[ There's one second that comes with relief at seeing him there and well ( she frets always, after them both ) the hum that is the symbiote that they're all close and then -
-- shit. ]
Stop - stop, it's nothing, Petre, he didn't do anything to me. Aoba would never hurt me.
[ It's quick, sharp, knew he was volatile, protective ( if not possessive outright of her). So she leans forward and catches his hand on Aoba's arm. Soft, coaxing, and yes - she's shaking, always is when she wakes up, apparently. Too weak to handle this but she swallows and keeps going through it. Because they're her brood after all, the both of them and it seemed her task here most of the time, to keep whatever peace she could. ] It's alright, really, I hurt him. I just thought it was worse than what I did.
[ Her fingers curl light against Petre's hand and into Aoba's sleeve, turns her eyes back to Aoba and does her best to smile: ] I'm sorry, I thought it was something else. I'll try to be careful next time.
[ Aoba feels Petre before he sees him in the doorway, mental focus and eyes cold on him. In that moment, his panic mixes with Angel's and he can't identify which feeling is his own. Even Petre's anger reflects back on him as he tries to tug his arm away, nails digging in over his sleeve making him wince. ]
Hey-! I didn't-
[ He starts arguing back, but Angel makes a better case. Keeps her voice level, calm. He doesn't trust himself to talk Petre down, but knows she can.
Thank goodness she's back. ]
She just touched my hair, it was an accident. I can... feel my hair. It hurts.
[ The last part is mumbled low, awkward. He really doesn't need another reason for Petre to think he's weird right now. He's starting to believe he is, too.
[ The hand relaxes, and whatever weight his thoughts and anger had placed lifts. His frown remains, more skeptical than hostile now. ]
You can feel your hair? What kind of weird bullshit is that.
[ It allows him to focus on Angel, how she's returned to them again. Petre shifts closer to her, looking her up and down, arranging her hair and making sure there really was no harm. ]
[ She settles for him, but her hand is still kept particularly on Aoba - because she has a particular balance she keeps with them both, and to that end, she can't bare to let him go, he's only one she'd let see these parts of her, regardless. At first, it's selfish as the agitation dissipates between them, the sharp snap of tension and crackling that Petre so often was. But another moment of consideration ( whirl, click, of thoughts as she takes a small breath that she holds in the back of her throat ). There's a worry there, how had she been asleep for them both to be like this? Too long, apparently. Too long without her, and Aoba...
... he'd have had to manage Petre, have to handle him. ( not a uncaring thought in her brain, for her, to care is to manage, what she can do, where she wasn't physically strong as others were ). She knows she can stomach him, even in his rages and his vileness. By constrast, Aoba... couldn't. He wasn't used to looking at, she supposed, how he had recalled from her memories of blood soaked sand and screaming, gloried in madness.
Suddenly, it's important for him to stay where maybe until she'd gotten Petre calm, she might send Aoba away for a moment. But: one day, she knows, in the way that she's a transient thing, all sirens are, she knows she won't be. Blinks, slowly, carefully at them both, and sucks in a breath. In the least awful way, if she'd gone to sleep twice, there was every chance she'd do it again.
So she tries not be obvious, making sure that Petre is sure she has her attention, but her fingers slip, and she lowers them to find Aoba's fingers. Not an obvious thing, rather, she curls her fingers around Aoba's pinkie, a childish sort of tug. Please, stay. Don't go away. Suddenly important for him to see it all. Unpleasant, perhaps, as it all is.
After all, they were brood. They were all each other, good and bad, now.
But she turns her face up to Petre to give him the attention she has learned he likes, and smiles soft at him. Turns her head, letting her hair catch against his fingers in a greeting before at last she turns her head back to Aoba. Giving him a look that's exhausted, worn out, but pleased more than anything and so earnestly, that she hadn't hurt him. ]
My abilities. I can't always control them. I hurt people with them, when that happens. I don't want to hurt you. I'll remember about your hair, next time. [ Her fingers give a squeeze. ] But I'm okay really, or - I will be in a second. [ It's given with a nudge into Petre's hand, a brief brush of affection. ]
[ Aoba takes his arm back, rubbing the spot Petre grabbed too hard, scowling. Angel's grip is so much gentler, and he moves closer to her. Partially to make room for Petre to see her too, though he positions Angel strategically between them. She is as much Petre's as he is hers, all of them each other's, all finally back together - what's left of small Adara. Whether she wants it or not, Angel has become balance between their brood, and it's balance Aoba craves against Petre's chaotic mind.
