[ the girl can see them? ...see Monts, at least. the disquieted look on Monts' face as the child casts her ire out is...
you're 'not me?' --ah. her complexion is similar, isn't it? her hair, and what he can see of the face, it might just be...
...he's gently resting a hand on her shoulder to steady her, trying to step between her and the image of the child reflected on the surface of the mirror. ]
--It's not real.
[ trying to goad her to look at him, instead of the ghost of a girl who cannot be here in this room - because she already is. ]
It's alright. Let's find out way out, okay...? [ why is this place so impossible to pin down? one moment, it was kind, light-hearted - even generous. and others... it liked to dig and prod at places it had no right going with such callous ease. he really hates this look in her eyes. ]
Abel, Iβ... [ Monts allows him to step in between her and the reflection, but the mirror girl continues her tirade against the older girl. ]
Give it back! Why did you have to do that back then!? GIVE IT BACK, GIVE IT BACK!!
[ Her voice is turning into high-pitched and feverish shrieks as her small fists begin to beat against the mirror from her side. It gives off the terrifying effect of making the other mirrors in the hall shudder from the force of the girl's continued hits. ]
GET OUT! GET OUT OF ME YOU MONSTER, GIVEITBACKGIVEITBACKGIVEITBACKGIVEITBACKGIVEITBACKGIVEITBACKGIVEITBACK!!!
[ Cracks begin to form in the spot where the mirror girl was beating her fist against. Monts' eyes widen and without thinking, she shoves Abel aside. ]
Watch out!!
[ The mirror girl's screams finally end as the mirror cracks and breaks, shards flying in their direction, but mostly at Monts who doesn't even flinch as pieces of glass land on her face, some shards leaving cuts on her forehead and cheeks and even on her eyelids. The girl is gone and it's silent with only a hole in the wall to indicate there was something even there. ]
Father Abel, are you okay?
[ Monts is the one asking that and yet she took the brunt of the broken mirror. As she looks at the priest, her wounds are already closing although traces of blood trickle down her cheek and onto her neck. ]
[ it's terribly hard to ignore the frantic, near manic cries from behind him -- and though he tells himself it would be best to ignore the spectre that isn't truly here, he spares a glance for the child's vicious demands. her small hands beat against the surface furiously -- her anger, her accusation felt in every reverberation of the room.
--and before he can open his mouth to try and plead his case with her, he finds himself unceremoniously shoved and stumbling aside, catching himself along the length of a mirror. he flinches instinctively as glass pieces scatter and spray outward, lifting an arm to guard his face; due to Monts' fast action, there's nigh but a few pieces stuck harmlessly in his coat, barely a shallow cut at his cheekbone.
the priest dazedly takes in the state of the wall where the broken mirror had been. illusion or not... whatever she had been had a very real effect on this place. but he doesn't dwell long-- taking in the sight of Monts' scratched up face, and... ]
You're bleeding--
[ whether she feels pain or not isn't any concern of his. Abel is straightening and quickly bridging the meager gap between them, eyes flickering over the thin lines of red marring her face, her throat. apologetically wincing (even if she might not feel it), he's reaching out to oh-so-gently pry little glass pieces from where they'd been lodged. ]
...Sit still, just for a moment. Are you alright--? That, ah...
[ ...was unpleasant, to say the least. was that girl truly her? her hatred, her anger... her pain.
[ She nods in confirmation and stands still as he removes the remaining shards. ]
I can register most textures and temperatures, just not if it's causing me damage. Soft, hard, smooth, rough, different types of cloth, and most everything else. I have tastebuds too. I can feel warm and cold, but anything extreme, my body starts to tune it out.
[Such as a burn on her hand or if she's in a cold environment below zero. ]
It becomes hard for me to notice unless parts of me can't function. And even then, I'll just get back up.
... You know, for the longest time, I really couldn't sympathize with anyone who was in pain because I didn't understand what it was like.
[ When she couldn't sympathize, she couldn't be kind and it shut off part of her that was supposed to be human. ]
My grandfather had to explain it to me in his own way. So I get it to an extent... But it's a reminder to me you know? That I'm not...
[ She trails off unsure of how to end her sentence or what words would sound correct without being too pitiful. ]
his expression slowly softens, and-- he nods. there is something a little complicated in his eyes as he mulls this over, but inevitably - the encouraging sort of smile finds his lips again as he plucks out the last little pieces. ]
You look perfectly you, from here.
