[she's noticed that a few times, actually - the way he taps a 1, 2, 3, 4 rhythm when he's stressed. instinctively she taps it with him - against the side of her leg, in time.
he just wouldn't die, she thinks.
the anger makes her startle, a little. it isn't his fault, but she immediately brings her hand up to the red ropes, holding one tightly. nothing on her face changes, but she very consciously goes void with her own emotions again.
don't think too hard.]
They never do, when they're supposed to. [she says, quietly.] What then?
[ shenhe touching her ropes helps, because it keeps fei du just as focused. he's so, so controlled. he's always been controlled, to the point that it's unhealthy, and this is no exception. that anger he feels dissipates like it shatters, melting off into nothing as he pushes the thought away, and keeps his gaze on her hands, instead, watching her tap.
(but it's always like that, isn't it? the abuser never seems to die? never seems to face consequences, because no one looks close enough?)
he takes a breath. ]
... The mother burst through the door. Monika tried to get her to attack her husband, pointing out what he did - he was the one who killed the child - but it was no good. She started to attack us, too, while the husband was trying to attack the people in the backseat. Gerard leapt off the top of the car and engaged with her, but she had a knife, and she threw him off, so I -
[ another violent hit of emotion - guilt, again, nausea, sickness. he lifts his hand, now, and reaches up to cover his mouth, and keeps it there. ]
[ she's... gotten better at this. a little. not great, she's still not really all that sure how to handle people who are in pain like this, but unfortunately with the way this place works, she's gotten some practice.
so when he stops and covers his mouth, she pauses. takes the bright and painful emotions that she's feeling from him (too much, they feel like too much) and tries to swallow them down, breathing in deep, and exhaling out slow. she gives him calm, and relaxed, she gives him meditation.
this is how it used to be for her. she knows. this is what the ropes are for. (we lost everything that made us special, big girl - it's what the ropes are for.) ]
[ the meditation, the calm and relaxed, helps. the guilt emotion is so painful that it feels like it's going to swallow him whole, and he's holding onto the edge of a cliff trying to fight it back. isn't that always what it's about? push it back. push it back.
he inhales. exhales. you are past it. has he ever been past it? has he, for a single second, ever been past this? no. he never lets himself. not when the house he visited today was like a mausoleum the same way his is. not the way he finds his calm in a 1-2-3-4 beat of a slow, hopeful song, like he can relive it. like he can remind himself. you couldn't save her.
it's years of suppression that helps. slowly, he manages to seal it back again, that guilty, horrible, miserable feeling that threatens to send him spiraling back into the past, and shakes his head, slowly.
all of the hurt, swallowed up like it's nothing. it is nothing. he's fine. he continues, clinical. ]
... She died. The father continued attacking us. I rammed him one more time, and then when Gerard got in the car fully, we took off, out of the house. I broke the car through the garage door, and directly outside of it was a lake. From there, we had to break free of the car and swim out. The water changed from lake water to the consistency of egg yolk. As we were trying to swim out, something grabbed onto... all of us, I think. I don't remember. It had me by the throat.
[ double choking!! ]
But, we were all able to swim out to the shore, and when we did, we were far from the original. house. The mother and the child were both gone. [ to the bottom of the lake. ] And the father was still alive, staring at us from the distance. We dragged ourselves up a pathway that led to a small house.
[silence, from shenhe, who is just deliberately and carefully blank. a little bit of her own guilt curls up in a wisp and then settles. this is hilariously on brand - she doesn't know how to help, and she when she tries, she makes it worse. she doesn't feel bad about it. she just accepts that, as he boxes up all his emotions and seals them away.
the only thing she can offer is the calm, so she gives it as much as she can, watching him with aurora eyes that are just a little darker in color than they were before.
this time she doesn't say anything, she just nods. keep going, she's listening.]
it's fine, though - this is normal for fei du. there is no making it better, ultimately, because he just won't let himself. he won't even admit anything's wrong. he shakes his head as she nods, though, dropping his hands into his lap. the emotions are still just an empty void. ]
... That was it, more or less. I had found the key to the house earlier; we went inside. It turned into an egg. I passed out after that.
[the more i play shenhe the more i'm like she's a flurry character in disguise
she's still quiet, and then she carefully stands up. she scoots over to him, and sits down next to him. shoulder to shoulder. she rests her hand on his arm, careful and telegraphed, and taps one, two, three, four.]
[ he doesn't push her away or ask her to stop - just holds very still. shenhe will find he's very tense, like he's holding himself together.
the tapping surprises him a bit, like he didn't even realize he was doing it too. his own hand stops, and he turns to look at her, expression a little surprised momentarily as his emotions swirl somewhere in that deep emptiness into a mix of things. a little confusion, a little recognition, something quietly sad. he takes a deep breath. ]
... Sure. [ mm. ] You would have to speak to the others if you wanted any other details - we weren't together the entire time.