She tugs at his pinky, and his attention is drawn back to her. The scowling stops as he looks down, guilty for ruining their reunion with his stupid hair... ]
I'm sorry I scared you.
[ ...well, he still acknowledges it's not entirely his fault. Casts a nervous glance back to Petre. Sure enough, he thinks he's weird. Again. ]
[ Part of him is ready to snap at Aoba for speaking for him, but. There's nothing wrong with what he said. Petre did miss her, a lot, though at least he had more confidence that she would wake up this time around. He'd just been heartbroken before, almost despairing - who knows what would have happened if people hadn't come to show him how to be stronger than that.
Maybe he could do the same for Aoba. Teach him how to be stronger, instead of just picking on him for being - in his opinion - the weakest link in this brood.
So, without corrections or reprimands at Aoba's statement, Petre continues: ]
It's okay [ a deep, deep breath as the tension disipates out of her in the nervousness of the sharp words. But really, in the end, there aren't words for the relief of waking up again and seeing them both still here. ] I missed you both too.
[ Soft, because right now. She doesn't want to move, go outside, face the outside world that despite her eagerness on her best days, was too much when she wasn't able to get her walls up quick enough.
What she wants, more than anything, is to draw them both down, wrap them both around her in a tangle of limbs, and do nothing but breath, for awhile. Clinging to life that felt slugging in her veins. Because being near them, for all that they were and could be decidedly not, they were the other parts of her now, and she wanted to just hang in that - whole, alive, blood and bone and they have to be better than the long gone chemicals in her bloodstream. ( she will make them be better than that, she will fix herself on them instead ).
But more than anything, she doubts either of them have the patience for it, not for long anyway. Even if she thinks they might if she asked right now. ]
I could definitely eat. [ She stretches her legs out from underneath her, feeling the tingle of unused muscles. Still holding onto them both as she does, trying to get her balance under her. Grimacing for it. She felt... stiff, tired, her clothes probably reeked. ] Oof, feels like I haven't moved for awhile. Was... was I out very long?
[ He can feel himself being drawn closer to her, just as she wants. Shifts his hand in hers so she's holding all of it and not just one finger. He'd like to stay here too, by her side... even as he casts another glance to Petre. Yes, he'd stay by Petre's side too. He can't deny the frequency humming softly in his head hasn't felt this way since he was last connected to the station itself. Something about being all together with the rest of Adara is undeniably right.
But human needs can't be ignored for sustained symbiotic comfort. Petre is right to ask if she's hungry. It's been a while. ]
Uh... a week and a half? [ Time moves differently here than Earth, it's difficult to tell. And he doesn't want her worrying about that right away- she should focus on getting better first. ] There's some leftovers in the fridge, I can go heat them up for you-
[ A beat as he remembers. ]
Actually, the microwave is broken. We got a bunch of new hosts while you were out... one of them busted it. [ A sigh. ] I'll just use the oven.
[ He'll fix the microwave later. For now, he gets up from Angel's bedside, moving heavily. He doesn't want to part, not even for a minute, but again - human needs. She'd be find with Petre. Besides, though he physically heads out her door, his mental connection remains opens to them both. ]
[ All his concentration seems to be on Angel, but at least he's quiet. The frequency Aoba's feeling is practically just in the back of Petre's mind by now, an instinct and not a thought. Were they not brood and he'd have discarded the other boy easily, especially with their duels over Bout It Out - something in him tolerates him more than that, though, and maybe one day it'll progress closer to the constant need he has to have Angel's attention on him. (Run Aoba.)
Then, of course, there's the mention of him using the oven. For food. Mmmm. He'll like that... they're all going to share, right? ]
[ He shoots a look over his shoulder to Petre. There's leftovers he could simply heat up, (what he was planning to do) mostly take-out since hardly anyone in the Nest cooks, though there's some fresh ingredients he could share from too. But he feels the tension between them that hasn't entirely faded away, (never really does) and that's what prompts an idea and his answer-- ]
Vegetables.
