paid a lot of money to fuck a little flat-chested Japanese girl. She sobbed and told him in her language that he wasn't a human, thinking he wouldn't understand. He didn't, in fact, understand her dialect, but he did know what she was trying to tell him.
And he felt like sobbing, too, because her little Mongoloid face and her ugly little blackened teeth and her little red doll lips and her perfectly sad and secretive little black eyes only spoke a singular truth: he was fucking an angel and he didn't know why.

As he imagined her swinging from a gallows while he fucked her, her sobs seemed to echo:

Who in the world is a human?
Who in this whole, wide world, is a human?

Then he was a prisoner of war again, and he watched as a hundred people were cooked alive--he didn't care if it was by Americans or Nazis. He didn't care, anymore. His heart had been hardened against inhumanity, against the human race that was not human.

(The chiminey that cooked the people blew smoke rings. He never forgot the smell of that smoke.)

There was even less food than there was cigarettes, and Diederik, a man of thirty-and-a-few years and eighty inches, found himself turning to mashed tulip bulbs for nutrition. They tasted like one could expect mashed tulip bulbs to taste like. He threw up.

He was not the only one. One older man (aged by tragedy, but otherwise an infant, compared to Amsterdam) wouldn't eat, no matter how much they told him he was dying. He croaked something to Diederik, in a raspy, withered voice.

"I don't know, I don't know," the Dutchman replied, helplessly. He couldn't understand the dialect, but he heard a lot of things.

Who in the world is a human?

Are you?

Can you be both not a human and the goodest of men?

Are you even a good man?

And then the old infant was a woman with eyes like the ocean, though she continued to croak, sadly:

Why did you let us die?

And he wept, "I don't know, I don't know..."



Diederik jolted awake with a wordless howl, drenched in sweat. He was breathing like he'd just run a dozen miles, and when he groped behind him for his pillow, it was soaked with tears. It took him a moment to get his bearings about him, and to remember why he'd been so stupid as to not turn on the metronome. And then he remembered he'd done a lot of stupid things, that day.

"Vesna--!" He swiveled around, as if she were hiding somewhere, and not gone. Scrambling to get up, he threw on some clothes haphazardly (forgetting his eyepatch, in the rush), and threw his door open. She wasn't there, of course, but the key glinted up at him from the floor. It reminded him cruelly of how much time he'd wasted, acting like a goddamned vegetable.

Barging into his brother's room (it was a good thing the door was unlocked, or it would have been another thing he'd have to pay for), he demanded, "Where's Vesna!?"

"I told you earlier, she went back to the carniva--" The usual annoyed (specifically, 'annoyed with Diederik') tone was cut off, as the door slammed shut again. He didn't have time to wait to hear the rest of it. Knowing his brother, it was probably just reminding him of what a joke he was, again. He couldn't say he wouldn't have shared the sentiment, this time.

Practically sprinting down the dirt road, illuminated only by the moonlight, he arrived at the carnival completely out of breath. And there was still a problem: with the brothel gone, he didn't know where to find her. But he had an idea of where to start.

It took a while to actually get to someone on night shift (the awfully sullen-looking mechanic--not that he could talk), but he was able to find out where Ionescu's car was, eventually. After running all the way over there (why the hell was this place so big?), and twice as out of breath, he banged a fist on the door and managed to half-shout, between gasps, "Hey--it's Van Aemstel!" (Even at a time like this, he gave his customary greeting. Not that it was much of a greeting.) "Where--where's Vesna?"

There was always a very good chance that Ionescu had been informed of the mishap. Diederik had no qualms with the man, but he wasn't afraid to rip his door off it's hinges, either, if he had to.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Wed Oct 12, 2011 9:46 pm

"It's not... It's not that..."

She would spend the rest of her life knowing that her skin and bones were like paper and chalk to him. Her future was now a child she never asked for... Whose future was uncertain in itself. He was all to blame, and somewhere she knew it. But because she loved him, she wouldn't say so. "You'll never be happy again... And it's my fault." The outlook of her happiness didn't look very good, judging on present conditions.

"Everything will be fine... Please believe me..." He promised. That was all he could do, and it killed him.

------------------------

His sarcasm didn't faze her at all-- she was so ecstatic she even kissed his cheek. He could grump all he wanted, but she would never feel any different. She was glad she got there quickly(but really she had no idea how much time had passed--) before he could get into anything. "I'm glad you care about me." She joked sarcastically. Shehad no idea.

She was about to ask him why he was sitting next to a mirror, and why he was writing in one of his favorite books, when he said something completely out of the ordinary. More than that, because he wasn't ordinary. She couldn't help it, a laugh bubbled out on it's own accord.

