[ 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. ]
[ She hums under her breath, amused by the priest's reaction. Taking a step back, her reflection appears in other mirrors as they naturally would. ]
Father Abel, don't you understand? I am not two parts, but one whole! I am what lingers in the mind, beneath the skin. I sleep, but I see everything through my eyes.
[ She gives a little spin and it would be almost seen as childish if it weren't for her otherworldly beauty as dark petals float across her face and hands. ]
Oh, this place, this foggy town, doesn't it makes you laugh? It pokes and jabs, it cuts, trying to see what's beneath. Well, I've answered its call and what for? You heard the voice, saw that sack of flesh. This... [ She puts a hand on her chest to gesture at herself. ]
So fragile, so frail, but I can fix myself over and over and not feel a thing. But you see...
[ Her hand gestures are grand as she continues her unhinged rambling. ]
If you handle me too roughly, I cannot move. And when that happens, well, it's only fair if I come out and play rough. For just a little while. Did you know what they did to me next before I decided to play with them?
is she lost in there? or is it like sleeping? he desperately wishes he knew, now - but there's nothing he can do but wait it out and pray. Monts was strong. she would come back; he refused to accept any other alternative.
playing games with monsters beyond human understanding is not as outrageous as it ought to be. he finds the hair on the back of his neck bristling, and there's an uncomfortable tension, a rigidity in his posture as he watches her regardless. ]
...People can be cruel. I can only imagine it was something you didn't deserve, and... I'm sorry for that.
[ ... ]
But you don't need to do this. [ show, or tell him any more. stay here anymore. ] Please go back to resting for a while; I'm sure that woman is waiting eagerly to wake up again.
[ She laughs at his pleading. Voices of the perpetrators start echoing through the halls again and she looks past him, her gaze distant. ]
I can move on, but I'll never really forget you know? This world of mirrors just brings out the sweet taste of anger, always at the tip of my tongue.
[ The flower starts walking past him arms spread wide as the voices replay that fateful night. ]
M-MONTS?! Y-You're still alive? What the FUCK you're supposed to beβ...!!
[ The sound of a gunshot. Then the echo of someone being hit with a blunt weapon. Screams of terror next. She chuckles as if the memory tickles her fancy. In a way it does. She remembers it all and it just brings up one small regret. ]
I really wish I just killed them all back then. I still think about it you know? How lightly I would snap their necks, how gently I would break their fingers, how much would they bleed? It didn't hurt when I broke my neck, but looking at them writhe in pain, I could almost start to get the idea.
So you see Father, I am one whole being. This is what I am. Oh, I can be calm I can be sweet, but tempt me with violence and I'll bring it forth tenfold. The Fortune Teller wasn't lying you know.
[ Excess, imbalance, a tendency to extremes. ]
These mirrors are quite a bother, aren't they? You're fortunate that you are not the one to stir my ire.
... Oh, but dear Father Abel... I don't see your reflection anymore.
his jaw tightens, further. the worry is coiled tightly now; his fingers twitch at his sides before he forces himself to try and relax. (...in the end, she's been hiding something like this all along.) in the face of this rather unpleasant situation, there's no room for a misstep. not when he doesn't know how in the world to draw her back from where she's gone.
whether she's lost herself to what's written all over her skin, or what's written all over her skin has swallowed her up like a little bug - it doesn't matter. ]
...
[ he isn't averting his gaze, pays no attention to the mirrors as the voices - and cries, and screams, and disturbingly vivid sounds - die down in the background. his eyes follow her and her movements; he is patiently waiting. he means her no harm - and she is trapped in this mess too, isn't she? as long as they're together, then... something has got to give. a way will open up, or they'll be forced to make one. won't they.
[ She takes a look behind her, the red in her eyes glittering under the dim lights. ]
Did I tell you back there? I don't like liars and people who don't give me straightforward answers.
[ Damn. ]
I didn't kill anyone in the end. I'm a failure through and through. Oh, but I'm sure there will be a next time! I'll have good reason to break others, I'll find someone or something that will bleed for me.
[ Her figure sighs dreamily and spins around to face the priest. ]
What will this place show me about you? You don't give me answers, you're more than willing to tell me lies if it'll protect my pretty little soul.
[ That's the other thing about this form; it is much crueler, much more willing to cut to the heart of the matter much like South Sister overall. ]
I've bled in front of you and you have the gall to try and hide from me? What a cruel man of faith without faith you are.
[ ...is it a mercy? knowing she hadn't taken any lives that horrible night. does she remember it all like a bad dream? Abel lifts his fingers to his face to gently pull the old lenses away, pinching at the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a physical ache. Monts, is...
...
her words aren't half as cutting as the fact he doesn't believe the woman he knows would ever be capable of saying them. whether its the influence of this thing, or something feeding on dark, buried parts of her nature - it doesn't matter. Abel lets it slide like water off a duck's back, and his composure is much steadier as he replaces the old-fashioned frames.