[ He then shuts the sliding door quietly behind himself. ]
She shakes her head as he leaves, ducking her head with laughter, and - she doesn't let it linger too long for Petre to get too bothered by it. She straightens up that little, turning the attention back to her as Aoba closes the door behind him. ]
[ Wow!! Aoba and Angel both being rude at him! He feels the need to sulk intensely about it, frowning with offense at Aoba's send-off and then turning with a look of betrayal at the siren by his side. ]
I hope you two didn't squabble that much whilst I was... away.
[ She at least does him the credit of not laughing more at his sulking as she uses him as a balancing point. Rather she just focuses on getting her feet flat on the ground, her hand going to his shoulder to push herself up. Swaying on her feet like a newborn deer. It's an unsteady gesture, has to aim herself even as she feels her whole body protest the movement, breathing in shallow gasps as she holds onto his shoulder in a tight grip.
Carry on, carry on, she just has to keep up the next couple of steps. ]
[ He keeps his eyes down, carrying her off with utter ease. A scrawny kid with superhuman strength hardly needs to make an effort to help Angel walk; he'd pick her up if she asked him to. ]
Not really. He barely even talks to me. I think he's scared or something.
[ She's so envious, utterly, of the strength he has so naturally - when she can barely hold herself up. It causes her fingers to curl up sharp against him, needful little sucked in breath. She knows she weighs not very much - he's younger than her and taller than her and really, couldn't she just be maybe Lilith's height? Directs him to help her to her cupboard, taking a moment to fish out her clothes before he responds. ]
Well, not everyone is as used to the things you do as we are. [ Maybe she's snickering at that too - ] I showed him Pandora, once, before you came. He nearly went white out of shock of seeing something that violent. I think you're probably a bit of a shock too.
[ Skirt - uh, wait a top - she fishes for that too. ]
Yeah, well. He'll have to get used to it eventually, right? He's part of our brood. He's just going to shit himself every day unless he gets over himself.
He will. I think he's already doing better. He comes to talk to me when he's feeling unsure about what he's meant to do, sometimes. I try to tell him that it's going to be okay. [ A hum. ] And that you won't ever hurt him, we're all brood after all.
[ She brings up the necklace as he asks, holding up to him as if to say - right here, see, never far from her. ] Did you want me to wear it?
He should talk to me, too. But, like, he's always shutting me out and stressing out whenever I say something to him. [ The audience wonders why, Petre. ] It's like you said, we're brood, so how the hell are we supposed to do anything if he doesn't even make an effort?
[ And now, an awkward silence in the audience.
This is all said while Angel brings up the necklace, catching his attention in the middle of his little rant. There it is. ]
[ That - isn't an easy answer. Takes a second to forumlate and so she stalls for time as she holds up the necklace, gently placing it around her neck. ]
Can you do it up at the back? Can't see.
[ She rakes her hair up out of the way, head dipped forward as she thinks, letting a silence fall for a moment. That he will do what she asks, she finds these days, is a strange given. A power she's not sure about. She cares for him, and has no interest in abusing that trust, that would never be her goal again. ]
[ His distraction sparks back to the surface when she makes the request. Blinking once, then twice, he shifts himself to collect both ends of the necklace in his hands, clasping it loosely. ]
[ She smooths her fingers over it as she ever does: mapping, tracing, memorizing. ]
Of course, you got it for me.
[ As if it were always as simple as that, but it's easily given, a moment where her head tilts and where he's doing up the clasp, she turns to brush her cheek against his fingers in affection.
Her words prickling in her to put it to him. ] Aoba's... different to us. He's very shut away. Sometimes I don't even think he knows how to talk to himself. [ Ha, ha, you're not funny Angel. ]
But people don't give themselves or trust for nothing. Not that I've ever seen. There has to be a mutual gain, right? Give him that and maybe it'll go differently. Show him, don't just say, that you're there for him. Like I do with you. [ She turns back to him, smiling, a cautious lift of her hand to brush against his hair. ] Do you understand what I'm saying? No one likes being called stupid, or being reminded that they might get eaten, or being dismissed. IF you give him reasons, he has more than enough of his own to try and trust you back.
[ Gentle as Angel and her words are, Petre still feels like he's being chastised, so he sulks accordingly. Eyes down, lips thinly pressed, curling his fingers into his palm. Yes, he's done those things, all because he resented Aoba for being so reticent, which caused a growing feedback or rejection, resentment, rejection. A ping-pong of tension that hadn't culminated in anything just yet. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
circumspector) wrote2016-03-14 03:55 pm
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-- shit. ]
Stop - stop, it's nothing, Petre, he didn't do anything to me. Aoba would never hurt me.