[ 'so don't worry about it'? no; he knows better than to try and dismiss something as deep-seated as anxiety over identity and finding her place in the world. but Monts is Monts... it's as simple as that, right? it is to him, anyway. ]
[ She looks towards the hole made in the mirror that leads to the other side and then back at her feet. Wordlessly, she takes Abel's hands in both of hers, closing her eyes.
She doesn't say anything. She just holds his hands as if trying to find and latch onto the sensation and texture she is able to feel. There's security in the touch of others which before Monts would seek out and then throw away as soon as she got bored or unsatisfied with what was given.
It's selfish and childish, but sometimes just a little was all she needed. ]
[ She has yet to let go of his hands, but her grip loosens as she opens her eyes and stares at her own fingers intertwined with his. ]
... One day, I woke up in a cave on a beach. My older brother found me there. Both he and my father were looking all over for me that afternoon.
[ It is a day she recalls vividly. The smell of salty ocean air, the sand clinging to her ankles and between her toes, her brother scolding her for wandering so far away from him, and the dazedness of her mind as she followed her brother back. ]
I... Knew what my name was. But I didn't understand who I was. And it wasn't amnesia.
[ Something was born anew in that cave that day. ]
Before we even noticed the mark in my body, I looked at myself and my one thought was..
[ She releases Abel's hands and stares at her open palms. ]
his brow furrows softly as she speaks; he is attentive, understanding the importance of a piece of her that had been paraded before both their eyes unbidden. the sand-dusted girl in the sundress... the accusation, and fear, and pain--
those were all hers, but not hers all at once. because it was her, but wasn't her anymore - is that it...?
he gently takes one of her palms between his own, and smooths his thumb across the skin. it's gentle, and light, like tracing a fine line that might distract her wandering mind or anchor her in the present when ghosts of the past were nipping potently at her ankles. ]
...It must have been hard, especially being so young. [ trying to understand what had happened to her, never mind feeling like a stranger in her own skin. ] Did you ever find out...? Where you'd been? What happened to you, that day?
[ Monts shakes her head slowly as his thumb traces across her palm. ]
All I know is there was some girl who existed as a human without a mark and then there was me. I woke up and that girl was gone.
[ Everything else that followed was just one visceral discovery after another where she had to constantly adjust to fit in with her surroundings while constantly feeling trapped in her own skin. Monts' eyes are so pained and yet she can't even cry for herself. ]
... Let's keep moving. I can't even see behind us anymore.
[ True to her word, behind them, the hallway is darkened obscuring the path they had taken to get to where they are currently. ]
[ she hadn't asked for it. hadn't been prepared, either. something had taken her over, and stolen a piece from her she had never gotten back.
...
his hand briefly tightens over hers, a slight tensing of his jaw the only sign of his empathy for her pain. she might not cry for herself, but... he feels quite like she might as well for the look on her face.
she wants to move on; he isn't sure if it's wise. is going back even an option...? he isn't sure if they would be chased by ghosts or spectres, or something worse regardless the direction they chose. in the end... perhaps the best thing he can do is simply stay by her side. ]
...Then, I'm with you.
[ in more ways than one. hopefully she understands. ]
[ She chooses to go by way of the broken mirror seeing how it conveniently opened up another path for them. The dark ring on her neck swirls menacingly and covering a larger area of her neck and shoulders. ]
Well... At least you'll know that I can make it out in one piece.
[ There's an attempt at levity here even as she lets go of his hands and wraps her arms around herself. ]
Not sure about you, but if I'm still standing, I'll make sure to take all six feet of you with me too, okay?
[ As they enter the next section, this hall of mirrors shows Abel's reflection, but not hers. Odd. And there are voices echoing off the walls... Great. ]
[ ...he has to admit, there is no shortage of trepidation in his footsteps as he passes through the wall in through to the other side. he isn't certain what they'll find here, and despite her efforts to lighten the mood - something heavy is still sitting low in his stomach. apprehensive...? anxious, yes. worried about her, the unnatural discoloration spreading at the nape of her neck unavoidable as he trails from behind.
does she know...? should he worry?
...could she even do anything about it? or is this, too, something beyond her control, something she had to wrestle with since leaving that girl on the beach behind?