[ that's not the point, and he knows it, but still. ]
[this is such a butthole thing to say but she's not really into lying, so. her loyalties are probably pretty clear in general. she settles where she is, not moving her hand. if he asked her to stop she would, but this makes her feel a little better about him being safe.]
[ because when that woman started choking him, fei du could have died, because he was so far out of his body that he was just letting it happen. the traumatic flashback had been too much - old memories that were hidden and buried that he dug out with a rusty knife now present themselves to the front of his psyche.
he doesn't let himself linger on it in the moment, though, and jokes, quietly: ] Even if he left me to lift a grandfather clock by myself.
[ he's too clever to just hulk it out. who is he, luo wenzhou? her little heh gets him to smile a bit, too, more naturally. ]
There was a crushed egg, inside. [ but, that natural smile - it starts to fade, there. ]
I suppose there was one other thing. [ and after a moment, he feels around in his pockets, and pulls out a small handful of what appears to be egg shells. or - at least, the pieces of one. one that must have been shattered almost beyond recognition, because those pieces go back into his pocket.
the other one, though, just has one crack in it. broken, but not destroyed, and it's painted! it's painted with a little face. the crack goes through it, but it doesn't ruin the effect - the cutely painted face looks a lot like this guy. fei du's voidlike emotions change a little, when he does - they soften, around the edges, almost automatically. ] We ended up in a field on our way to the house full of eggs. Some of them were broken, and some weren't. I picked this one up because I recognized it.
but, he turns the egg a little bit, looking at the painted surface; the bloom of affection in his emotions, though muted, is present, underlaced with something quietly sad. ] My ge. Luo Wenzhou's police partner, Tao Ran. After my mother passed away, he looked after me when my father wasn't around.
Will he be alright? [or was it one of those things where he doesn't know and now he's. here, with no way of knowing. jesus, imagine people knew they were dead.]
[which is... true, she doesn't think she's ever lost anybody that she cared about to that extent. smashcut to friday where i hope i don't eat my words.]
If he was alright and stubborn enough to want to work, I think it's likely he has enough spirit to do anything. [...] How did he get injured in the first place?
the corner of his mouth lifts, but it's a bitter smile. there's no emotions again - whatever was left swirls together into something sardonic and - and angry, though it's very, very muted. ]
Hm. [she looks at him for a second.] I'm guessing this is going to be one of those situations where you warn me not to ask you further questions by saying my name sternly.
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he just wouldn't die, she thinks.
the anger makes her startle, a little. it isn't his fault, but she immediately brings her hand up to the red ropes, holding one tightly. nothing on her face changes, but she very consciously goes void with her own emotions again.
don't think too hard.]
They never do, when they're supposed to. [she says, quietly.] What then?
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(but it's always like that, isn't it? the abuser never seems to die? never seems to face consequences, because no one looks close enough?)
he takes a breath. ]
... The mother burst through the door. Monika tried to get her to attack her husband, pointing out what he did - he was the one who killed the child - but it was no good. She started to attack us, too, while the husband was trying to attack the people in the backseat. Gerard leapt off the top of the car and engaged with her, but she had a knife, and she threw him off, so I -
[ another violent hit of emotion - guilt, again, nausea, sickness. he lifts his hand, now, and reaches up to cover his mouth, and keeps it there. ]
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so when he stops and covers his mouth, she pauses. takes the bright and painful emotions that she's feeling from him (too much, they feel like too much) and tries to swallow them down, breathing in deep, and exhaling out slow. she gives him calm, and relaxed, she gives him meditation.
this is how it used to be for her. she knows. this is what the ropes are for. (we lost everything that made us special, big girl - it's what the ropes are for.) ]
You are past it, now.
[she says, firmly.]
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he inhales. exhales. you are past it. has he ever been past it? has he, for a single second, ever been past this? no. he never lets himself. not when the house he visited today was like a mausoleum the same way his is. not the way he finds his calm in a 1-2-3-4 beat of a slow, hopeful song, like he can relive it. like he can remind himself. you couldn't save her.
it's years of suppression that helps. slowly, he manages to seal it back again, that guilty, horrible, miserable feeling that threatens to send him spiraling back into the past, and shakes his head, slowly.
all of the hurt, swallowed up like it's nothing. it is nothing. he's fine. he continues, clinical. ]
... She died. The father continued attacking us. I rammed him one more time, and then when Gerard got in the car fully, we took off, out of the house. I broke the car through the garage door, and directly outside of it was a lake. From there, we had to break free of the car and swim out. The water changed from lake water to the consistency of egg yolk. As we were trying to swim out, something grabbed onto... all of us, I think. I don't remember. It had me by the throat.