[ It's quick, sharp, knew he was volatile, protective ( if not possessive outright of her). So she leans forward and catches his hand on Aoba's arm. Soft, coaxing, and yes - she's shaking, always is when she wakes up, apparently. Too weak to handle this but she swallows and keeps going through it. Because they're her brood after all, the both of them and it seemed her task here most of the time, to keep whatever peace she could. ] It's alright, really, I hurt him. I just thought it was worse than what I did.
[ Her fingers curl light against Petre's hand and into Aoba's sleeve, turns her eyes back to Aoba and does her best to smile: ] I'm sorry, I thought it was something else. I'll try to be careful next time.
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Hey-! I didn't-
[ He starts arguing back, but Angel makes a better case. Keeps her voice level, calm. He doesn't trust himself to talk Petre down, but knows she can.
Thank goodness she's back. ]
She just touched my hair, it was an accident. I can... feel my hair. It hurts.
[ The last part is mumbled low, awkward. He really doesn't need another reason for Petre to think he's weird right now. He's starting to believe he is, too.
A quick change in subject, to Angel- ]
What did you think it was...?
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You can feel your hair? What kind of weird bullshit is that.
[ It allows him to focus on Angel, how she's returned to them again. Petre shifts closer to her, looking her up and down, arranging her hair and making sure there really was no harm. ]
Who cares. Angel, are you okay?
cw: fucked up relationships probably???
... he'd have had to manage Petre, have to handle him. ( not a uncaring thought in her brain, for her, to care is to manage, what she can do, where she wasn't physically strong as others were ). She knows she can stomach him, even in his rages and his vileness. By constrast, Aoba... couldn't. He wasn't used to looking at, she supposed, how he had recalled from her memories of blood soaked sand and screaming, gloried in madness.
Suddenly, it's important for him to stay where maybe until she'd gotten Petre calm, she might send Aoba away for a moment. But: one day, she knows, in the way that she's a transient thing, all sirens are, she knows she won't be. Blinks, slowly, carefully at them both, and sucks in a breath. In the least awful way, if she'd gone to sleep twice, there was every chance she'd do it again.
So she tries not be obvious, making sure that Petre is sure she has her attention, but her fingers slip, and she lowers them to find Aoba's fingers. Not an obvious thing, rather, she curls her fingers around Aoba's pinkie, a childish sort of tug. Please, stay. Don't go away. Suddenly important for him to see it all. Unpleasant, perhaps, as it all is.
After all, they were brood. They were all each other, good and bad, now.
But she turns her face up to Petre to give him the attention she has learned he likes, and smiles soft at him. Turns her head, letting her hair catch against his fingers in a greeting before at last she turns her head back to Aoba. Giving him a look that's exhausted, worn out, but pleased more than anything and so earnestly, that she hadn't hurt him. ]
My abilities. I can't always control them. I hurt people with them, when that happens. I don't want to hurt you. I'll remember about your hair, next time. [ Her fingers give a squeeze. ] But I'm okay really, or - I will be in a second. [ It's given with a nudge into Petre's hand, a brief brush of affection. ]
no subject
She tugs at his pinky, and his attention is drawn back to her. The scowling stops as he looks down, guilty for ruining their reunion with his stupid hair... ]
I'm sorry I scared you.
[ ...well, he still acknowledges it's not entirely his fault. Casts a nervous glance back to Petre. Sure enough, he thinks he's weird. Again. ]
We... really missed you, Angel.
[ An understatement. ]
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Maybe he could do the same for Aoba. Teach him how to be stronger, instead of just picking on him for being - in his opinion - the weakest link in this brood.
So, without corrections or reprimands at Aoba's statement, Petre continues: ]
... What do you wanna do? Are you hungry?
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[ Soft, because right now. She doesn't want to move, go outside, face the outside world that despite her eagerness on her best days, was too much when she wasn't able to get her walls up quick enough.
What she wants, more than anything, is to draw them both down, wrap them both around her in a tangle of limbs, and do nothing but breath, for awhile. Clinging to life that felt slugging in her veins. Because being near them, for all that they were and could be decidedly not, they were the other parts of her now, and she wanted to just hang in that - whole, alive, blood and bone and they have to be better than the long gone chemicals in her bloodstream. ( she will make them be better than that, she will fix herself on them instead ).
