hadriel | 007✖; (text)

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007✖; (text)

bianca's gone. in case those who knew her didn't already notice.

it was her idea to set up monthly dance nights at the speakeasy. thought it sounded like a good idea back then. still do.

obviously we have a lot of other shit to worry about, but think we all could use a regular breather, if anyone wants to help out or bitch about how stupid it is.

[And that's all she wrote. Despite how things ended between her and Bianca the last time they met, this wasn't the outcome that Rey had wanted. Still, it could be worse. Not like enough people don't think of this place as a prison.]

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[To be fair, Rey herself is mostly unqualified for many of the things that end up on her lap. She just deals with them as they come, for better or for worse. This time just didn't have a very favorable outcome. It wouldn't be the first time.]

Maybe. But I can't put all the blame on her, either. I'm not exactly the easiest person to deal with.

[As many could attest to. Maketh among them.]

Does there have to be someone to blame?

[Maketh asks it quietly, watching Rey.]

Sometimes--sometimes things just don't work.

[You just have to be a voice of reason, don't you, Maketh?]

If you say so. Things were, um. Nice, for a while. Just... guess it wasn't enough.

[Or she wasn't enough, which is where she's essentially getting at.]

[It's easier when it's someone else. Maketh sighs. She flicks at Rey's hair.]

You are enough, Rey. You may not believe it, but I do.

[Everything on the back of her mind tells her that Maketh is right. That she didn't force Bianca's hand for what happened. Feelings are difficult, in that they don't always align with common sense. Sometimes, she feels like she'd be better off without them, if not for the effect that had on those close to her now.]

Thanks. [Not sarcasm, either. She pauses, taking a last drink from the water bottle, still thinking.] It's hard, talking about this shit with anyone. Haven't told Nick, or... [Shrug.] Don't want to make her seem like she was a bad person. She was just different.

[Rey makes a face as she lowers the bottle.] Can't help but feel like maybe I was a letdown with this whole thing.

I don't think either of you are bad people, [Maketh says simply. That doesn't make it simple, though. Anything like this is bound to get complicated. That's just the way of it] Maybe it wasn't the right time. Maybe she wasn't the right person. Sometimes -- these things just don't work.

[She pauses.]

Or so I'm told.

[It's somewhat a relief to hear Maketh say that, as it isn't her intention to vilify or victimize anyone. They both had their faults, it might be right -- sometimes things just don't work.]

Sometimes, maybe... [Rey's mouth tightens into a thin line as she looks down, staring at the space below her feet rather than anything in particular.]

...Sometimes I wonder if I'm just broken.

[That's a question Maketh has asked herself more than once. She's quiet for a long moment. Just thinking. Remembering.]

I can't answer that, [she admits. Because she ought to be honest, with Rey.] But you're still here. You're alive, in this moment, and you matter to people. Not because of what you can do with your hands, what you could break if you wanted. But because of you.

[Maketh sighs.]

That's something, isn't it?

Because of...

[Something about what Maketh says resonates with Rey. A spark of recent memory; something Nick had said comes to mind.

[He'd said that, whether the phantom visitor of Undine Stransky was real or not, she loved Rey -- and so did he. The fact that he'd even expressed such an emotion towards Rey is terrifying as hell. Love drives you to do stupid things; things you might not normally do. Love makes you hurt people. Love makes you insane. That's all been Rey's own impression of love. No wonder she projected that onto the entity that embodies the very emotion. What had happened recently, between Nick and Undine... it's all the proof she needs that love is more dangerous than anything Rey has ever known. There are some who would tear down empires and kill for the sake of it, be it unconditional or something else entirely. The wanting is maddening.

[It's taken some time for Rey to come to terms with the fact that it's not all perverse. It can lead to good things, too. If only by then she hadn't found herself so undeserving of such a thing. The lowest of the low, just scraping the bottom of the miserable barrel.]

I... I was afraid of this happening. [Her voice shakes; her hand covering her eyes as her vision mists over. It's happening again. She should get angry, not scared. But love is horrifying. She shouldn't want it, have it, and yet somehow she's managed to make herself matter. How sad is that?]

Rey?

[Something is wrong, the way that Rey's shoulders tremble just enough to see. The hands flying to cover her eyes are more telling; Maketh has said the wrong thing, pushed down on a bruise and found a deeper hurt lingering underneath. Something damning and bone deep. She takes a breath and, carefully, puts her hand on Rey's shoulder. Squeezes down. Rey could break her hand if she wanted. It wouldn't even be hard.

She won't, Maketh thinks.]

It's okay. It's okay. I promise.

[Don't cry, don't cry. You don't get to cry. Monsters don't cry.