"What are you talking about...?" She eyed him strangely, then. Why would he even say such a thing? It wasn't in his nature. "Are you being serious?" Piter didn't love anything except inanimate objects that played music or had words printed on them.

--------------------------

Vesna stirred in her sleep, caught in her own dreams. Dimitrie, having already given up on sleep, went to open the door a crack, making sure the noise wouldn't wake her up. Being awake meant tears and he'd had enough of those.

"WHAT?!" He hissed at first, but then the only questions he had were, "Where's your pipe? ....What happened to your eye?!"

All his drugs were gone, his mind wasn't in the right place. He was weak and trembling slightly and wasn't in the right mind. Eventually he shook off the haze and said in a low voice, "Listen, she's upset. She was sobbing about some Chinese hooker" (nevermind he'd seen Chinese hookers and that Asian woman didn't look like one at all--) "and something... I don't even know, but she finally fell asleep. Maybe come back tomorrow if you want to hire her."

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Sun Oct 16, 2011 12:08 am

It was true that she knew, deep down, that part of it was his fault. Maybe a large part. But not all of it--much of it was nobody's fault but fate. 

She didn't know if he knew to take measures against pregnancy; she admittedly didn't know how to, herself, if it was possible. Of all the things she'd been taught, that was not one of them. So perhaps the only crime they were equally guilty of was ignorance. And he couldn't very well be blamed for the fact that they had two radically different bodies. He should have exercised more control, maybe, but he couldn't make her not fragile. He couldn't make her not sickly. Which she apparently was.

This notion brought an inkling of some long-lost fortitude back to her--just enough to hold his hand limply and firmly declare, "If I want to be happy again, I will. That's not for you to decide." And then, with some conviction and some gentleness and more than a little weariness, "I'm not...completely weak. I can make it through one more thing, I think..."

After all, if she truly had not an ounce of strength in her, she would have succumbed long before now. Right?

--

He made a careful note of her reaction, in his book. He was no expert, but he was going to guess that it wasn't the one he should have been going for. Clearly, he needed more practice. At least the good thing about being unconcerned about social norms was that he didn't feel embarrassed for violating them--even when he was attempting not to.

"What am I talking about? What are you talking about, I wonder?" He snapped the book shut curtly, expression unchanging and unrevealing, "Of course I'm serious. Don't worry yourself too much about it--"

For a moment, he stared into the cracked glass almost unblinkingly at his own image, with his newly bruised neck to match his eye, next to her, with her hair all wet. It was quite the sight. Without shifting his gaze, he announced, "It is really so heartbreaking to have been abandoned after nearly being strangled to death." (Nevermind that he had been the one to walk out of the tent, of his own accord.) "I should think my injuries would merit at least another popsicle. The pain...is nigh-intolerable, you know." The complete lack of any evidence of suffering in his dispassionate tone certainly made for a convincing case.

--

He didn't bother answering the questions about his pipe or eye--neither did he take the time to correct the ethnic mix-up. If Ionescu had guessed she was a hooker, then there was a good chance he might try to integrate her into the brothel (which wouldn't be a bad idea--if she was willing to actually cooperate, it could fetch a pretty sum). He could find out on his own how touchy she could be. For now, Diederik had no time to give a damn about the Asian woman's affairs.

"I don't want to hire her, I want to talk to her," he hissed right back, ominously, "Open the door, or--"

He stopped himself. He was about to threaten to break down the door--and proceed to do so, if necessary--but barging in and waking her up likely wouldn't have scored any points with her. Especially if she'd been sobbing up until then. Exhaling with a good measure of frustration (and with a good measure of it directed at himself), he ran a hand through his hair roughly. "...Nevermind. I'll wait around here, until she wakes up."

He stepped back from the door, letting Dimitrie be, foot already tapping with nerves. Instinctively, he reached for his pocket--and found to his vague bewilderment that his pipe wasn't there. He'd left it, in his rush. Unhappily, he resigned himself to the doubtful hope that he wouldn't just be a shaking mess by the time she woke up. Nothing to do now but pace around the area and try to come up with something, anything decent to say.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Sun Oct 16, 2011 10:38 am

He wiped his eyes quickly, before it was too noticeable. It almost made him smile (if he wasn't already so shaken up) that she had such determination. "You won't feel like this all the time," He reminded her. "You'll feel better." He didn't want to think that somehow she could be hurt by this-- she wouldn't change her mind, and there was no going back. There was something strange and wonderful about what the doctor could do, and he hoped it would be enough.