[ double choking!! ]
But, we were all able to swim out to the shore, and when we did, we were far from the original. house. The mother and the child were both gone. [ to the bottom of the lake. ] And the father was still alive, staring at us from the distance. We dragged ourselves up a pathway that led to a small house.
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the only thing she can offer is the calm, so she gives it as much as she can, watching him with aurora eyes that are just a little darker in color than they were before.
this time she doesn't say anything, she just nods. keep going, she's listening.]
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it's fine, though - this is normal for fei du. there is no making it better, ultimately, because he just won't let himself. he won't even admit anything's wrong. he shakes his head as she nods, though, dropping his hands into his lap. the emotions are still just an empty void. ]
... That was it, more or less. I had found the key to the house earlier; we went inside. It turned into an egg. I passed out after that.
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she's still quiet, and then she carefully stands up. she scoots over to him, and sits down next to him. shoulder to shoulder. she rests her hand on his arm, careful and telegraphed, and taps one, two, three, four.]
Thank you for telling me.
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the tapping surprises him a bit, like he didn't even realize he was doing it too. his own hand stops, and he turns to look at her, expression a little surprised momentarily as his emotions swirl somewhere in that deep emptiness into a mix of things. a little confusion, a little recognition, something quietly sad. he takes a deep breath. ]
... Sure. [ mm. ] You would have to speak to the others if you wanted any other details - we weren't together the entire time.
[ that's not the point, and he knows it, but still. ]
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[this is such a butthole thing to say but she's not really into lying, so. her loyalties are probably pretty clear in general. she settles where she is, not moving her hand. if he asked her to stop she would, but this makes her feel a little better about him being safe.]
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he laughs a little. ]
I was very, very lucky Gerard was there.
[ because when that woman started choking him, fei du could have died, because he was so far out of his body that he was just letting it happen. the traumatic flashback had been too much - old memories that were hidden and buried that he dug out with a rusty knife now present themselves to the front of his psyche.
he doesn't let himself linger on it in the moment, though, and jokes, quietly: ] Even if he left me to lift a grandfather clock by myself.
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He is brave sometimes. [a pause.] You lifted a grandfather clock by yourself?
[jesus just dunk on both of them at the same time shenhe chill out]
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[ he isn't even going to fight that ]
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[ he's too clever to just hulk it out. who is he, luo wenzhou? her little heh gets him to smile a bit, too, more naturally. ]
There was a crushed egg, inside. [ but, that natural smile - it starts to fade, there. ]
I suppose there was one other thing. [ and after a moment, he feels around in his pockets, and pulls out a small handful of what appears to be egg shells. or - at least, the pieces of one. one that must have been shattered almost beyond recognition, because those pieces go back into his pocket.
the other one, though, just has one crack in it. broken, but not destroyed, and it's painted! it's painted with a little face. the crack goes through it, but it doesn't ruin the effect - the cutely painted face looks a lot like this guy. fei du's voidlike emotions change a little, when he does - they soften, around the edges, almost automatically. ] We ended up in a field on our way to the house full of eggs. Some of them were broken, and some weren't. I picked this one up because I recognized it.
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shenhe tilts her head to look at the one with the face on it, curious.]
Who is it?
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but, he turns the egg a little bit, looking at the painted surface; the bloom of affection in his emotions, though muted, is present, underlaced with something quietly sad. ] My ge. Luo Wenzhou's police partner, Tao Ran. After my mother passed away, he looked after me when my father wasn't around.
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That was kind of him. [silence, as she sort of enjoys that bloom of affection. even if it is sad, it's nice to feel.]
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[ his taotao. it's part of what makes the cracked egg so sad - he runs his thumb over the top of it, gently. ]
He was just hurt fairly badly, and was in the hospital.
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Will he be alright? [or was it one of those things where he doesn't know and now he's. here, with no way of knowing. jesus, imagine people knew they were dead.]
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[ there's a quiet huff of a laugh, and then... he falls silent, staring down at the egg. ]
I thought he died, and it was one of the scariest moments of my life, to be candid.
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[which is... true, she doesn't think she's ever lost anybody that she cared about to that extent. smashcut to friday where i hope i don't eat my words.]
If he was alright and stubborn enough to want to work, I think it's likely he has enough spirit to do anything. [...] How did he get injured in the first place?
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the corner of his mouth lifts, but it's a bitter smile. there's no emotions again - whatever was left swirls together into something sardonic and - and angry, though it's very, very muted. ]
...A car accident.
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Hm. [she looks at him for a second.] I'm guessing this is going to be one of those situations where you warn me not to ask you further questions by saying my name sternly.
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a little warily; ]
...It depends on what you're going to ask.
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I think you've been through enough, today. [so she won't ask. today.]
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