--ah. he's letting his thoughts get away from him. clearing his throat, he casts a wary glance around their surroundings, prodding gently at his glasses. there are his own blue eyes peering back at him, this time -- but... a glance to his side where Monts is standing yields no double in the mirror. it's a little disorienting. ]
...Please be sure to be gentle with me, would you? [ ...you know. when she carries him out. his smile is a little absent, for obvious reasons-- ] I'm... ah. Very delicate, remember...
[ he shakes his head with no small measure of apology on his face, patting himself down for good measure-- ]
No, I'm afraid I'm out. I usually carry more, if I know I'll be here for a while, but...
[ ...you know, he figured he would be shoving exactly 58 cotton candies in his piehole, harassing cute girls his friends and then leaving, ]
...I don't think I recognize any of them. [ but the echo of voices is, admittedly... not his favorite sound; he rubs lightly at his temple, keeping Monts at his shoulder. ]
Miss Monts...? I'm repeating myself, but I mean it. I'm by your side, so-- please don't forget it.
[ regardless what happens, she isn't alone. ...and it really wouldn't do for her to lose herself in this place. he... definitely cannot let that happen. ]
[ She knows because Abel is that kind of person who has offered his all without really asking anything big in return. He may be silly, idiotic, and childish, but when Monts recalls the tarot reading given to him, she intrinsically understands that there is more. ]
You're the type of person who'd annoy me to death if I forget.
[ The voices are starting to sound clearer and clearer until they're both able to make out the words. ]
... God Monts, way to ruin the mood tonight.
Fucking HELL, Reyes, she was drunk! What kind of fucking mood were you going for?!
[ There's a sharp intake of breath from Monts who recognizes the last voice of her own. ]
[ ...the smile he offers her in response to her quip is the self-satisfied sort.
apparently he takes pride in the fact she's right. he would annoy her to death if she forgot, so much better for everyone if she doesn't! that's all there is to it.
however, that smile is slipping as the distant sound of voices become less an incomprehensible hum and something more... tangible. Abel's tilting his head, eyes flickering across the mirrors - above... to the sides, trying to see if anything should appear.
but the quiet expletive from Monts' mouth has him casting her a glance. ...that sounded an awful lot like her, didn't it?
he slides discreetly closer. ]
...It seems you're a subject of interest, today. I wish I could say it must be nice to be so well-loved, but...
[ for what it's worth? he is sorry for that fact. something here has enjoyed digging around in her head. ]
[ She steadies her breathing and hugs herself even more tightly. These voices aren't trying to make up a scene whole cloth. ]
This... This happened before. A while ago.
[ It was a while ago and yet not all that long either. The surfaces of the mirrors shimmer for a second causing a ripple, but her reflection remains non-existent. The voices, however, continue to play out. ]
Look, I'm just sick of your guys' bullshit. If you wanted to get some, you know better than to do it to someone who can't even walk straight!
[ It's unmistakably her voice. The other voices are mostly male, some sounding inebriated, others barely sober. ]
What, you jealous Monts? You've been playing cool and all, but I know you miss it sometimes.
I'd miss it if there were anything to miss asshole. Anyways, the party's over, I'm going home.
Don't act like you're so high and mighty. The fuck's goin' on? Why do you feel like being an uppity bitch all of a sudden?
I don't have to answer you. Outta my way.
[ There's a sound of some struggling. ]
Now hold on, you don't get to talk to us like thatβ... OW! Fuck, you pushed me! Son of a bitch, do you take steroids or something?!
Of course, I pushed you. You don't get to grab me by the wrist like that.
[ Over the din of the anger fueled argument, Monts in the present is staring at the floor and an audible murmur emits from her lips. ]
[ ...ugly, and distasteful. to rattle the things hiding in someone's cage and put them on display can be described no other way.
Abel hates to see her this way. she looks painfully small all the sudden - this person who is normally so well put together. so much rolls right off her back like water. (or is that just what she wants others to believe? at this point, he isn't so sure.) he wishes he could drown out the noise - that putting his hands over her ears would make it stop. he doubts it would.
this isn't the type of performance one would be permitted to tune out, after all.
grimace at his lips, he focuses his attention on trying to find any way forward or out of this room. it might be a futile effort, but... it's better than standing here watching her torture herself over a past she can't change. ]
...We'll be out soon. Please hang in there with me, alright?
