bolderfell | Daybreak IC Inbox

No. That's fine. I'll be right there.

[He must have been in the building, actually, because it's only a minute or two before he's tapping his knuckles softly against her door. Knock knock.]

[Isn't he always around at this point? Or it feels like it.

She's quietly getting the dorm and her room is... rather dark compared to how it normally is, curtains pulled and the only light being softly dimmed. But she looks a bit of a mess still even being out of the infirmary.]

Come in. [She'll close the door behind him, though not bothering to lock it as she plops herself on the edge of her bed and motioning to the chair at the desk if he wants it.]

A... lot of shit happened, obviously.

No kidding.

[He notes the darkness, the unlocked door, how bad she looks, before finally sitting sideways in the offered seat. He's quieter than he already normally is.]

...You all right?

[That question of all things should not be getting a small bitter laugh out of her as she rubs at her face. Is she alright? Probably not.]

Oh, you know. Just got over being brainwashed to attack people I give a shit about and not being able to do a goddamned thing about it other than sit back and watch in absolute fucking horror.

And having to be knocked out by my own damn family to stop a fucking murderous rampage. Absolutely fine and dandy. [... That's the most sarcastic tone she's ever had.]

[Therion's expression flickers somewhat at people I give a shit about, but it's hard to tell in the dark what he's feeling. Or thinking.]

Great Grandbat managed it, huh? That's something.

[Whatever it is Jolyne invited him up to say, he seems ready to wait for it without showing a hint of his own cards.]

[It isn't surprising in the slightest that he's holding everything close to his chest, she can't blame him. After what happened, she doesn't know if any remote bit of trust is ever going to come back and she knows damn well that she can't press any sort of issue like that.]

Hamon's a hell of a thing, just gotta aim it right. [Might be part of the reason the strings she had been using had a bit of a glow to them. Not much, but still noticeable compared to the dull they typically had been.]

I just. I don't know. Feel like I should apologize for everything that happened? I... I know what happened, couldn't do anything about it, but I saw everything.

[Deep breaths, Jolyne, collect yourself into something actually coherent.]

I don't know what I would have done afterwards if I'd done more damage than I had.

[At least what she's saying gets him to look at her again. To really look at her, and to listen to how she's saying it, how difficult it is for her.

This is really bothering her, isn't it? Like... it even kind of seems like it hurts, seeing what she did to him. He reaches up, but not all the way to his scarf, doesn't adjust it. He can spare her the reminder. He just plays the drawstring of his hoodie between his fingers, trying to understand the source of her discomfort.]

I know it wasn't your fault.

[He offers that, a twinge uncertain. Is that what she's worried about?]

[It'd be a fairly obvious source of discomfort if she'd outright say something instead of keeping everything close to her chest and finding every way to hide it from view. But she can't, not here, not now. Every little bit of her that's cautious and wants to play things close has... been sidelined by the realization of what she has done what she could do if ever she lost control like that again.

The reminder doesn't help, even if he wasn't trying to frame it like that. Her dominant hand rests on the forearm of the other, luckily blunt nails digging into her skin just light enough to not draw blood. Yet.]

That doesn't... [Fuck, how does she even say this?]

I could have fucking killed you, I would have fucking killed you and I'd have to fucking live with that. I act like a hard bitch and all that shit but I've never actually done something like that before. Don't... think I actually would. And I certainly wouldn't want to for someone I give a goddamned about! [Oh, that last bit has her pausing when she's realized what she's said, grip of her arm releasing so she can rub at her face for a moment instead.

Once she starts talking again, her voice is quieter, tone a lot softer than it was before.]

I'm not someone that people get along with, much less like, so I don't... want to lose what little I have. Especially not someone that I actually have some kind of who-the-fuck-knows feelings for, right?

[As Jolyne talks, Therion retreats further and further back behind his eyes. He's already putting together the responses he knows will end the conversation, because what is there to say? Yeah, he knows she could have killed him. Would have. He knows it's not something she's ever actually done, knows she wouldn't have wanted to do it. He even knows she wouldn't have wanted to kill him, specifically. One on one between them, it's easier than it is the rest of the time. No pretending to do, no expectations to disappoint. He gets it. He knows. It's fine.

They can go on as they have, more or less. Sex won't be that much of a problem. She doesn't have to worry about that. She can still watch him dance, if that'll help assuage whatever guilt she feels for something over which she had, obviously and unfortunately, absolutely no control. Keeping up their agreements doesn't really cost him anything; Jolyne had and still has no true intention to harm him. Of course she doesn't. He's still of use to her.