"Besides," He placed her breakfast back into her hands, and kissed the top of her head. "I've never heard of a mother being weak." And she wasn't, in many other senses. She had withstood god even knew what, denied any assistance in getting around, and survived being treated like an animal. Really, she might have been the strongest person he knew.

Taking her chin in his hand, he leaned down and kissed her once more. "I love you," He murmured with a smile. "And everyone else around here does, too. You aren't alone in this."

--------------------------

"Oh, please," She muttered at his monotone theatrics. "It wasn't like you were attacked for no reason. And some things are more important than getting you a stupid Popsicle." In a way, her words made her feel a bit awful. Had she even paid a thought to if he was okay? She assumed he would be-- he wasn't dead, after all. "I don't mean it like that, but you--"

She watched him write in his book as soon as she started talking. Suspicious, she snatched it from his hands. She couldn't read it, of course, cyrillic wasn't her specialty, but she knew it was something. It was always something. Holding tightly to it, her eyes shot daggers at him. "What does this say? What have you been writing?" She'd known him for too long to pass it off as harmless notes.

-------------------------------

"Jesus," The Moldovan muttered, closing the door when he left the car, after throwing the key inside. Due to his lack of drugs, he wasn't able to sleep from his nightmares, either. The only thing left to do was make the rounds to the other girls to see if they were alright. He was losing his hold on Vesna. "Whatever you want to say to her, you better say it right. I don't think she's staying around here much longer." With one more suspicious glance at the Dutchman, he trudged off to the main tent. Maybe someone had a few pills of any kind on them.

Vesna slept for a considerable amount of time, but how much of it was peaceful remained to be seen. When her eyes finally peeled open, they felt puffy and as raw as her cheeks, and she was alone. She wanted to be anywhere but there, in that place, with the nights previous events still in her mind. It didn't matter if she was back home or a star, she just didn't want to be there.

Usually a cheerful riser, she slid out of bed (thankfully she'd managed to bring her nightgown back) and to the door (where had Dimitrie gone?), her foot landing on a cold piece of metal. She picked up the key and eyed it confusedly, wondering why he hadn't taken it with him. Why was the door locked from the outside?

Curious, she opened the door a crack, just enough for half of her face to peek through... And saw why. Watching him pace for a moment (if he couldn't explain it then, how could he, now?), she wondered what he was there for. "She's not here." She mumbled bitterly, before beginning to close the door. That's who he wanted, right? He wanted Hanako.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Mon Oct 17, 2011 5:50 pm

He placed the bowl back in her hands, and she was able to relax--for now. A long road lay ahead, but she knew he was right that she (really, they) were surrounded by a network of support. Somehow, the difficulties would come to pass, and they'd hopefully be even better off than they were, before.

"I know," she said, with a tired smile, "I love you, too."

--

"Yes, you would find letting your new fling lick the inside of your mouth to be more important," he returned coldly, "As a mere 'friend', I suppose I should resign myself to being low on the priorities list."

Already, he was failing this 'be a better person than the idiot' scheme fantastically. Ever since he could remember, he'd been hardwired to say what he wanted--which usually meant doing everything in his power to be a jerk. He was going to have to start reprogramming himself.

Stepping back (figuratively speaking), he took a moment to analyze the situation: she was suspicious, so what was the proper emotion to respond with? Settling on 'mildly wounded that you would assume the worst of me', he adjusted his features accordingly (it was an easy one--looking hurt/offended was similar to looking displeased, but with a little less irritation), and held a hand out, palm-up, for the book.

"I takes notes for myself, on things I observe. For reference." (Technically the truth.) "And I'd like them back, please."

--

It had not been the best day ever. And Hanako had not yet allowed herself to sleep, trying to decide if the next day was going to be even worse.

Had she reached the point where she was willing to do the unthinkable? Peddle her flesh? Desgrace herself, by sinking to the ranks of mere whores? It hurt to even think about. She had her few belongings that she could sell, and possibly buy her way back to Japan. But then what? She would not be welcomed back to the hanamachi, and would likely end up in a potentially worse situation: jobless, alone, and without the things that made her unashamed to face the world. The makeup, the clothes...it was her beauty.

It was possible...that she could compromise. Make it to where it was no different from her old position--only catering to the wealthiest and most prestigious--except that she would have to add some new skills to her repitoire. At least...it would be easier to convince herself it was no different, that way.

Having made her decision, she began to prepare herself for a probably uneasy sleep. She had recovered her lacquer box from the place where she'd kept it hidden during the day--it and it's contents were relatively valueable, but she couldn't very well carry it around everywhere with her. It was in this that she placed her hairpins, in the compartment under her makeup, letting a sheet of black hair fall to her waist. Her elaborate obi, too, was taken off and folded delicately. The plain black dress was simple and perhaps elegant in it's own way, but with every ornament she removed, the potency of her power over men diminished.