[ ...seven years bad luck seems a slim price to pay, he's finding. would shattering these lead them to a new route out of this mess? he's sorely tempted, casting a glance back over his shoulder at her vulnerable form behind him. ...for all Monts is more durable than most, it seems her heart is just as fragile and human in the end. ]
[ She's squeezing her eyes shut and nods rapidly in response to the priest's reassurance. But she knows all too well what comes next.
The girl who can't die is afraid of dying. Of course, her life can't be ended easily, but it can come to a stop again, and again, and again, and again... This was the night that confirmed her suspicions about her body that was combined with something of an otherworldly nature. It had taken a year for this memory to lighten its burden on her shoulders lest she dwells too much and remembers the sheer rage that bubbles up beneath the surface. ]
So that's how you want it bitch? You wanna see how YOU like it when I push you?
Go ahead asshole!
Whoa, whoa, whoa guys, guys...!
Eeeeyyy, is it a lover's spat going on?
[ There's yelling and namecalling and the shuffling noise of jumbled footsteps. Monts has her head in her hands now and her mark is spreading across her body all the way down to her fingertips. ]
Nonononono, not again, not again, not again...!
Leave me alone!
No, YOU don't get to act like you're better than all of us! See how YOU like itβ!!
... Ah...!
[ There's shouting, horrified gasps, and then... There's movement in one of the mirrors now and it looks like a body falling down from a great height. When it hits the floor an ugly, ugly sound from the impact follows. ]
SNAP.
[ Monts lets out a strangled noise as both the memory from the mirrors and her in the present synch up together. She couldn't feel anything back then and she can't feel anything now, but she covers her face as her body is swallowed up by the darkness under her skin. She stops right in front of the body reflecting back at her shuddering uncontrollably. ]
... Shit... Fuck, Monts, get up, you're just fucking pretending...!
Bro, what the FUCK.
Shit, fuck is she breathing!? Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!
Call the cops or 911, something, fuck I don't know!
Didn't you hear that?! Something broke, she ain't gonna fucking move!!
What are we gonna do, holy shit...!!
[ The voices are utter chaos as and the horrifying realization of what has been done echoes all around them, ringing in their ears. It starts to slowly fade away, but Monts is not in a great state. ]
[ ...he physically jolts at the sound of impact, the unmistakable sound of a body colliding with the ground from a long fall. up until now, his eyes have been fixated on her deteriorating condition-- but this... invariably steals it.
it's more than slightly sickening. disturbing; a body that will not die, cannot feel pain can still suffer. she's definitely suffering, now.
...he realizes he's been lost to a useless stupor; Abel is afraid to startle her with contact as much as he wants to reassure her. his voice is low, a little hoarse over the din. ]
...Monts.
[ --please look at him. ]
I'm... sorry.
[ not nearly enough of a consolation; there probably isn't any. but the rapid spread of that mark across her skin and her trembling shoulders have him painfully aware she isn't in any state to care, in all likelihood.
with the utmost gentility, he reaches for her hand to attempt to re-anchor her in the moment. ]
...Please look at me, don't... don't look at that.
[ Her mark lingers around on her body. The parts that aren't covered are slowly turning pale and unearthly white. Under the light, her mark shimmers like a deep black crimson. In the mirror, the body is also starting to look more like Monts also going through the same transformation. Her body stops shuddering and for a moment she doesn't say anything.
When she does though... ]
Father Abel.
[ There's a different quality to her voice. It lacks weakness and Monts' inherent sweetness that she has for everyone. Hands drop to the side, dangling side to side. ]
I have several sins, so many, so many. Would you like to hear them? Oh, but you heard so much already, but you don't know all of it. You're going to ask, aren't you? I'll let you know so you don't incessantly try to open me up when you won't let me tear you open.
[ Monts looks up at him and... Her eyes are black with red pupils replacing the blue-greens. She's human-shaped but covered in her mark that splits and scatters across her body like flower petals, constantly on the move. The body in the mirror finally reflects her, the monster standing in front of Abel Nightroad and it stands up until it perfectly matches up to her. ]
Well? Here I am! The sum of a failure. I'm so happy you can see all of me, truly!
