I'm appreciative and all, but what about all the ppl hanging out here? Our lives are supposed to be finished, at least that's what I've been hearing from the reapers and everybody. We emerged naked from horror movie egg sacks. Can we really just leave?
(a large part of him would rather shun his own pessimism and cling to what noctis is offering. any chance to go home is one he'd readily take even if the road was long and hard.
unfortunately, a dark swell pushes jonas into the backseat of his own mind, committed to preventing that relapse into fantasy.)
Give me a break.
I didn't think so many of you would be holding so tightly to that "if there's a way in, there's a way out" adage. Loosen that grip, hon, bc I'm here to tell you there doesn't have to be. If I'm trapped here, so are you.
[ The kneejerk anger hits him harder than he expected and so suddenly in the middle of a vulnerable pocket of conversation. Jonas is opening up, but what's inside for him to show isn't just a sad teenager adjusting to difficult changes in his home life. There's a well of bitterness that lives in both of them, and now he's getting a very real taste. ]
Our lives are supposed to be finished? Good for whatever is picking out what's "supposed to be". I've got bigger things to answer to back home.
If you wanna lie down and not think about it, do it. When I figure it out you can hitch a ride, but you don't get to tell me to quit just because you can't think of an answer. You wanna see your family, right? Then you owe it to them to not just believe everything they're feeding us here
Oh, yeah, a photographer bodyguard. Sounds like you really had a lot on your plate lmfao.
(jonas' shadow doesn't smile, doesn't laugh, and doesn't make the situation lighthearted by tacking on a joke. there's nothing funny about it. it's scary, but despite that fear, he's never felt so free. no expectations, no apologies, no trying to climb ladders whose rungs have been forcibly snapped by the people who were supposed to strengthen them and support him.
they deserve to be here.)
You just don't get it do you? I've spent the last few days meditating on this one. These ppl aren't being forced to tell us lies, they don't have time to. They're living this shit daily. They built entire homes and businesses that have been here for God knows how long bc they couldn't get back home. And you think you're better than them? Every single one of them?
Nothing's bigger than death, except maybe the death of that ego.
Oh you've been meditating on it huh? Then there's no way I could argue with you because you obviously know everything about how things run here lmao
[ But he does know. He sees it. ]
What the hell is your problem here, seriously? You're this adamant about me giving up? You don't know what you're talking about and you don't know who I am
[ Should he be impressed? As if you seem like some kind of savior, as if you could lead anyone... He can see what you really are. A king of imposters, happier to stick your head in the sand and get righteous instead of putting in the real work. ]
If you wanna say I have an ego because I won't just lie down and die then I have a fucking ego. Say it to my face next time.
Wooow, brownie points for the guy threatening someone for speaking the truth. You can save those up and put em toward your Ascension fund!
You think just bc you offered me a helping hand I'll believe your take over that of the masses who've probably been trapped here for like..... decades?? You're not THAT pretty lmfao. The next time we meet up, I'll give you a much more formal "no" in person.
I'd really, really like to see what you're gonna do about it.
(whether noctis responds to jonas' shadow or not, it makes no difference, because control is relinquished and the host body, too easily taken over by forces outside of its control after countless intrusions, faints in the window of his harbourside home.
it's over an hour later when the next text comes.)
[ The room he's in feels smaller with each line that tightens his chest, anger mixing with something far larger and far more terrifying inside of him that he doesn't want to acknowledge, that he can't acknowledge. Despair. Regret. Guilt. A true, unadulterated, sense of mourning for two lives.
The life of a perfect king who was never born. The life of an average young man who wasn't allowed to exist.
And here's Jonas, directing a spotlight onto both and casting shadows that are too large to be accommodated by a run-down second story hovel smelling of fish guts and mildew. At least here, unlike in his beautiful condo from a previous life lived only weeks prior, he doesn't feel like he's stinking it up worse. ]
Sorry for what? You told the truth, Jonas. Do you know what that's worth?