But of course, it was not until the makeup was washed away that the spell was truly broken, which was why she always saved it for last. And good thing, too, it seemed: the manager had suddenly walked in.

With the other women asleep, she glided quietly over the mats laid out on the ground (a task made easier by the fact that she'd taken off her platform geta), and bowed politely. Here was another person she felt like a miniature next to--especially without her shoes, which put her at just barely over four feet and nine inches. She did not know if it put her at a disadvantage or not, with foreigners. Perhaps she was some kind of novelty to them.

Straightening up, she lowered her eyes respectfully, keeping quiet. In the presence of a (non-Van-Aemstel) man, it was best not to speak unless spoken to--or unless he was too shy to. But she didn't peg this one as the shy type.

--

By that point, the Dutchman was a wreck. Whether from sheer nerves, or nicotine withdrawal (Good God, was he seriously this addicted?), or both, he shook so much that he felt he would fly into a thousand pieces. He'd run his fingers through his hair so many times that it was impressive he hadn't ripped out a sizeable chunk, by then. Countless anxieties were allowed to stew in his mind, in his agitated state--without something to smoke, he had nothing to keep the stress at bay.

He just didn't see any way that he wouldn't blow this. Was there any argument under the sun that he could make for himself? Hadn't he been the one who, numerous times, had tried to tell her that he wasn't a good man? So why, now, did he want her to feel differently? When even he still believed what he knew to be the truth--

The door opened, and he all but flew at it to keep it from closing again.

"Vesna!" He exclaimed, eyes wild with desperation, "I'm sorry-- I did something awful--I am awful, I know. But I don't care about her like I do--I mean, I don't even like her. Please, believe me..." His argument was getting weaker, and, grasping at straws, he blurted out the only thing he could imagine might possibly save what little chance he had, "Vesna, I love you...!"
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Mon Oct 17, 2011 9:05 pm

((TIMESKIP--))

While it seemed Sofia had just enough strength left, Cosim had a surplus to spend. He had to. He was putting in extra shows, and doing what he could outside of that for an extra share of the money. It was taking more of a toll on him than he thought, but whenever he thought he should stop, he told himself whatever she was going through was taking quite a toll on her as well.

It wasn't like he was able to forget it, either. Now that it was obvious to everyone what was going on, he couldn't rest a moment without being asked. Some of it was polite some of it... wasn't. He was bombarded with worries and questions not even he had the answer to.

As always, the only place he could really be that was without people was the truck. Oddly enough it hadn't been giving him any peace. He never had a father, how was he supposed to know how to be one in the first place? He just lied on the cold truck bed and stared up into the dusty sky, wondering how he could wonder about so much when it really wasn't even him having the child.

--------------------

"He's not a fling...!" She hissed, hurt that after all this he would continue to expect that she not know any better (but how would she know, really?). "If you're a friend, you wouldn't say things like that to me." Her tone was caught between hurt and anger. Just because he was her mainstay didn't mean that he thought other things should stay the same. "Not everyone is like you." She added coldly, flipping back through his little red book.

About to place it back in his hand, she stared through the cover for a long moment and finally concluded, "No." It seemed cruel, but he was being far crueler, to her mind. Who knows what he's been writing in there, anyways? What he'd seen when he barged in her sewing room? And he would lie to her if she asked what was in it. "Apparently I can't keep secrets from you, and apparently you see right through me," She continued, "So you'll be the same way. Or go write in another book, I don't care." He wouldn't. Too much seemed to be invested in the one she was holding. Itakshir might know a bit how to read it-- he had a strange russian accent she'd never gotten around to explaining, after all. Or that large man. But she suspected he wouldn't even try.

"Goodnight, Piter," She stood and dusted off her dress. "Get your own popsicle."

------------------------

One might say that if this was her only option, Hanako couldn't do better. Dimitrie was notoriously good to his women (mind, they still were bound by a prostitution contract), especially since the fire. In turn, they took car of him, which, as a boy who left home and his mother too early, needed for his psyche to function. He also needed his substances, which were nowhere to be gotten at the time. He wondered how many nights one could go without sleep before keeling over.

He was looking for that small asian woman that had accompanied Vesna (and apparently caused all the problems) back. It seemed odd to still be looking for someone in full makeup this late, but for some reason, he expected her to look that way all the time.

Which was why he nearly shouted when someone akin to that elegant woman's ghoul was suddenly in front of him. But there were no other asian women in his entourage, so it had to be. Did it?