But more than anything, she doubts either of them have the patience for it, not for long anyway. Even if she thinks they might if she asked right now. ]
I could definitely eat. [ She stretches her legs out from underneath her, feeling the tingle of unused muscles. Still holding onto them both as she does, trying to get her balance under her. Grimacing for it. She felt... stiff, tired, her clothes probably reeked. ] Oof, feels like I haven't moved for awhile. Was... was I out very long?
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But human needs can't be ignored for sustained symbiotic comfort. Petre is right to ask if she's hungry. It's been a while. ]
Uh... a week and a half? [ Time moves differently here than Earth, it's difficult to tell. And he doesn't want her worrying about that right away- she should focus on getting better first. ] There's some leftovers in the fridge, I can go heat them up for you-
[ A beat as he remembers. ]
Actually, the microwave is broken. We got a bunch of new hosts while you were out... one of them busted it. [ A sigh. ] I'll just use the oven.
[ He'll fix the microwave later. For now, he gets up from Angel's bedside, moving heavily. He doesn't want to part, not even for a minute, but again - human needs. She'd be find with Petre. Besides, though he physically heads out her door, his mental connection remains opens to them both. ]
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Then, of course, there's the mention of him using the oven. For food. Mmmm. He'll like that... they're all going to share, right? ]
What're you gonna cook?
no subject
Vegetables.
[ He then shuts the sliding door quietly behind himself. ]
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She shakes her head as he leaves, ducking her head with laughter, and - she doesn't let it linger too long for Petre to get too bothered by it. She straightens up that little, turning the attention back to her as Aoba closes the door behind him. ]
Can you help me up?
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I guess.
[ Sulking has commenced after all. ]
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[ She at least does him the credit of not laughing more at his sulking as she uses him as a balancing point. Rather she just focuses on getting her feet flat on the ground, her hand going to his shoulder to push herself up. Swaying on her feet like a newborn deer. It's an unsteady gesture, has to aim herself even as she feels her whole body protest the movement, breathing in shallow gasps as she holds onto his shoulder in a tight grip.
Carry on, carry on, she just has to keep up the next couple of steps. ]
no subject
Not really. He barely even talks to me. I think he's scared or something.
[ Pussy. ]
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Well, not everyone is as used to the things you do as we are. [ Maybe she's snickering at that too - ] I showed him Pandora, once, before you came. He nearly went white out of shock of seeing something that violent. I think you're probably a bit of a shock too.
[ Skirt - uh, wait a top - she fishes for that too. ]
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[ Helpful as ever, Petre. ]
Hey, where's that present I gave you?
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[ She brings up the necklace as he asks, holding up to him as if to say - right here, see, never far from her. ] Did you want me to wear it?
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[ And now, an awkward silence in the audience.
This is all said while Angel brings up the necklace, catching his attention in the middle of his little rant. There it is. ]
... I dunno. If you want to, I guess.
[ Weh. ]
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Can you do it up at the back? Can't see.
[ She rakes her hair up out of the way, head dipped forward as she thinks, letting a silence fall for a moment. That he will do what she asks, she finds these days, is a strange given. A power she's not sure about. She cares for him, and has no interest in abusing that trust, that would never be her goal again. ]
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I'm glad. That you like it.
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Of course, you got it for me.
[ As if it were always as simple as that, but it's easily given, a moment where her head tilts and where he's doing up the clasp, she turns to brush her cheek against his fingers in affection.
Her words prickling in her to put it to him. ] Aoba's... different to us. He's very shut away. Sometimes I don't even think he knows how to talk to himself. [ Ha, ha, you're not funny Angel. ]
But people don't give themselves or trust for nothing. Not that I've ever seen. There has to be a mutual gain, right? Give him that and maybe it'll go differently. Show him, don't just say, that you're there for him. Like I do with you. [ She turns back to him, smiling, a cautious lift of her hand to brush against his hair. ] Do you understand what I'm saying? No one likes being called stupid, or being reminded that they might get eaten, or being dismissed. IF you give him reasons, he has more than enough of his own to try and trust you back.
no subject
... I guess.
But I never said I'd eat him.