For Therion, all Jolyne's unwilling betrayal amounted to was a reminder of what people really are: hurt waiting to happen. Surrounded as he is, he never should have let his guard start to slacken at all. That's all it is. A rookie mistake.

He's prepared to offer her his tired reassurances--he won't be cutting Jolyne off the things she gets from him, she doesn't have to worry--when she drops that F-bomb. And the F doesn't stand for fuck, in this case.

It's like getting brained by a low-hanging beam he didn't realize was there. Like tripping over the bottom stair in the dark. Like stepping back to find air instead of ground. All the things Therion thought he knew, thought were fine--well, now he doesn't know a damned thing.]

You. What?

[Between them, the back of the chair he's sitting on is an entirely inadequate barrier.]

Edited (You know what it's Christmas and I'll edit to use my favorite icon instead, fight me) 2019-12-26 03:20 (UTC)

[It's what happens when you have someone as unstable on an emotional front as her, someone that doesn't entirely know how to deal with anything outside of anger and fight, unused to how to deal with things softer than that. Things that are nicer than those particular emotions.

She figured she'd get some canned answer, he's far more guarded than she is and she's come to accept that at some point. It's easier for the both of them, safer for the both of them. Until she's breaking that with a simple sentence and throwing them both off.

But she can't just not say something, right? No, this was important to get across and she's pushing herself to stand and start pacing. Jolyne had never done well standing or sitting still and when a situation is like this? Even doubly so.]

God... [It's coming out in a soft breath, she knows what she's said and is pretty damn sure she's gone and screwed things up yet again. She'd told herself several times not to get to this point, to not entertain this point, she'd been the one to make that deal, after all. Don't get involved, don't get close, hold everything at arm's length. Until she doesn't and inevitably finds herself back in this situation again.]

There I go, runnin' my fuckin' mouth again without thinking, huh? [She sounds uneasy, trying to find some way to backtrack on everything but finding her usual methods unavailable to her. Great, grand.]

Can't take it back now, I guess. I... evidently I'm a fucking liar when I said I wouldn't get attached somehow. Tried real fuckin' hard and evidently failed real fucking hard. Wouldn't blame you if you wanted to back out right now, that wasn't the deal in the slightest, was it? [There she goes, trying to wave it off, trying to find some way to get back to normal once more. No showing of emotions, no weaknesses to be shown beneath the layers of wall she'd been wanting to put up. Don't get attached. Even if she knows damn well she does not sound remotely like she believes her own words.]

[He tenses when she stands, and even when he sees it's just restless pacing, he doesn't un-tense. Feelings... Attachment? No, no, that's completely insane, she wouldn't if she actually knew anything about him--if she knew what he was. What he is.

He could understand her enjoying his company, or appreciating his talents, or even just liking his sense of humor, or whatever. He does that on purpose. But she's saying this goes beyond the scope of their deal. So whatever it is--whatever her feelings are--it's not back to business as usual.]

You... you realize I've given you no reason to trust me. Hell, I've given you a lot not to. Right? [Jolyne's had more opportunity than nearly anyone to see just how sketchy he is.] So when you say attached...

[It's difficult to say whether his expression is wary, incredulous, or straight-up nervous.]

[Or it could be that being an absolute imbecile and trusting people who shouldn't be trusted just runs in her family's blood. It wouldn't be far from the truth, really. But she's silent as she listens to what he's saying, her pacing not stopping. If this gets the energy out, then all the better for her.]

Oh yes, because I've given you so many reasons to trust me, either. [There's a lot in her tone from sarcasm to desperation and a few different things in between. She knows this isn't where she's supposed to be, that she didn't want to end up where she is. And yet she knows that's a lie and the fact she's not sure if she can dial things back is far more upsetting than she would care to admit to.]

Fuck, my taste in everyone and everything is awful, I'm sure you've figured that out by now. My fucking past is tainted like no fucking tomorrow, even my idea of friends is fucking tainted. But that's just it, I don't want someone that's squeaky fucking clean because that shit is the most untrustworthy thing on the face of the goddamned planet. [That's just it, isn't it? At least someone that's... at least open about this kind of mess you can rely on to not be hiding shit beneath the surface. That they won't turn around and stab you in the back the second they get the chance.]

