Overture 1.9.2
New
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Lucrezia's home was another thing that refused to conform to expectations, really. If you looked at her, you never would have guessed that her parents were fairly well off, solid middle class. You honestly didn't really know what they did, and if you weren't yourself the heir to a fortune racked up through a supervillain's legitimate business conglomerate, you'd say they were rich. But you knew better, because what was available for you was a tiny fraction of your mother's worth at her height, just what liquid cash she kept floating and what tiny amount wasn't seized.
And you probably had as much as her parents. Probably.
Still, the point of your musings were mostly to fill the space, as you and Lucrezia mechanically packed boxes away. She had insisted on doing it herself, despite the fact that everyone had offered to help. Once you had entered, she had gone silent and just started packing her things. Clothes into a garbage bag, other things into boxes. You honestly weren't much help—Lucrezia moved with the sort of casual knowledge of a space that came with living somewhere, and...
"Luc, should I just start on the living ro—" She spins and locks you with a glare. You take a step back, swallowing, because holy shit she's furious.
"Let it rot," The girl hisses, hunching in on herself, "every single reminder of them should decay or burn." You overcome your fear as she begins to shake, and you wrap her in your arms. She doesn't cry, though. She just shakes, trembling like a leaf in a tornado.
It takes longer than you'd like to get back to packing. Both of your rhythms are ruined, and so what was once perhaps another half hour becomes an awkward hour as you both try to avoid each other without looking at each other.
The last items are the ones that Lucrezia can't seem to bring herself to touch. She packs away the shitty starter bass and amp without issues, but she doesn't seem to be able to bring herself to touch the rest of her equipment. On a lark, you had blown money that would make most people broke to get her a nearly professional level of equipment. It was things like that, of course, that let you know that Lucrezia and her parents weren't rich—this would have been problematic for them, but you're pretty sure a single financial quarter of the investments made with your inheritances recouped the price.
"I can't touch it," She whispers, suddenly, "can't stain that memory with the blood of my hands..." You don't think you were supposed to hear that. Still, you move over, gently taking her hands into yours.
"Luc," You plead, wordlessly, as much as you can with her name before you say the words, "talk to me?"
She stares at you. Except...you're pretty sure she's not looking at you. Still, she squeezes her eyes shut. "I killed them." Her voice is suddenly strong. Angry. Enraged. "They couldn't love me except when they were forced. So I killed them." She deflates, all of sudden, and slumps onto her now bare bed. "I took Whisper's voice away. I ran, and I ran, and I ran, and I ran. No time to get clean. No time to be horrified. No time for anything. Just kept running, and running." She's shaking, again.
You press your lips together, and sit beside her, drawing her into your embrace again. You don't really know what to say. You wonder what, was the point where she tipped into having powers?
"I considered it. Surrendering. Just...letting it end." Lucrezia suddenly spoke. "Before you, I had been thinking of it, anyways. And...I'm just a burden to you. To Sumire. Always angry, always causing fights, always getting you in trouble for associating. It was really tempting. To stop being in control." She gives a little, not entirely normal giggle.
She turns her face to yours. She studies you, for a long, long moment. "When I saw you, Louise..." She pauses. Then, she sighs, and the energy seems to sap from her body, and she slumps against you bonelessly. "It was sheer relief, mixed with dread. That it was real, and wasn't just...a nightmare. I had to wake up, and consider what had actually happened."
Well. That was...
What were you supposed to feel, you wonder? Horror? Well, yes. You were horrified. Was it some sort of deep sadness? You...supposed that yes, it made you sad.
But mostly, you felt angry. Angry that she had to go through that. Angry that the world was so broken. You were just...angry. The girl in your arms had begun to shake, again, and you couldn't really do anything more for her than be here. With time, perhaps, she would get better. But you're pretty sure that if you weren't here, then she would be spiralling, ever downwards, and the line in the sand was right there, waiting for her to fall past it and into the dust, never to return.
You wonder if your thoughts always drifted to such prose, but it doesn't matter, you suppose.
Because, really, there's a part of you, an ugly part...
That's glad it wasn't you.
A sick relief that you weren't there for her in the beginning.