[ --that icy pit he had lingering in his stomach, the feeling of quiet anxiety blooms in earnest as their eyes meet.
he doesn't even need to see anything else to know this is not the woman he'd been reaching for, even if it inhabits her skin. could speak just like her if it wanted to, he's sure. might vaguely resemble her on some basic level, but... it isn't her.
it took something. is still taking things, now.
the numb sort of shock that's stolen his features fades into wariness that wars with concern. ]
...Please don't say those kind of things from her mouth.
[ ... ]
Miss Monts...? Can you hear me?
[ his only concern is grasping whatever is left of her, before it's too late.
...he should have asked her about this. he should have seen things were becoming too much; can she lose herself--? is he simply letting fears of that thing project onto her and her predicament?
he really doesn't want to find out the hard way. ]
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no subject
you're 'not me?' --ah. her complexion is similar, isn't it? her hair, and what he can see of the face, it might just be...
...he's gently resting a hand on her shoulder to steady her, trying to step between her and the image of the child reflected on the surface of the mirror. ]
--It's not real.
[ trying to goad her to look at him, instead of the ghost of a girl who cannot be here in this room - because she already is. ]
It's alright. Let's find out way out, okay...? [ why is this place so impossible to pin down? one moment, it was kind, light-hearted - even generous. and others... it liked to dig and prod at places it had no right going with such callous ease. he really hates this look in her eyes. ]
no subject
Give it back! Why did you have to do that back then!? GIVE IT BACK, GIVE IT BACK!!
[ Her voice is turning into high-pitched and feverish shrieks as her small fists begin to beat against the mirror from her side. It gives off the terrifying effect of making the other mirrors in the hall shudder from the force of the girl's continued hits. ]
GET OUT! GET OUT OF ME YOU MONSTER, GIVEITBACKGIVEITBACKGIVEITBACKGIVEITBACKGIVEITBACKGIVEITBACKGIVEITBACK!!!
[ Cracks begin to form in the spot where the mirror girl was beating her fist against. Monts' eyes widen and without thinking, she shoves Abel aside. ]
Watch out!!
[ The mirror girl's screams finally end as the mirror cracks and breaks, shards flying in their direction, but mostly at Monts who doesn't even flinch as pieces of glass land on her face, some shards leaving cuts on her forehead and cheeks and even on her eyelids. The girl is gone and it's silent with only a hole in the wall to indicate there was something even there. ]
Father Abel, are you okay?
[ Monts is the one asking that and yet she took the brunt of the broken mirror. As she looks at the priest, her wounds are already closing although traces of blood trickle down her cheek and onto her neck. ]
Sorry, I wasn't thinking andβ...!
no subject
--and before he can open his mouth to try and plead his case with her, he finds himself unceremoniously shoved and stumbling aside, catching himself along the length of a mirror. he flinches instinctively as glass pieces scatter and spray outward, lifting an arm to guard his face; due to Monts' fast action, there's nigh but a few pieces stuck harmlessly in his coat, barely a shallow cut at his cheekbone.
the priest dazedly takes in the state of the wall where the broken mirror had been. illusion or not... whatever she had been had a very real effect on this place. but he doesn't dwell long-- taking in the sight of Monts' scratched up face, and... ]
You're bleeding--
[ whether she feels pain or not isn't any concern of his. Abel is straightening and quickly bridging the meager gap between them, eyes flickering over the thin lines of red marring her face, her throat. apologetically wincing (even if she might not feel it), he's reaching out to oh-so-gently pry little glass pieces from where they'd been lodged. ]
...Sit still, just for a moment. Are you alright--? That, ah...
[ ...was unpleasant, to say the least. was that girl truly her? her hatred, her anger... her pain.
'monster.' ... ]
no subject
I'm fine. It doesn't hurt.
[ Even if that were true on the surface level, the look her eyes (she barely blinks as he takes out the glass from her face) says so otherwise. ]
... Guess we'll be stuck in here for the time being together, huh?
[ It's not a question of if they're stuck, it's just how long will it be at this point. ]
no subject
You don't feel any of this at all...?
[ he knows. but it's simply painful to look at, and he supposes being cut off like this is unpleasant in its own way. ]
...Do you feel anything? [ what about more pleasant sensations? petting a dog's fur, or feeling someone's hair through your fingers.
...if they can't escape, then-- he might as well address this. ]
no subject
I can register most textures and temperatures, just not if it's causing me damage. Soft, hard, smooth, rough, different types of cloth, and most everything else. I have tastebuds too. I can feel warm and cold, but anything extreme, my body starts to tune it out.