[ The passage of time isn't registered as he lies against unwashed sheets, content to think of nothing, feel nothing, do nothing. None of it matters, really. And if none of it matters then neither does an hour, neither does asking Jonas if he's okay after such a long time of saying nothing, because they're both dead. His struggles, Jonas's struggles, are over if that's true. All he has to do is lie here and let his shadow speak for him. ]
(new air is still unforgiving when drawn into lungs stretched by entities that never fit quite right inside of him. here, like on edwards island, alex always and never at his side, jonas wakes up alone and concentrates on recovering. his body aches from where his elbow and temple smacked into weathered wood, but he's thankful for that; in a state of delirious confusion, the throb is a reminder that this body, though commandeered often and without his consent, is still his body.
the fog persists through jonas' rereading of texts sent to and from noctis. with the overcast sky darkening outside, casting a grey light over everything not already sunken into shadow, timestamps are the only reliable way left to determine whether his spell lasted an hour or a day.
jonas finds himself in no rush. noctis has removed the need to plead—as he pleaded authorities, pleaded courts, pleaded his mother and father—that it's difficult for him to want to ruin it with anything he has to say. therefore his thumbs are slow to find letters, and his reply is slower still to send.)
[ Just as Jonas rereads his messages, so too does the darkest part of Noctis, scrolling upward with a lazy flick of a finger and then back down to four little words he snorts at. Poor thing. ]
A lifetime of pointless fighting and worrying, for starters. More, depending on how important people around you decide you are.
Think about your dad. You're important to him, and now you're gone. That's your worry and his together, but it doesn't have to be. If he realizes you're dead and so do you, just like you said, you can let it all go. Do whatever you want here.
(while all of what noctis writes to him sounds cathartic, the most appealing aspect is letting go. having the fatalism to let anything and everything happen to him while seeking his own path forward. if he wanted to screw up, he could. if he wanted to leave everything behind, he could.
apathy's barb might've lodged itself deeper into his skin if the mention of his father didn't twist it back out.
it presents itself to jonas as so absurd that his head bows forward between elbows propped up along bent knees, and he sniffs morosely at how pathetic the situation has become. abandoning his father to grief meant abandoning him entirely, leaving him without a care—with a new wife for support, certainly, but that wouldn't be enough. clarissa said it straight: "don't die and everything will be fine." they would separate at the loss of their son and daughter because jonas couldn't save himself or alex from a tragedy he wrought. they would both be alone again, and their worlds would funnel into one thing:
his father loves him despite everything he's put him through; without a body or confirmation of death, it would be a search unending.)
My dad's been through enough. He's a worrier, and I never got to tell him things I should've before I got stuck here. So I gotta get home and so do you. Forget everything else.
You said you'd throw down for me if I get into trouble here. And you said I could hitch a ride when you find the way out. ik I won't be much help bc I'm not bright and I'm not strong, but why don't we work together on it?
You missed a chance to tell him something? That's sad. Must feel like someone's stabbing you in the gut. Like you're all twisted up inside because it's all you keep thinking about. Sure, get home and tell him all about how much you suffered so he can feel comfortable about it. How selfish are you? Lol. More or less selfish than I would be if I went back just to say it all to my old man's grave?
There's no closure for me there. There's barely any for you. New kid, new town.
And he wants me to fight his battles for him? A weak idiot, what a great advertisement. You know what? You're not quite that pretty either.
Taking on a hanger-on like you, should I do that because it's "right" or to make myself feel better? Sounds exhausting lmao.
(jonas has to create an island at the centre of their argument to stow this comment, safe from everything else. noctis lost a parent and he knows intimately how devastating it is. he will not strike at that wound nor any other.
it's far easier to concentrate on how noctis is defining him.)
I'm not touching that with this.
Having me around would probably be exhausting, you're right about that. You didn't wanna show it on the ship over here, but you were sick of me then too. I was scared, I was needy, and I was being a jerk. And that's okay, bc I was sick of you, too. You kept rushing me when I wasn't ready, you even acted all pretentious with an asshole look on your face. But we still got out of there together, didn't we?
Maybe trying to ask you and my dad for help is selfish. Maybe it was learned behaviour, or I was born this way and I'll always need to be dependent on somebody.
You're a bigger dumbass than I am though if you think everything you're telling me is smth new I've never heard before. I get it from ppl like you and I get from myself. So go ahead and talk trash. Put me down, tell me I'm stupid and a waste of potential. You can't even work a fucking oven dude.
[ Four words that could seem sincere in any other context but in this one they're dripping with resentment and anger, a sharp callback to what Jonas had requested – "only if you promise not to apologize". ]
We got out of that ship earlier because of me. You can't tell some great story about our teamwork and how well we worked together while hating being around one another. There's no teamwork there.
I can learn what I need to but you? Even just thinking about dragging you along with me is making me feel sick to my stomach. As if I don't have enough on my plate. Do me a favor, give up, and figure out how to make yourself happy here. I don't need that baggage and I don't fucking deserve it, I'm tired.