It makes you want to vomit, it makes you feel like you're betraying her, somehow. But you can't help but want to be happy that you hadn't exposed yourself to another tyrant that would have taken away you, set you to dance upon strings to a preplanned melody. Still, selfish though it may be, you take comfort in that. At least, you can use it to help her.
Probably.
Emotions, you muse, are complicated things that are complicated to explain. It takes effort to feel, and effort to express them, and sometimes it feels like it's just too much. Even you want to be alone sometimes, if only because it's a place where you won't be drawn from your contemplation by others. You're more social than Sumire or Lucrezia, you tend to seek out people to help, people to speak to. It keeps you from dwelling too much on things that don't matter, that you would be better off ignoring.
You should be doing that right now. Talking to her. Soothing her. But you aren't. You just don't know what to say, here. A joke would be inappropriate. You don't have nice, soothing words. How do you even cross the bridge that her one night in hell created?
Nobody will ever really under—
The only thing that mattered.
Absent morality, absent society, absent people to care for.
Freedom.
Was that why you seemed tailor made to counter Masters? Because you despised the idea of not being in control, anymore?
"Louise."
You needed to stop. If you kept going, you would dwell, you would obsess. You knew that.
"Louise!"
Hate. You hate her. You hate Masters. You want to see her again, so you can wrap your hands around her neck and squeeze.
"Louise, you're hurting me!"
You blink, and realize that your embrace had become crushing, your arms clamping around Louise like a frightened child clings to a plushie.
You let go.
You step backwards.
You—
"Louise, are you okay?"
—you have to go.
[ ] To the old manor. The old home. The rotting remnants of a mother you hated. You aren't sure what you'll find there. But maybe it'll feel better, if you burn it all down. And you'll be alone.
[ ] Home. Just...home.
[ ] Somewhere. Anywhere. You don't really care, so long as it's not here. Not where you hurt her.
it only took a week, and about six different drafts of this scene. that being said, I think I am going to swap to a weekly update schedule, simply because I have been having trouble writing in general so I might just be burning out. Probably Sundays, I never have things going on on sundays.
And you probably had as much as her parents. Probably.
Still, the point of your musings were mostly to fill the space, as you and Lucrezia mechanically packed boxes away. She had insisted on doing it herself, despite the fact that everyone had offered to help. Once you had entered, she had gone silent and just started packing her things. Clothes into a garbage bag, other things into boxes. You honestly weren't much help—Lucrezia moved with the sort of casual knowledge of a space that came with living somewhere, and...
"Luc, should I just start on the living ro—" She spins and locks you with a glare. You take a step back, swallowing, because holy shit she's furious.
"Let it rot," The girl hisses, hunching in on herself, "every single reminder of them should decay or burn." You overcome your fear as she begins to shake, and you wrap her in your arms. She doesn't cry, though. She just shakes, trembling like a leaf in a tornado.
It takes longer than you'd like to get back to packing. Both of your rhythms are ruined, and so what was once perhaps another half hour becomes an awkward hour as you both try to avoid each other without looking at each other.
The last items are the ones that Lucrezia can't seem to bring herself to touch. She packs away the shitty starter bass and amp without issues, but she doesn't seem to be able to bring herself to touch the rest of her equipment. On a lark, you had blown money that would make most people broke to get her a nearly professional level of equipment. It was things like that, of course, that let you know that Lucrezia and her parents weren't rich—this would have been problematic for them, but you're pretty sure a single financial quarter of the investments made with your inheritances recouped the price.
"I can't touch it," She whispers, suddenly, "can't stain that memory with the blood of my hands..." You don't think you were supposed to hear that. Still, you move over, gently taking her hands into yours.
"Luc," You plead, wordlessly, as much as you can with her name before you say the words, "talk to me?"
She stares at you. Except...you're pretty sure she's not looking at you. Still, she squeezes her eyes shut. "I killed them." Her voice is suddenly strong. Angry. Enraged. "They couldn't love me except when they were forced. So I killed them." She deflates, all of sudden, and slumps onto her now bare bed. "I took Whisper's voice away. I ran, and I ran, and I ran, and I ran. No time to get clean. No time to be horrified. No time for anything. Just kept running, and running." She's shaking, again.
You press your lips together, and sit beside her, drawing her into your embrace again. You don't really know what to say. You wonder what, was the point where she tipped into having powers?