[Such as a burn on her hand or if she's in a cold environment below zero. ]
It becomes hard for me to notice unless parts of me can't function. And even then, I'll just get back up.
... You know, for the longest time, I really couldn't sympathize with anyone who was in pain because I didn't understand what it was like.
[ When she couldn't sympathize, she couldn't be kind and it shut off part of her that was supposed to be human. ]
My grandfather had to explain it to me in his own way. So I get it to an extent... But it's a reminder to me you know? That I'm not...
[ She trails off unsure of how to end her sentence or what words would sound correct without being too pitiful. ]
no subject
his expression slowly softens, and-- he nods. there is something a little complicated in his eyes as he mulls this over, but inevitably - the encouraging sort of smile finds his lips again as he plucks out the last little pieces. ]
You look perfectly you, from here.
[ 'so don't worry about it'? no; he knows better than to try and dismiss something as deep-seated as anxiety over identity and finding her place in the world. but Monts is Monts... it's as simple as that, right? it is to him, anyway. ]
Good as new.
no subject
[ She looks towards the hole made in the mirror that leads to the other side and then back at her feet. Wordlessly, she takes Abel's hands in both of hers, closing her eyes.
She doesn't say anything. She just holds his hands as if trying to find and latch onto the sensation and texture she is able to feel. There's security in the touch of others which before Monts would seek out and then throw away as soon as she got bored or unsatisfied with what was given.
It's selfish and childish, but sometimes just a little was all she needed. ]
no subject
Did that girlβ what she said...
[ ... ]
Did that mean something to you?
no subject
... One day, I woke up in a cave on a beach. My older brother found me there. Both he and my father were looking all over for me that afternoon.
[ It is a day she recalls vividly. The smell of salty ocean air, the sand clinging to her ankles and between her toes, her brother scolding her for wandering so far away from him, and the dazedness of her mind as she followed her brother back. ]
I... Knew what my name was. But I didn't understand who I was. And it wasn't amnesia.
[ Something was born anew in that cave that day. ]
Before we even noticed the mark in my body, I looked at myself and my one thought was..
[ She releases Abel's hands and stares at her open palms. ]
"Why am I like this?"
no subject
his brow furrows softly as she speaks; he is attentive, understanding the importance of a piece of her that had been paraded before both their eyes unbidden. the sand-dusted girl in the sundress... the accusation, and fear, and pain--
those were all hers, but not hers all at once. because it was her, but wasn't her anymore - is that it...?
he gently takes one of her palms between his own, and smooths his thumb across the skin. it's gentle, and light, like tracing a fine line that might distract her wandering mind or anchor her in the present when ghosts of the past were nipping potently at her ankles. ]
...It must have been hard, especially being so young. [ trying to understand what had happened to her, never mind feeling like a stranger in her own skin. ] Did you ever find out...? Where you'd been? What happened to you, that day?
no subject
All I know is there was some girl who existed as a human without a mark and then there was me. I woke up and that girl was gone.
[ Everything else that followed was just one visceral discovery after another where she had to constantly adjust to fit in with her surroundings while constantly feeling trapped in her own skin. Monts' eyes are so pained and yet she can't even cry for herself. ]
... Let's keep moving. I can't even see behind us anymore.
[ True to her word, behind them, the hallway is darkened obscuring the path they had taken to get to where they are currently. ]
no subject
...
his hand briefly tightens over hers, a slight tensing of his jaw the only sign of his empathy for her pain. she might not cry for herself, but... he feels quite like she might as well for the look on her face.
she wants to move on; he isn't sure if it's wise. is going back even an option...? he isn't sure if they would be chased by ghosts or spectres, or something worse regardless the direction they chose. in the end... perhaps the best thing he can do is simply stay by her side. ]
...Then, I'm with you.
[ in more ways than one. hopefully she understands. ]
no subject
[ She chooses to go by way of the broken mirror seeing how it conveniently opened up another path for them. The dark ring on her neck swirls menacingly and covering a larger area of her neck and shoulders. ]
Well... At least you'll know that I can make it out in one piece.
[ There's an attempt at levity here even as she lets go of his hands and wraps her arms around herself. ]
Not sure about you, but if I'm still standing, I'll make sure to take all six feet of you with me too, okay?
[ As they enter the next section, this hall of mirrors shows Abel's reflection, but not hers. Odd. And there are voices echoing off the walls... Great. ]
no subject
does she know...? should he worry?
