Her gaze drops a little bit and she's reminded of past conversations, memories that she wants to slam shut right now because maybe a part of her is afraid of what the answer might be.
Her smile is thin and a little pitiful.
Why does she have to be reminded of that time back then, right now?
...
She laughs. ]
I hope I can get you to trust me more. And...
[ There's a hesitant pause, as if uncertain about actually admitting her own issues. ]
...I guess the same goes for me. But can I ask one more thing?
[ She has to know. ]
Why do you think that we're friends?
[ It's a question she's asked before, to someone else, in another time. But it's one that means so much to her. ]
Edited (/edits this to actually make it more painful bc fuck me i guess) 2019-07-09 21:43 (UTC)
Why would you think something like that? I'm the despicable one here. I keep killing people here, and I have no intentions on stopping. I'm putting all of you through hell, I'm the one who doesn't deserve a friendship from the people I'm being so terrible to.
Because I understand the reasons why. If you were truly despicable, you wouldn't see someone like me as a friend. You say that I haven't done anything wrong, but that's not true at all.
You can absolutely do terrible things even if you don't kill others. You can be a bad person even if you haven't killed anyone. Everyone thinks I'm such a good person, but they don't really see who I am at all.
Are any bodies real though? A body is just a body. Cut off an arm, and you keep going. Hell, you can get a new metal one!
A body doesn't make you 'you'. A body is just like, clothes or something. 'You' are your soul. You can remove the body entirely from the equation, but as long as the soul is there, that's you.
Sorry, but his response is actually not a good one when it comes to her. ]
So you're saying that it doesn't matter where the soul is? That the body isn't important? Basically, it's like saying 'it doesn't matter what I look like' because you will still be you.
Maybe you can handle that but I can't. You really don't know anything about me, do you? You saved my life and I'm grateful for that, but I would have accepted dying with open arms because then- finally- I could have gone back home, to my real body, in my own home world.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ She's going to press on to that matter because it's important to her. The reason besides not wanting her to die. ]
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[ no hesitation on that last part ]
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Her gaze drops a little bit and she's reminded of past conversations, memories that she wants to slam shut right now because maybe a part of her is afraid of what the answer might be.
Her smile is thin and a little pitiful.
Why does she have to be reminded of that time back then, right now?
...
She laughs. ]
I hope I can get you to trust me more. And...
[ There's a hesitant pause, as if uncertain about actually admitting her own issues. ]
...I guess the same goes for me. But can I ask one more thing?
[ She has to know. ]
Why do you think that we're friends?
[ It's a question she's asked before, to someone else, in another time. But it's one that means so much to her. ]
1/2
2/2
...just wishful thinking, I suppose. I could be wrong.
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Her expression shifts into one that seems to be clearly out of worry and she wonders if the question she asked was wrong. ]
No, it's not that, I—
[...]
. . . I didn't think I deserved it.
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You haven't done anything wrong here.
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You can absolutely do terrible things even if you don't kill others. You can be a bad person even if you haven't killed anyone. Everyone thinks I'm such a good person, but they don't really see who I am at all.
If anything, I'm the real monster here.
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A terrible person. A person who doesn't deserve anything that she's gotten in the past or the present. Someone that's completely selfish.
Someone who doesn't consider themselves as human--
Because I lost that the moment I appeared in this world.
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[Yeah, he's only asking her that single question.]
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It isn't a secret. ]
Because this body I'm in isn't even mine. It's not even real.
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A body doesn't make you 'you'. A body is just like, clothes or something. 'You' are your soul. You can remove the body entirely from the equation, but as long as the soul is there, that's you.
also cw suicidal ideation because.... ofc
[ Her voice suddenly turns ice cold.
Sorry, but his response is actually not a good one when it comes to her. ]
So you're saying that it doesn't matter where the soul is? That the body isn't important? Basically, it's like saying 'it doesn't matter what I look like' because you will still be you.
Maybe you can handle that but I can't. You really don't know anything about me, do you? You saved my life and I'm grateful for that, but I would have accepted dying with open arms because then- finally- I could have gone back home, to my real body, in my own home world.
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Um. That sounds like some pretty serious body dysmorphia right there.
[He thought she just had self esteem issues, not that it was this bad.]
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That's just what happens when you constantly get your soul shoved around in different bodies for a whole month.
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[He looks away uncomfortably at that.]
You need help. With that.
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[ She admits that pretty easily, although she can't help but sigh, her shoulders sagging. ]
Sorry, I'm just dragging my own problems onto you.
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