"I considered it. Surrendering. Just...letting it end." Lucrezia suddenly spoke. "Before you, I had been thinking of it, anyways. And...I'm just a burden to you. To Sumire. Always angry, always causing fights, always getting you in trouble for associating. It was really tempting. To stop being in control." She gives a little, not entirely normal giggle.
She turns her face to yours. She studies you, for a long, long moment. "When I saw you, Louise..." She pauses. Then, she sighs, and the energy seems to sap from her body, and she slumps against you bonelessly. "It was sheer relief, mixed with dread. That it was real, and wasn't just...a nightmare. I had to wake up, and consider what had actually happened."
Well. That was...
What were you supposed to feel, you wonder? Horror? Well, yes. You were horrified. Was it some sort of deep sadness? You...supposed that yes, it made you sad.
But mostly, you felt angry. Angry that she had to go through that. Angry that the world was so broken. You were just...angry. The girl in your arms had begun to shake, again, and you couldn't really do anything more for her than be here. With time, perhaps, she would get better. But you're pretty sure that if you weren't here, then she would be spiralling, ever downwards, and the line in the sand was right there, waiting for her to fall past it and into the dust, never to return.
You wonder if your thoughts always drifted to such prose, but it doesn't matter, you suppose.
Because, really, there's a part of you, an ugly part...
That's glad it wasn't you.
A sick relief that you weren't there for her in the beginning.
It makes you want to vomit, it makes you feel like you're betraying her, somehow. But you can't help but want to be happy that you hadn't exposed yourself to another tyrant that would have taken away you, set you to dance upon strings to a preplanned melody. Still, selfish though it may be, you take comfort in that. At least, you can use it to help her.
Probably.
Emotions, you muse, are complicated things that are complicated to explain. It takes effort to feel, and effort to express them, and sometimes it feels like it's just too much. Even you want to be alone sometimes, if only because it's a place where you won't be drawn from your contemplation by others. You're more social than Sumire or Lucrezia, you tend to seek out people to help, people to speak to. It keeps you from dwelling too much on things that don't matter, that you would be better off ignoring.
You should be doing that right now. Talking to her. Soothing her. But you aren't. You just don't know what to say, here. A joke would be inappropriate. You don't have nice, soothing words. How do you even cross the bridge that her one night in hell created?
Nobody will ever really under—
"My own mother mastered me." You say it, your voice absentminded. "I've...lived my entire life, with her adjustments in my head."
—stand what she went through, or how bad it was. Maybe Slaughterhouse Nine survivors, but even that—
"Even with this, even with the aftermath, you're better than you would have been."
—wasn't the same. They merely played cruel tricks with lives, manipulated you into destroying yourself—
"Because you're still you. You can still think. You can still choose. He never got control of you."
—but it wasn't the sort of base, soulcrushing slavery of a Master. At the very least, you still had a choice—
"Please. Don't ever regret this. Don't ever regret surviving."
—and in the end, that was what mattered. Having a choice.
The only thing that mattered.
Absent morality, absent society, absent people to care for.
Freedom.
Was that why you seemed tailor made to counter Masters? Because you despised the idea of not being in control, anymore?
"Louise."
You needed to stop. If you kept going, you would dwell, you would obsess. You knew that.
"Louise!"
Hate. You hate her. You hate Masters. You want to see her again, so you can wrap your hands around her neck and squeeze.
"Louise, you're hurting me!"
You blink, and realize that your embrace had become crushing, your arms clamping around Louise like a frightened child clings to a plushie.
You let go.
You step backwards.
You—
"Louise, are you okay?"
—you have to go.
[ ] To the old manor. The old home. The rotting remnants of a mother you hated. You aren't sure what you'll find there. But maybe it'll feel better, if you burn it all down. And you'll be alone.
[ ] Home. Just...home.
[ ] Somewhere. Anywhere. You don't really care, so long as it's not here. Not where you hurt her.
it only took a week, and about six different drafts of this scene. that being said, I think I am going to swap to a weekly update schedule, simply because I have been having trouble writing in general so I might just be burning out. Probably Sundays, I never have things going on on sundays.
[X] To the old manor. The old home. The rotting remnants of a mother you hated. You aren't sure what you'll find there. But maybe it'll feel better, if you burn it all down. And you'll be alone.