--but the soft sound of chime-like bells, the clink of jewelry, quiet sway of fabric behind him steals it in short order. the rapid recoiling of muscles, stiffening of his shoulders is already threatening to undo his good work. though he is clearly working to avoid looking at or acknowledging what is slowly approaching the glass from the reflection of the mirror, the blood is draining from his face regardless.
the redhaired woman in sari - with a very familiar rosary, though unweathered by the passage of centuries - presses her henna-painted hand to the glass. though the priest doesn't look at her, her face expresses nothing but fondness, and her golden eyes carry all the warmth in the world in them. ]
Will you not look at me, Abel? Come now, tell me you're not still a child after all this time.
[ he lowers his head, and his hand has clenched so tightly at his side it seems the bones will break. ]
We need to go, Miss Monts.
[ ...his voice is strained, and though it still holds that gentle edge, it is far more commanding in tone. if she's in there -- if she can hear him, if this 'Monts' deigns to listen... they need to escape.
he will not humor ghosts. he will see her again, when he's earned it. ]
[ Now what do we have here? The chiming sound catches her interest, the priest slowly, but surely losing his composure intrigues her; there is no way she can ignore this. Monts glides up to the woman in the mirror, so grand in her appearance but serene in her beauty, whose eyes look at Abel with warmth only a beloved could receive.]
... We will go.
[ She moves back to Abel, close enough so her dark-tinged fingers gently brush against his cheek (there is an unsettling vibration from the mark as it swirls around her body continuously). ]
But she will follow. She's always been following you, hasn't she?
[ Her voice is disconcertingly gentle as if the new understanding has on some level reached that part of her that he's more familiar with. ]
What follows her I wonder...?
[ Her hand moves down to brush against his clenched fist. ]
C'mon.
[ and just for that second she almost sounds normal. ]
[ ...somehow, that newly found patient gentility is far more unsettling and painful than the delirium this woman has exuded since the mark consumed her skin.
he finds his head lifting, just enough that he might glance into her face as her fingers brush oh so gently against his cheek - wary, but... tentative and uncertain. is she...? the sound of her voice this way - almost right, almost Monts again - has a different sort of pang tugging through his chest.
...please let her come back from this.
his hand is slowly unclenching where her hand descends to graze over his knuckles, instead. even if heβs doing his absolute best to keep his attention focused on βMontsββ new face, the pulse of red eyes only serves to remind him there is no time to lose his head in the very same ghosts he had tried to coax her to ignore. he has to get her to snap out of this, somehow. he has to escape.
...a stiff, but grudgingly acquiescent nod of his head. blue eyes are far older as they fix on her in stubborn refusal to see anything else.
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no subject
Did that girlβ what she said...
[ ... ]
Did that mean something to you?
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... 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. ]
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[ 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...?
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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. ]
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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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Father Abel, don't you understand? I am not two parts, but one whole! I am what lingers in the mind, beneath the skin. I sleep, but I see everything through my eyes.
[ She gives a little spin and it would be almost seen as childish if it weren't for her otherworldly beauty as dark petals float across her face and hands. ]
Oh, this place, this foggy town, doesn't it makes you laugh? It pokes and jabs, it cuts, trying to see what's beneath. Well, I've answered its call and what for? You heard the voice, saw that sack of flesh. This... [ She puts a hand on her chest to gesture at herself. ]
So fragile, so frail, but I can fix myself over and over and not feel a thing. But you see...
[ Her hand gestures are grand as she continues her unhinged rambling. ]
If you handle me too roughly, I cannot move. And when that happens, well, it's only fair if I come out and play rough. For just a little while. Did you know what they did to me next before I decided to play with them?
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is she lost in there? or is it like sleeping? he desperately wishes he knew, now - but there's nothing he can do but wait it out and pray. Monts was strong. she would come back; he refused to accept any other alternative.
playing games with monsters beyond human understanding is not as outrageous as it ought to be. he finds the hair on the back of his neck bristling, and there's an uncomfortable tension, a rigidity in his posture as he watches her regardless. ]
...People can be cruel. I can only imagine it was something you didn't deserve, and... I'm sorry for that.
[ ... ]
But you don't need to do this. [ show, or tell him any more. stay here anymore. ] Please go back to resting for a while; I'm sure that woman is waiting eagerly to wake up again.
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[ She laughs at his pleading. Voices of the perpetrators start echoing through the halls again and she looks past him, her gaze distant. ]
I can move on, but I'll never really forget you know? This world of mirrors just brings out the sweet taste of anger, always at the tip of my tongue.
[ The flower starts walking past him arms spread wide as the voices replay that fateful night. ]
M-MONTS?! Y-You're still alive? What the FUCK you're supposed to beβ...!!