I don't know if I made any damn sense anymore, but that's the whole thing about it. I don't want some fairytale-ass bullshit, I don't need that kind of shit in my life. That's boring and I sure as shit don't come off that way, I'd hope. [Any notions about anything being normal has already long since left years ago, any ideal life or relationship or future already down the toilet. She's not normal. Never has been. Why pretend to be?]

I--no. The hell?

[Since when were they talking about stuff like that, fairy tales and wanting someone and whether or not--and where'd this idea bubble up from?--she's boring?

Her pacing makes him feel trapped, which he tolerates for all of three seconds before he stops tapping his fingers on the back of her chair and gets up, too, crossing soundlessly to the window. Therion stands there, holding his elbows, looking down four stories at the grounds below instead of at her, at her emotion and energy.]

It's not about your taste. Or anyone else's. Or about how squeaky clean you know I'm not.

[Without thinking about it, he draws one of his arms up until the metal of the shackle presses through his hoodie into his collarbone. Only then does he half-turn to look at her over his shoulder.]

But Jolyne, what else can you even really say you know about me?

[The scars on his back, hidden under everything he wears, face her nonetheless.]

[It's not her intention to trap him, she knows perfectly well he can leave through that window whenever he wants as she never locks the damn thing. There's no reason to do so, she's never had any reason to be bothered by something or someone trying to come into her room. It never mattered.

The question is what stops her pacing, chest heaving with almost panicked breaths before she's taking control of what she can. Close your eyes, focus on your breathing, in a rhythm...

Right. Right right right, this is what she's supposed to do. Keep calm. Remain calm. Or try to.]

Just forget I fucking said anything, I know this isn't the conversation you wanna have and I just kinda... brought it up out of fucking nowhere. [At least she sounds calmer than she did, not that she's looking at him, but it's easier to speak and focus on her breaths if she has nothing to look at.]

All I'm gonna do is fuck everything up and get myself hurt if I keep talking or entertaining the idea of any of this shit, right? So it's better if I just. Don't. And stop right where the fuck I am.

[None of that is an answer to his question. In a way, that is the answer to his question.

What can she say she knows about him? Nothing. Not a single person here knows a real damn thing about him, because that's how he keeps it, that's the only way he doesn't get himself hurt. It's better if he just doesn't. That's what he's learned after all this time.

So why does it feel so shitty, listening to Jolyne talk like it's all her fault? All her pain to avoid? Why does it sting, unexpectedly, not to hear her try to answer?

Maybe it's because he holds all the cards. Maybe it's because he owes her something, after all the ways she's looked out for him, complied with his need for darkness and secrecy. Maybe she at least deserves to know the shape of who he is--what it is she has some kind of who-the-fuck-knows feelings for.

Maybe he's a fool.]

I'm a thief, Jolyne.

[He says it quietly: a bare, simple confession.]

What happened there, in the Outlands... is how it's meant to go for people like me. ['This was bound to happen, mate.'] I know it wasn't you, that you wouldn't turn on me like that. I knew it wasn't you even then.

[With that, he exhales heavily and braces his hands on the window sill.]

It just made me realize I was letting my guard down.

[And that's not something he can do and survive.]

[It's an answer she doesn't want to give, something she would much rather avoid because she knows what the point of it is and she... doesn't want to think much of it. In a way she knows she jumps the gun every single time, before she knows a goddamned thing about anyone. It's just sort of her nature to rush into things and worry about the issues later down the line, if at all.

Which might be why his words aren't making her feel any better about this situation and she's right back to pacing. But luckily there's... less panic to it and more a need to do something other than sit still. She never stayed still for long and even now that stands true.]

No fucking shit you're a thief. I don't have a fuckin' place to judge that, it's only being here that I've cleaned any of my own fucking act up. I was trying, kinda, before. I was a fucking gangster of a sort, I fucking mugged people, I was a fucking carjacker. So no fucking shit I realized that. Goddamn.

[In a way it's almost nice to get this shit off her chest, even if it's not doing anything for her in the long or short run. She knows it's not her fault. She knows that he knows that. He only needed to say that once. But it doesn't feel like it's not. And if she's so easy to manipulate? Then that's even more concerning to her, to be out of control like that.

But before she can speak again, it's the last past that causes her to pause to finally look at him, nails biting into the palms of her hands hard enough to turn her knuckles white.]

Maybe, for fucking once, that'd be good for you to do. It's absolutely fucking frustrating to just try and talk to you sometimes. It just feels like everything is fucking calculated down to the smallest and most insignificant detail and it drives me nuts. [Deep breaths, right. Don't get to this point again.]