"Ah, Miss..." He didn't know her name. She didn't seem as harmful as Vesna was (attempting) to say. "I'm sorry to say, but I don't think there are many opportunities for living, outside of here." Truthfully, he didn't know, with her size, if she would even be very well suited for the business. "Unless you want to sleep, we can work out an arrangement? There's no individual place for you to sleep, but once the money starts flowing again, you'll get your own car." That was usually a good selling point. Remembering, he held out his slightly trembling hand for her to take. "My name is Ionescu."

----------------------------

As the words left his mouth so haphazardly, she began to cry again, silently, eyes cast towards the ground. She couldn't convince herself to believe him, anymore, and it was shattering. What was she worth, to him? A few stammers of how it wasn't what it really was. She knew men well enough to know that if it wasn't what it was, then it was what it was.

With a choking sob, she tried weakly to shove the door shut, she figured if his fingers were caught they would come off if they had to. She didn't want to see herself with such low worth in the eyes of someone else. He was just like the man that had 'welcomed' her to the country, with his lies. But eloquent with them wasn't ever an attribute she'd think to apply to Diederik.

And then, those words. Those words she would have said to him.

Against her better judgement, she inhaled those words between sobs like she would die without them. She let go of the door in shock, forgetting that he was keeping it open. The door made contact with her forehead and sent her tumbling back to collapse on the floor.

She was still crying, but now with a smile. She was a prostitute, she was an idiot, and she was too tall and wasted her time with art. And she was loved. And none of the former mattered, then.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Mon Oct 17, 2011 11:46 pm

Sonya had recovered well from her injuries in the months past (much to the relief of their progressively more-and-more-stressed-than-ever doctor), and was now sporting a sizable stomach. It was quite the challenge, for the blind woman. She had to be twice as careful as before, and couldn't risk falling or bumping into anything, as she might once have. And with the now most-delicate part of her body also being the most protruding, it was proving exceedingly worrisome.

She was escorted nearly everywhere, these days, whether she enjoyed it or not. It simply wasn't safe for her to be on her own. And while she would have liked for it to be Cosim doing the escorting, she knew he was busy, working hard. She didn't have to ask why. It made her happy, but also all the more eager to be with him, when he wasn't at work.

It was Itakshir now, who was helping her to the truck, where she knew Cosim would be. Arms linked, they more or less wobbled their way over the field, with the Ainu talking animatedly the entire way. He couldn't imagine why his friend wanted to be a father, but he seemed to find something delightful about it. Apparently, he loved children.

Reaching their destination, he knocked on the frame of the vehicle and announced, "Delivery!" And, with a wink and a wave (which he forgot, as usual, that she couldn't see), he took his leave, "See you guys later!"

Sonya stood in the grass, hands automatically going to her stomach, waiting for Cosim to lift her inside. She didn't say so, but she wanted him to hurry. Her back was already starting to ache, these days, and her feet were swollen, her breasts were swollen, her stomach was swollen... Rather, swelling. Everything was swelling. And it still had a ways to go before it finally stopped. But at least she'd stopped throwing up, weeks ago--that'd been nightmarish. 

Still, she felt drained, all the time. Like her little body could only make so much energy, and most of it went towards the baby. She was getting quieter and meeker, these days.

--

He couldn't honestly care less if he'd hurt her feelings over the stupid one--if anything, he was glad he did. Perhaps it would plant the seed of doubt in her mind, and she herself would begin to question the relationship, unknowingly setting it's dissolution into cycle. And, she, thinking to insult, had actually confirmed for him what he wanted to hear: he wasn't like the others. The others would come and go, but he was a constant. He was the one who did not fall or fail.

Yes, he was cruel. And he was discovering that it was much more difficult to hide that cruelty than he'd imagined.

Outwardly, he showed little tension other than slightly pressed lips and a finger tapping testily on his knee. Inwardly, he was practically seething. Standing up not a split second after she did, he put a hand on her shoulder as she turned away, his thin pianist's fingers curling around it lightly, but with all the delicate threat of a spider's legs.

Softly, in an evenly measured tone, he spoke something that should have been sweet, but came out as poisonous, "You know, I try, Franze, I really do. ...And mark my words, I will keep trying. Because no matter what you say or do, no matter what you think of me, I am always going to be the one person that stayed loyal to you. I have never shown you any level of heartlessness that I could be capable of, and I should hope it stays that way." He was nearly whispering, breathing out frost, "But do try not to test me. Because I find my patience wearing thin, these days."