[ The sound of a gunshot. Then the echo of someone being hit with a blunt weapon. Screams of terror next. She chuckles as if the memory tickles her fancy. In a way it does. She remembers it all and it just brings up one small regret. ]
I really wish I just killed them all back then. I still think about it you know? How lightly I would snap their necks, how gently I would break their fingers, how much would they bleed? It didn't hurt when I broke my neck, but looking at them writhe in pain, I could almost start to get the idea.
So you see Father, I am one whole being. This is what I am. Oh, I can be calm I can be sweet, but tempt me with violence and I'll bring it forth tenfold. The Fortune Teller wasn't lying you know.
[ Excess, imbalance, a tendency to extremes. ]
These mirrors are quite a bother, aren't they? You're fortunate that you are not the one to stir my ire.
... Oh, but dear Father Abel... I don't see your reflection anymore.
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his jaw tightens, further. the worry is coiled tightly now; his fingers twitch at his sides before he forces himself to try and relax. (...in the end, she's been hiding something like this all along.) in the face of this rather unpleasant situation, there's no room for a misstep. not when he doesn't know how in the world to draw her back from where she's gone.
whether she's lost herself to what's written all over her skin, or what's written all over her skin has swallowed her up like a little bug - it doesn't matter. ]
...
[ he isn't averting his gaze, pays no attention to the mirrors as the voices - and cries, and screams, and disturbingly vivid sounds - die down in the background. his eyes follow her and her movements; he is patiently waiting. he means her no harm - and she is trapped in this mess too, isn't she? as long as they're together, then... something has got to give. a way will open up, or they'll be forced to make one. won't they.
...he thinks he'd prefer the clowns, now. ]
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Did I tell you back there? I don't like liars and people who don't give me straightforward answers.
[ Damn. ]
I didn't kill anyone in the end. I'm a failure through and through. Oh, but I'm sure there will be a next time! I'll have good reason to break others, I'll find someone or something that will bleed for me.
[ Her figure sighs dreamily and spins around to face the priest. ]
What will this place show me about you? You don't give me answers, you're more than willing to tell me lies if it'll protect my pretty little soul.
[ That's the other thing about this form; it is much crueler, much more willing to cut to the heart of the matter much like South Sister overall. ]
I've bled in front of you and you have the gall to try and hide from me? What a cruel man of faith without faith you are.
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...
her words aren't half as cutting as the fact he doesn't believe the woman he knows would ever be capable of saying them. whether its the influence of this thing, or something feeding on dark, buried parts of her nature - it doesn't matter. Abel lets it slide like water off a duck's back, and his composure is much steadier as he replaces the old-fashioned frames.
--but the soft sound of chime-like bells, the clink of jewelry, quiet sway of fabric behind him steals it in short order. the rapid recoiling of muscles, stiffening of his shoulders is already threatening to undo his good work. though he is clearly working to avoid looking at or acknowledging what is slowly approaching the glass from the reflection of the mirror, the blood is draining from his face regardless.
the redhaired woman in sari - with a very familiar rosary, though unweathered by the passage of centuries - presses her henna-painted hand to the glass. though the priest doesn't look at her, her face expresses nothing but fondness, and her golden eyes carry all the warmth in the world in them. ]
Will you not look at me, Abel? Come now, tell me you're not still a child after all this time.
[ he lowers his head, and his hand has clenched so tightly at his side it seems the bones will break. ]
We need to go, Miss Monts.
[ ...his voice is strained, and though it still holds that gentle edge, it is far more commanding in tone. if she's in there -- if she can hear him, if this 'Monts' deigns to listen... they need to escape.
he will not humor ghosts. he will see her again, when he's earned it. ]
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... We will go.
[ She moves back to Abel, close enough so her dark-tinged fingers gently brush against his cheek (there is an unsettling vibration from the mark as it swirls around her body continuously). ]
But she will follow. She's always been following you, hasn't she?
[ Her voice is disconcertingly gentle as if the new understanding has on some level reached that part of her that he's more familiar with. ]
What follows her I wonder...?
[ Her hand moves down to brush against his clenched fist. ]
C'mon.
[ and just for that second she almost sounds normal. ]
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he finds his head lifting, just enough that he might glance into her face as her fingers brush oh so gently against his cheek - wary, but... tentative and uncertain. is she...? the sound of her voice this way - almost right, almost Monts again - has a different sort of pang tugging through his chest.
...please let her come back from this.
his hand is slowly unclenching where her hand descends to graze over his knuckles, instead. even if heβs doing his absolute best to keep his attention focused on βMontsββ new face, the pulse of red eyes only serves to remind him there is no time to lose his head in the very same ghosts he had tried to coax her to ignore. he has to get her to snap out of this, somehow. he has to escape.
...a stiff, but grudgingly acquiescent nod of his head. blue eyes are far older as they fix on her in stubborn refusal to see anything else.
letβs go. ]
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