[X] Home. Just...home.
Arson isn't a healthy way to cope, or so I've heard.
Arson isn't a healthy way to cope, or so I've heard.
[X] Somewhere. Anywhere. You don't really care, so long as it's not here. Not where you hurt her.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Holy dissociation, Batman! Normally I'd be super happy Louise opened to someone about her issues, but... I'm not sure that even counts, Jesus. Even trauma-bonding is still bonding, but I'm not sure even that actually happened here because Louise was just so not present.
[] To the old manor. The old home. The rotting remnants of a mother you hated. You aren't sure what you'll find there. But maybe it'll feel better, if you burn it all down. And you'll be alone.
Normally I'd vote for this for a variety of character reasons, but... Well, arson is a crime. It'd be cathartic, it'd be her revisiting her past and exerting power, control over it, even if a relatively unhealthy manner. But Louise is trying to be a rogue, and if she picks up a criminal record, then the PRT will have a much bigger stick to leverage if/when they try and get the anti-Master to sign up with them. Especially with this particular PRT director; I don't think he'd hesitate to play hard-ball even if it's not necessarily actually the best idea. So:
[X] Somewhere. Anywhere. You don't really care, so long as it's not here. Not where you hurt her.
Home takes us home, and has us speak to mom. Very clear-cut, in terms of what it'll do. And mom is certainly a healthy role model and support. But this... Well, it's sort of a mystery box. But what I'm banking on is that Louise not having an actual specific destination gives Lucrezia time to catch up; it's the only one that doesn't really exclude it as an option, so if any them have that happen, it's this one.
And I really think they deserve to finish that talk.
[] To the old manor. The old home. The rotting remnants of a mother you hated. You aren't sure what you'll find there. But maybe it'll feel better, if you burn it all down. And you'll be alone.
Normally I'd vote for this for a variety of character reasons, but... Well, arson is a crime. It'd be cathartic, it'd be her revisiting her past and exerting power, control over it, even if a relatively unhealthy manner. But Louise is trying to be a rogue, and if she picks up a criminal record, then the PRT will have a much bigger stick to leverage if/when they try and get the anti-Master to sign up with them. Especially with this particular PRT director; I don't think he'd hesitate to play hard-ball even if it's not necessarily actually the best idea. So:
[X] Somewhere. Anywhere. You don't really care, so long as it's not here. Not where you hurt her.
Home takes us home, and has us speak to mom. Very clear-cut, in terms of what it'll do. And mom is certainly a healthy role model and support. But this... Well, it's sort of a mystery box. But what I'm banking on is that Louise not having an actual specific destination gives Lucrezia time to catch up; it's the only one that doesn't really exclude it as an option, so if any them have that happen, it's this one.
And I really think they deserve to finish that talk.
Multiple updates a week was glorious while it lasted, but I think I speak for all of us when I say that a weekly schedule that doesn't burn you out is preferable in the long-run. Do what you've gotta to keep the quest going!
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Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Home. Just...home.
[X] Somewhere. Anywhere. You don't really care, so long as it's not here. Not where you hurt her.
- Location
- Philippines
I want to vote for the first one... but this feels like a deep rooted mental trap that they're egg donor mastered in her brain when she's still a baby.
And the second make me wonder aswell
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[X] Home. Just...home.
[X] Somewhere. Anywhere. You don't really care, so long as it's not here. Not where you hurt her.
Good quest as I really like the worldbuilding, was hoping she become a Ward considering her huge potential, more protection.
Guess we will see how long this Rogue thing can last as I'm leery about her protection, sure she got allies but.
Not a fan of Felicity as she is exhausting to deal with, hope we can send her to a better gang and move on.
Honestly I do wish you picked Songstress as her cape name and use Final Fantasy X-2 Yuna's Songstress outfit as her cape costume.
Good quest as I really like the worldbuilding, was hoping she become a Ward considering her huge potential, more protection.
Guess we will see how long this Rogue thing can last as I'm leery about her protection, sure she got allies but.
Not a fan of Felicity as she is exhausting to deal with, hope we can send her to a better gang and move on.
Honestly I do wish you picked Songstress as her cape name and use Final Fantasy X-2 Yuna's Songstress outfit as her cape costume.