And then, he noticed something strange. Something he'd never noticed before, for some reason. Franze's shoulder was awfully small, and thin. Perhaps it was because he rarely touched her (or anyone), but he hadn't realized exactly how thin she was. How fragile. Almost furiously, he forced her to spin around, expression hardened. Nothing about her appearance had changed. The true extent of her frailness was, apparently, something that simply couldn't be know, just by looking. But despite her smallness, he'd always had a notion that she was somehow bigger than him; that because she'd once been bigger, she always would be. Some sort of protective, nurturing force that loved him unconditionally.

But she wasn't. She was frail and tiny, and he could have probably broken her like a hollow eggshell, even considering how slender he himself was. A savage urge shot through him to do just that. Because she wasn't his mother, she was a woman. And not a woman who wanted the only kind of 'love' he knew how to offer.

A horrible, horrible feeling overcame him, and not one he'd ever genuinely felt, before. Shaken violently by a tremor, he snatched his hand away from her, thoroughly disturbed by whatever it was that had come over him. Taking a step backwards, he bumped into the mirror and tilted it over. It wobbled precariously for a moment, before falling like a felled tree, knocking into the ground and scattering it's shattered pieces in all directions. Piter didn't flinch, so preoccupied he was. If he'd only understood what it was, he would have known right away what to call the feeling:

Fear. Serious, debilitating fear.

A wave of nausea rolled over him, and he paled considerably, looking like he'd suddenly been dropped onto the face of the earth and was seeing everything for the first time. The confusion made him reel. Eyes wide, he exclaimed in a strained voice what he knew all along, but was only just now hitting him, "I'm losing my mind...!"

--

Ah, he was talking to her. How wonderful. A feeling of ease washed over her--she was trained to be around men, and she'd almost forgotten why she enjoyed it (when they weren't attacking her, of course).

Placing the tips of her fingers to her mouth delicately to half-hide a smile, she murmured demurely, "I couldn't possibly think to sleep, right now, I so pleased to be offered a job." Honestly, she wouldn't have been pleased at all to be offered this job, but since she was already going in with a plan in mind-- "And to have my own quarters? How very lovely..." Perfumes and blossoms, silks and the changing seasons; she reminded herself to integrate them into every word, into every breath she exhaled. "I do have some very small stipulations...concerning the sort of customers I take. But I hope it will not seem like any great trouble..."

His hand was trembling--from what, she couldn't say--but she took it with one that was as still as the most undisturbed waters. She did not shake it; she still wasn't quite that familiar with the custom, yet. Lifting her gaze to meet his, she wondered vaguely what it was he yearned for most, in life. Happiness? Pleasure? An escape? Whatever it was, she would show it to him, in the floating world. But if it was material riches he desired... Her painted lips turned upward, just lightly, "I am Hanako Yanagi. If you would allow me, I can make you a very wealthy man."

--

She began to cry, and he knew in his heart, he was fucking it up. There was no way to save himself from this one--he might have actually felt a little better if she'd shut his fingers in the door. At least then the pain would be physical; a form he could understand and accept. But then...something strange happened, and before he knew what was going on, she was lying on the floor.

And smiling. The most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He was far, far too tall, had awful teeth, smoked himself half to death, could barely spare a word for anyone, was engaged in an evil business, was cheap and approaching middle age and had done some truly awful, unforgivable things. But she smiled at him.

Forgetting himself, he attempted to rush inside to help her up, but neglected ducking on the way through the door frame, and ended up cracking his own forehead. Hissing at the unexpected injury, he only allowed himself to clutch at it for a moment, before stumbling in and kneeling next to her. Scooping her up, he practically cradled her, murmuring that which he never got the chance to say, in his nightmares. That which could have proved that, yes, he was human, and yes, he could be a good man.

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, I love you..."
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Tue Oct 18, 2011 8:43 am

He already heard them coming from a while away--Itakshir wasn't exactly good at talking discretely-- and sat up, waiting for them to reach him. It was kind of a funny sight, not that he would tell her so.

As the Ainu left, he called out his thanks, adding for the nth time, 'she can't see that'. It didn't seem to ever get through to him.

A combination of wasting all his own energy and her being heavier than normal made him have to get out of the truckbed to hoist her in. He couldn't just throw her around like he usually did. Bending, he put her arms around his neck before sweeping her legs out from under her and sitting her gently on the edge. Laughing lightly as he kissed her forehead, he greeted her with, "Hey, little pumpkin," (of course, if anyone else were to use the nickname, they wouldn't have an unbroken face for very long. "How are you feeling?"