...could she even do anything about it? or is this, too, something beyond her control, something she had to wrestle with since leaving that girl on the beach behind?
--ah. he's letting his thoughts get away from him. clearing his throat, he casts a wary glance around their surroundings, prodding gently at his glasses. there are his own blue eyes peering back at him, this time -- but... a glance to his side where Monts is standing yields no double in the mirror. it's a little disorienting. ]
...Please be sure to be gentle with me, would you? [ ...you know. when she carries him out. his smile is a little absent, for obvious reasons-- ] I'm... ah. Very delicate, remember...
[ those voices
are a little distracting. ]
no subject
[ But before she can continue the light back and forth the voices are in fact, distracting. Monts stops in her tracks listening. ]
It doesn't sound like anyone we know I hope...?
no subject
No, I'm afraid I'm out. I usually carry more, if I know I'll be here for a while, but...
[ ...you know, he figured he would be shoving exactly 58 cotton candies in his piehole, harassing
cute girlshis friends and then leaving, ]...I don't think I recognize any of them. [ but the echo of voices is, admittedly... not his favorite sound; he rubs lightly at his temple, keeping Monts at his shoulder. ]
Miss Monts...? I'm repeating myself, but I mean it. I'm by your side, so-- please don't forget it.
[ regardless what happens, she isn't alone. ...and it really wouldn't do for her to lose herself in this place. he... definitely cannot let that happen. ]
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[ She knows because Abel is that kind of person who has offered his all without really asking anything big in return. He may be silly, idiotic, and childish, but when Monts recalls the tarot reading given to him, she intrinsically understands that there is more. ]
You're the type of person who'd annoy me to death if I forget.
[ The voices are starting to sound clearer and clearer until they're both able to make out the words. ]
... God Monts, way to ruin the mood tonight.
Fucking HELL, Reyes, she was drunk! What kind of fucking mood were you going for?!
[ There's a sharp intake of breath from Monts who recognizes the last voice of her own. ]
Shit.
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apparently he takes pride in the fact she's right. he would annoy her to death if she forgot, so much better for everyone if she doesn't! that's all there is to it.
however, that smile is slipping as the distant sound of voices become less an incomprehensible hum and something more... tangible. Abel's tilting his head, eyes flickering across the mirrors - above... to the sides, trying to see if anything should appear.
but the quiet expletive from Monts' mouth has him casting her a glance. ...that sounded an awful lot like her, didn't it?
he slides discreetly closer. ]
...It seems you're a subject of interest, today. I wish I could say it must be nice to be so well-loved, but...
[ for what it's worth? he is sorry for that fact. something here has enjoyed digging around in her head. ]
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This... This happened before. A while ago.
[ It was a while ago and yet not all that long either. The surfaces of the mirrors shimmer for a second causing a ripple, but her reflection remains non-existent. The voices, however, continue to play out. ]
Look, I'm just sick of your guys' bullshit. If you wanted to get some, you know better than to do it to someone who can't even walk straight!
[ It's unmistakably her voice. The other voices are mostly male, some sounding inebriated, others barely sober. ]
What, you jealous Monts? You've been playing cool and all, but I know you miss it sometimes.
I'd miss it if there were anything to miss asshole. Anyways, the party's over, I'm going home.
Don't act like you're so high and mighty. The fuck's goin' on? Why do you feel like being an uppity bitch all of a sudden?
I don't have to answer you. Outta my way.
[ There's a sound of some struggling. ]
Now hold on, you don't get to talk to us like thatβ... OW! Fuck, you pushed me! Son of a bitch, do you take steroids or something?!
Of course, I pushed you. You don't get to grab me by the wrist like that.
[ Over the din of the anger fueled argument, Monts in the present is staring at the floor and an audible murmur emits from her lips. ]
Don't listen.
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Abel hates to see her this way. she looks painfully small all the sudden - this person who is normally so well put together. so much rolls right off her back like water. (or is that just what she wants others to believe? at this point, he isn't so sure.) he wishes he could drown out the noise - that putting his hands over her ears would make it stop. he doubts it would.
this isn't the type of performance one would be permitted to tune out, after all.
grimace at his lips, he focuses his attention on trying to find any way forward or out of this room. it might be a futile effort, but... it's better than standing here watching her torture herself over a past she can't change. ]
...We'll be out soon. Please hang in there with me, alright?