I'm not saying that you absolutely have to, you have your fucking reasons. It's just that it feels like I just turn everything over and I have to pull teeth to get a damn thing from you. I don't hate you, I don't despite you, none of that shit at all. I want to know more and you won't fucking let me.

[W. Wait. Wh.]

...You knew I was a thief and you let me in your room?

[HE CAN ONLY HANDLE ONE THING AT A TIME, JESUS.]

[THERION, HONEY, YOU ARE THE MOST OBVIOUS THIEF.

And she's actually just staring at him and any frustration and bluster has died out into her actually laughing.

This is great.]

You are the fucking worst at hiding that shit, dude. Also tell me what I even have in here that's worth stealing.

[Therion: Makes his network username "tea leaf" like no one will know that's Cockney rhyming slang for thief
Therion: Tags along on Phantom Thief missions for the lolz
Therion: Constantly stealing miscellaneous items from fellow classmates
Therion: LIVING A LIFE OF CONSTANT SKETCHINESS
Anyone: So, you're a thief, right
Therion: nANI???

Great. Now it's his turn to feel flustered and emotional and exposed, clutching his scarf up over the entire lower half of his face.]

Wow. Thanks.

[X(((((]

It's the kind of thing that's easier to hide when you can leave.

[There, now that's two things she knows. He's a thief and he's trapped here.]

[This is the best right now and she's honestly glad that they've ended up here instead of... whatever the hell they were doing before.]

Yeah, well. Are you really going to complain when the food here is free and good and you don't have to pay for jack fucking shit? [She sure isn't. She's ate better here than she has anywhere else ever and not felt a second bad about it.]

You want to tell me any other shocking revelations or is that about all I'm getting?

Glad one of us is having fun.

[Now he's just sulking. Well, actually, the sulking's at least partially a cover for how off-balance he's been thrown; maybe these aren't shocking revelations to her, but he's having a time, okay?]

...Isn't that enough for one day? Not like there's that much more to know. Nothing you can't guess from context.

Don't have to sulk over it.

[It's better than her having an actual crisis, isn't it? Letting her have a moment to focus on something else and relax a little.

Especially when she's finally sitting again and just trying to beckon him.]

Come here a sec, wanna show you something. I'm done prying into your life's history for the day, promise.

[It's a struggle, because really he'd like to leave and go soothe his wounded pride and also freak out a little about someone knowing his occupation without him realizing, but eventually, he accedes.]

...Fine.

[He stops clinging to his scarf and slinks over, still wearing his grouchy face.]

[There's something about that grouchy face that amuses her far too much, which... gave her an idea, actually.

Hopefully she can get around a little issue here by playing him just right. Mostly by first trying to reach out to take his arm. Gentle touches, Jolyne.

Which she's fairly certain he won't let her do, but this is just the first step.]

[Yeah, no. Of course he pulls his arm away, that's just instinct, and now he's even more confused. He frowns, trying to read her intention off her face.]

What?

[Yep, that's what she thought he'd do. And she's absolutely frowning at him, maybe this will work...]

I just need your arm for a second, trust me for once. It's nothing bad.

[Whether it'd be good for him or not, letting his guard down isn't something that comes easily to Therion, especially when he's already out of sorts. Even with her assurances, it takes him a moment to decide.

In the end, though, he sighs through his nose and holds that arm she wanted out, palm-up, towards her.]

[Good.

Because she's a liar and just going to take his wrist gently in one hand and then absolutely turn shit around to try and get a quick cheek peck.

The second she does or doesn't get that is when she lets go and is up and moving again. Mostly to compose herself and unlock that door if he feels the need to flee. She's not sure why she's doing that, but something in her is telling her that she's probably pushed her luck far enough that a retreat would be necessary.]

[Therion's powers are finely tuned for dodging knives and punches. Not soft schoolyard kisses.

Jolyne disengages and he jumps back, hand up and over his face--not where her lips landed, but where the heat's rushing up to the surface. Turns out he's not too dark-skinned to blush.

He looks like he might say something, like he's trying to think of something to say, but he finally just clears his throat and makes his escape quick. Once he's safely out in the hall, he glances back, taking another breath like he'd like to get the last word in...

But then he just hides his whole face in his hand, too flustered even to speak, and hurries off.]

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Jolyne Cujoh, a liar

HOW WILL HE EVER TRUST AGAIN