It killed him that at the time when she probably most wanted him around, he could hardly be there. They didn't sleep in the same place, and most of the time they had before was taken up by his work. Stepping back into the truck, he pulled her into his lap like usual. "You think we should just give the baby to Itakshir?" He joked. "He seems pretty jealous."

------------------

Her blood ran cold. "Are you trying to threaten me, Piter?" Threatening her with what? She couldn't be sure, and didn't want to find out. About to put him in his place, shrug off his arm and walk away, she was instead forcibly spun back to face him, letting out a small shriek of horrified surprise.

She expected him to look angry at the least, but most likely expressionless. Instead all she saw in his eyes was fear. She couldn't place where it was coming from, but panicked and stopped trying once the shattering noise interrupted her thoughts. She felt like she'd seen that face, long ago, when he was just a boy. But he was still a boy, wasn't he? Throwing another tantrum.

Misinterpreting, she pressed the book to his chest, and let it fall for him to catch. "Fine, have the book back. But it's time for you to grow up."

Now was the time she was supposed to walk away. But strangely, she couldn't. Not with him so shaken and upset. She wanted him to go off on his own, but at the same time was worried what would happen. She really was just like a mother. So she just stood there uncertainly and uneasily, not knowing which direction to take.

----------------

When she took his hand and looked him in the eyes, he wouldn't let go. Couldn't. He wasn't going to let this beauty (how was she beautiful, when he really thought about it? He wasn't thinking.) slip away. He desired each of what she wondered about, and all at once. Lately he had been feeling like he wasn't even alive. That was what living was, wasn't it? Happiness and pleasure? He only needed an escape to it. His hand stopped trembling-- it was like a drug, her stare. And when she mentioned money, well, what could he do?

"You'll have anything you want..." He murmured, entranced. "Please... Tell me." Her voice was like Ether.

-------------------

It took her tears a while to dry up, even after he'd confessed.

With her face buried in the crook of his neck, she sniffed and held on to him tightly. "I tried to love you... So much... You never would let me..." He would say 'I'm this or that, it's no good for you'. Did he not remember the first time they met? He could have said anything, done anything. But what did he say? To a prostitute, no less? 'I won't look, if it bothers you'. That was all she needed to prove he was good. She lived in a place where she could be treated like an object, and the first thing he wanted to know was if it bothered her. Finally able to speak properly, she continued, "You always told me not to. Well I'm going to, now. I don't care if it bothers you."

She leaned up to kiss his jaw a few times, and realized that he must really have been out of it for a while, if he hadn't even shaved. It made her feel bad, that she didn't stay to take care of him. "I'm sorry I ran away..."

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Mon Oct 24, 2011 10:23 pm

"Tired," she replied honestly, though she did manage a smile. A tired smile. It would be nice when this was through, and she had her energy back--but that was when the real challange would begin. A lifelong challange.

When he placed her into his lap, she rested the side of her head against his arm. She would have liked to lie down, but not in the truck bed; some things were not feasible, anymore. The blankets she kept in there had gone unused for several weeks, by then.

"He says he had a lot of baby brothers and sisters," another tired smile, "Maybe he should be the godfather."

Thought she didn't (or didn't like to) outright think of it in such a way, what with her blindness and frail health, and Cosim's status as a wanted man, even goofy Itakshir might have been the more stable parent.

--

He didn't try to catch the book. He didn't even notice it. The world was spinning dangerously beneath him, and he found himself desperate to get off. If he was cracking before, he was falling apart, now.

A part of him wanted to grab and hold onto her skirts, to make her stay with him, but he wasn't small enough for that, any more. He ended up with his hands hovering, half-raised in the air, like he didn't know what to do with them. The holes being left in what turned out to be a thin outer shell, were allowing the true extent of his selfishness and shallowness to spill forth. "Grow up? Grow up? Don't tell me what to do!" For once, he didn't look blank-faced, or even furious. He looked like he was having a psychotic episode. 

"You're just a prop in MY world! You're supposed to be here for me!" He pointed at her accusingly, eyes wide with panic, "What makes him special? So what if he 'loves' you? I love you, too!" But it wasn't love. It was need. "He doesn't even deserve to have you; I was here first! For years--and when I was little, you said I shouldn't be alone"--(When did she say that? He didn't know, anymore.)--"you're not allowed to not love me!"

Because then he would be alone. A child alone in a world he could not function in, a society that didn't accept that he didn't know how to be accepted. He'd long ago stopped trying to tune his radio, to figure out what channel normal people were broadcasting on.

Why did he need to, if she was always there to play music for him?

--

She did not fail to notice that his hand had stopped shaking. How fascinating. It would be interesting to know the cause of it, but she guessed it would not be something she'd learn quickly. If only she knew--she had just the drug for him.