[ ...seven years bad luck seems a slim price to pay, he's finding. would shattering these lead them to a new route out of this mess? he's sorely tempted, casting a glance back over his shoulder at her vulnerable form behind him. ...for all Monts is more durable than most, it seems her heart is just as fragile and human in the end. ]
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The girl who can't die is afraid of dying. Of course, her life can't be ended easily, but it can come to a stop again, and again, and again, and again... This was the night that confirmed her suspicions about her body that was combined with something of an otherworldly nature. It had taken a year for this memory to lighten its burden on her shoulders lest she dwells too much and remembers the sheer rage that bubbles up beneath the surface. ]
So that's how you want it bitch? You wanna see how YOU like it when I push you?
Go ahead asshole!
Whoa, whoa, whoa guys, guys...!
Eeeeyyy, is it a lover's spat going on?
[ There's yelling and namecalling and the shuffling noise of jumbled footsteps. Monts has her head in her hands now and her mark is spreading across her body all the way down to her fingertips. ]
Nonononono, not again, not again, not again...!
Leave me alone!
No, YOU don't get to act like you're better than all of us! See how YOU like itβ!!
... Ah...!
[ There's shouting, horrified gasps, and then... There's movement in one of the mirrors now and it looks like a body falling down from a great height. When it hits the floor an ugly, ugly sound from the impact follows. ]
SNAP.
[ Monts lets out a strangled noise as both the memory from the mirrors and her in the present synch up together. She couldn't feel anything back then and she can't feel anything now, but she covers her face as her body is swallowed up by the darkness under her skin. She stops right in front of the body reflecting back at her shuddering uncontrollably. ]
... Shit... Fuck, Monts, get up, you're just fucking pretending...!
Bro, what the FUCK.
Shit, fuck is she breathing!? Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!
Call the cops or 911, something, fuck I don't know!
Didn't you hear that?! Something broke, she ain't gonna fucking move!!
What are we gonna do, holy shit...!!
[ The voices are utter chaos as and the horrifying realization of what has been done echoes all around them, ringing in their ears. It starts to slowly fade away, but Monts is not in a great state. ]
... They did that to me.
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it's more than slightly sickening. disturbing; a body that will not die, cannot feel pain can still suffer. she's definitely suffering, now.
...he realizes he's been lost to a useless stupor; Abel is afraid to startle her with contact as much as he wants to reassure her. his voice is low, a little hoarse over the din. ]
...Monts.
[ --please look at him. ]
I'm... sorry.
[ not nearly enough of a consolation; there probably isn't any. but the rapid spread of that mark across her skin and her trembling shoulders have him painfully aware she isn't in any state to care, in all likelihood.
with the utmost gentility, he reaches for her hand to attempt to re-anchor her in the moment. ]
...Please look at me, don't... don't look at that.
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When she does though... ]
Father Abel.
[ There's a different quality to her voice. It lacks weakness and Monts' inherent sweetness that she has for everyone. Hands drop to the side, dangling side to side. ]
I have several sins, so many, so many. Would you like to hear them? Oh, but you heard so much already, but you don't know all of it. You're going to ask, aren't you? I'll let you know so you don't incessantly try to open me up when you won't let me tear you open.
[ Monts looks up at him and... Her eyes are black with red pupils replacing the blue-greens. She's human-shaped but covered in her mark that splits and scatters across her body like flower petals, constantly on the move. The body in the mirror finally reflects her, the monster standing in front of Abel Nightroad and it stands up until it perfectly matches up to her. ]
Well? Here I am! The sum of a failure. I'm so happy you can see all of me, truly!
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he doesn't even need to see anything else to know this is not the woman he'd been reaching for, even if it inhabits her skin. could speak just like her if it wanted to, he's sure. might vaguely resemble her on some basic level, but... it isn't her.
it took something. is still taking things, now.
the numb sort of shock that's stolen his features fades into wariness that wars with concern. ]
...Please don't say those kind of things from her mouth.
[ ... ]
Miss Monts...? Can you hear me?
[ his only concern is grasping whatever is left of her, before it's too late.
...he should have asked her about this. he should have seen things were becoming too much; can she lose herself--? is he simply letting fears of that thing project onto her and her predicament?
he really doesn't want to find out the hard way. ]
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