[Except that she's not that same monster, is she? She... Rey doesn't know what she is. A person? A person who could break Maketh's hand if she wanted?

[She doesn't.]

Su-Sorry, I didn't... Wasn't trying to...

[Her words catch in her throat. Palms clam up. Hand starts to dampen with the tears she quickly tries to stop. Stop it. Stop. You're weak; you're small; you're disgusting, you slimy thing.]

[And it becomes complicated again. Maketh has never once known how to comfort someone. It was never her assigned task, only something she's taken upon herself, clumsily, from time to time. Always in Hadriel. Always with people who matter.

Always afraid that it isn't enough.

She puts her hand on Rey's head, gently, and smooths it through her hair. She does it again.]

It's all right.

[The comforting words coupled with the strokes in her hair also rings familiar of a different time: Undine's death. Did she know she was going to die when she touched that monster's face? Tell it that it's okay, it's fine, it'll be all right, while the life was fleeing from the fingers tightening around her skinny neck? It would have been like her, either way.

[Her shoulders shake as she fights back the choking sobs, trapped in her throat. This isn't how it's supposed to go-- This isn't how she's supposed to be. And yet she feels like a speck of sand at the bottom of an ocean floor, the weight of everything pushing her down.]

It's not... [She swallows, her words still wavering as they carry on the sharp breath she draws inward.] It's not all right. I-I'm not even supposed to be alive, let alone lo... loved.

[But Nick said it. Undine said it. Bianca might as well have said it, and it wasn't enough.]

We were supposed to be a lot of things, you and I.

[Maketh says it as gently as she can, trying not to let herself get drawn down into the spiral of Rey's emotions. It wouldn't help and so she holds. She runs her hand through Rey's hair and tries to keep her voice as even as possible.]

But you are loved.

[The air she draws in with a single breath burns like molten ash, filling her lungs. It could very well be. Her insides boiling... on fire...

[She leans forward, not pulling away from Maketh but drawing further into herself by lowering her forehead to her knees. Rey curls up, hugging her legs and feet on the floor as she sits there on the couch, like a gasping, feverish cocoon.

[It takes her a moment to compose herself. She speaks, her voice muffled through the fabric of her pants:]

That's why. Love scares me. You can't just... turn it off. And even if you could, I... I don't want to.

Is that so selfish? All it does is fuel that same force that probably caused this whole fucking mess to start.

[They might not have any confirmation, but the answer is obvious. Love's stupid return celebration was interrupted, so they just had to have something, didn't they?]

[There's a decision then. She doesn't make it lightly.

Slowly, Maketh lays herself down alongside Rey. She puts her hand on Rey's arm and squeezes gently. She's there. She doesn't intend to leave.]

No.

[Perhaps that makes her a hypocrite. Loving Itani only made it hurt more when she died. Loving Henry has never been simple. And yet--]

I think we're better. Because we love. Even--even if it doesn't always work.

[Whatever it is Rey was expecting, she doesn't know. It isn't like she expected Maketh to so coldly leave her here, alone in pain.

[She curls up. Not in recoil against Maketh's touch, but rather be comforted by it. She can deny it, she can fight it, but in the end it doesn't take away the wanting.

[Wanting can drive you mad.]

I'm not always so sure sometimes. But, don't think I want the alternative, either. Don't want to be that person again. Someone cold, detached, doesn't feel anything. Only good for killing.

What good am I for, now?

[Nick might have an answer for that, but it is often hard to swallow like bad medicine.]

[Maketh sighs, squeezing Rey's shoulder briefly.]

What do you want to be good for, Rey?

[Her brows furrow, the muscles in her face tightening.]

Don't know. Someone who is good for people. Someone who I don't hate. [Scoff.] A pipedream, really.

[How does one get past that 'self-loathing' hurdle?]

[Maketh runs a hand through Rey's hair, slowly. She's not good at this part, but it feels important that she try. That she hold very still and speak quietly. That she wait until Rey comes back to herself.] You're not the only one who wants that. You know that, right?

[She does know. She shouldn't, but she does.]

And you, right?

[Just a guess.]

Yes.

[It's said quietly. Maketh sighs. Runs her hand through Rey's hair again.]

I can't always get it right. Neither will you. But it -- it's not wrong to try.

[The tension in her muscles ease a little at the prickly feeling over her scalp as Maketh draws her fingers over her hair. It's a nice sensation. One that she's come to actually... like. It just seems like the sort of thing people are supposed to do.]

...

Understood.

[She slides the back of her hand over her eyes, drying them.]

Sorry. I'm... not okay. Will be. Just not right now. [Doubt that needs to be explained, though.]

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