Though some might argue that it was no less dangerous than conventional substances. It was not uncommon for needy men to waste their lives and their riches away, when they became addicted to the okiya.

Looking ever more deeply into his eyes, she responded pleasantly, "I wouldn't like to ask for much." But here, she did indeed take a slightly firmer tone, "I will not be treated as a common prostitute. I have no business for a manager who does not allow me my dignity. I am a geisha--a living piece of art--and I will be recognized as such."

Pulling her gaze away (after all, her second stipulation would likely not require any extra means of persuasion), and releasing his hand to draw her own back to herself, she continued, "I will take men only from the highest class--very wealthy men, is it understandable? If they are brought to me, I will have no problem drawing them in. For one appointment, I will take..." She thought about it before, considering what she charged in her old life, "Six-thousand." Easily. "Is this acceptable, for you?"

--

"You shouldn't," he muttered, reinforcing his prior stance while wiping her eyes with the backs of his fingers, "But I want you to." It did bother him, but perhaps...he would have to resign himself to the fact that he was just never really going to end up doing the best thing. Whether out of circumstance or knowingly, it seemed he couldn't follow through with even his best intentions.

But then, loving someone wouldn't exactly be the worst thing he'd ever done.

Before answering, he kissed her back, on the lips, well-aware of how ungroomed he presently looked. At least, in the dim light, she probably couldn't see how hot his face felt. (Although maybe she could feel it.) Something told him he ought to have been too old for that. "I'm sorry I came back." If he had any amount of decency, he probably would have let her go and move on. "I can't help myself..." As straight-faced as ever, he half-shrugged, "If it's wrong, then fuck morality, I guess."
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Tue Oct 25, 2011 8:33 am

"You're still beautiful." He reminded her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders (too afraid to hold her waist like he usually did). She did look tired, though. Not that he would tell her so.

He snorted at the suggestion-- not at the incredulity of it (because he would probably trust the Ainu with his life, but at what went with it. "And that Austrian-- she doesn't come with that arrangement, does she?" He still hated her.

But under all the jokes he realized what she had but not said. All of the women who'd spoken to him without even being asked had told him that you know you're meant to be a parent the first time you see your baby smile. That wouldn't happen, for Sonya. She would never really see it, at all. The child would have quite an extended family, but what kind of life would it lead in a place like this? Practically whispering, as if he was afraid anyone else would hear, he murmured, "If you don't think we can do very well... There's always places that take in children..." It wasn't favorable, and frankly he felt ashamed to say so but it was possible they just weren't child-rearing material.

And what about his manacles? To him they were a sign of acknowledgement of what he'd done-- but would a child understand that? At the best the baby would know its father was a serious criminal. At the worst it would think that people in manacles were comforting, or good. Both weren't favorable options.

-----------------

Franze could not believe this. Well, in a way she could. Because whether she realized it or not, she created this cage for herself. And him the same. He'd only ever seen love as one thing-- another way simply could not exist. She knew that, and she didn't like to see him hurt. She loathed seeing him like this.

But for the first time she had real, organic happiness and she wasn't going to choose anything over it. Piter would calm down, learn, and write how to avoid being lonely without her in his little book, and all would be right again-- or, so she hoped. Either way, she couldn't stay.

She didn't even respond to his arguments (or were they pleas?). She merely swallowed the growing lump in her throat, and walked away.

------------------------

Yes, it all made sense. Only high-class clients (lower class men wouldn't know what to do with someone like her, anyway), dignity, art. He mind was beginning to cloud-- only those words stuck.

Then, abruptly when she looked away and a price was mentioned, the clouds parted and it felt like he'd gotten a punch in the stomach. "Six... Thousand...?" He laughed nervously (why was she so intimidating?). "Miss Yanagi... I appreciate your sense of self-worth-- I like to cultivate it, to prevent anyone from getting hurt-- but... Six thousand... Hardly anyone would step up for that. Six thousand doesn't even mean that anymore." Here, 6 thousand might as well have been one million.

------------------

"Love isn't very moral." She explained to him, tilting his head down slightly by his chin to lightly kiss the stitches that ran across his eye. "Someone took out your eye, because they loved someone. I denied who it was, because I loved. People throw affection at someone with no assurance of it ever coming back," But it had for her. She smiled into his lips, "And whoever told you that women don't want men to come back for them is lying."

Then she seemed more somber. "Every hour I cried more-- what would happen to me, if you never came back...?" She would be nameless and poor, just like Hanako had said. "But every hour was another hour I thought you wanted someone else, and I had given all my love away for nothing." It certainly felt like she could never take it back.

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