(he's always been a burden on the lives of others, and to hear it illustrated so plainly is simultaneously a relief and indescribably painful. there isn't much willpower left in him to deny it again and again and again.
so, jonas copes by shutting down and building a wall to hide the sadness behind. it shows in his next message. there's less feeling in it and more bitter jokes; now all he wants is the last laugh.)
In some bizarre way, I'm comforted by the fact that deep down you're actually a giant asshole, so you've inadvertently helped your disgusting leech friend out again. You're BAD at this LMFAO
Why don't you go take a nap if you're so tired you sad fucking manchild? I'm done.
How perfect is that? Resorting to name-calling all because...... what, because I told the truth? Wow, fucking incredible. You really know how to stand up to the opposition. And you're the one who's gonna keep us going? That was how you advertised yourself, right? Holding the lineeeee
[ When Noctis's eyes open there's a new ache to them. He feels overtaxed, every muscle in his body overworked by an unbelievable anger that's knotted him up into a ball of tension. His teeth are still grit and it's only active effort that has his jaw relaxing, dread rising like bile from his gut as he combats the physical manifestations of feelings he doesn't remember feeling.
His exhale is heavy, but his inhale is caught when he stares down at the face of his phone. Ugly, vicious words stare back at him.
A few from Jonas. Almost all... from him. His mouth runs dry as panic washes over him, a cold sweat setting in almost immediately while his thumb slides absentmindedly up and down the edge of the case. It feels like far longer than the minute or so it takes him to type a shaky, uneasy follow-up. ]
(committing to "i'm done" is difficult after noctis gets his last barb in. name-calling is far easier to handle than whatever this is; his words are being thrown back in his face as though they're nothing more than a joke.
just once, he'd like to ask why this is the result of his efforts to reconnect with people. old "friends" had a lot to say about his year-long disappearance and even more about his resulting disposition, which led to ghosting en masse and being cut out of the lives of those he'd come to trust. they mocked him and his circumstances, and some even tried to make light of it for his "own benefit," but every single reaction made him shrink further and further into himself.
it's happening again even now when they're both dead and lacking support, which is, jonas imagines, why it's just as humiliating.
to collect his thoughts and compartmentalize the day, jonas leaves his phone on the windowsill to light a cigarette outside. after smoking two more end-to-end, he returns, apathetic, to another notification.)
Hey, I knew you'd be back. You forget to add the rest of the Es?
[ No reply comes at first, and it leaves Noctis to assume the worst. Jonas is gone, Jonas has blocked him, Jonas is, for all intents and purposes, done continuing in this conversation. It cuts him off from a chance to explain himself or a chance to apologize, or even a chance to make it clear that he knows all he just said was wrong.
Sure, he might not know him well yet, but his mistrust for Jonas doesn't run half as deep as what he's reading implies... does it? Why the fuck did he say it? ]
Did you lose control earlier?
[ The pointed question replaces softer first attempts, throwaway comments about his typing or tries to ease the very, very thick tension. ]
(the text's contents are unwelcome. even dormant after expending energy to manifest, his shadow forces his thumb to dismiss the messaging app altogether.
it takes effort to reopen it, jonas' jaw locking to place heavy pressure back on molars that taste like ash.)
Yeah, I did. It was bad, and I'm really sorry I fucked up that hard.
So can we blame all this on that and just cool it for a bit?
[ His hand's rubbing at his mouth seemingly without his say-so, anxious in waiting for a reply with locked in body language and a vacant stare down at his phone. For the second time now, someone or something has shoved his consciousness viciously into the back of his mind and puppeteered his body... and just like the first time, he has zero memory of it.
And it happened at the worst fucking moment, and he said the worst things– and some of those things were personal. They were things only Noctis himself would know. ]
No
Yeah, I mean, but can you tell me you're okay first. If you wanna stop talking for now I get it but I need to know that.
(jonas knows his snort is unfair despite noctis being unable to hear it, and the silence after it only makes him feel guiltier.
it struck him as a ridiculous question; how could he be okay? noctis certainly isn't, apparent in the way he seeks his answers. the combination of that, and the oppressive shame that this was all started by him, is what makes jonas respond honestly.)
Am I okay? No, actually, I'm not lol. I lost control of my own body and passed out on the floor, I'm scared out of my mind, and I feel like garbage bc like right after I called you my friend we decided to lay into each other.
Am I used to all of the above? Shockingly yes. And I'll get over it.
I have a splitting headache so I'm gonna go with a "yes, I hit my head," but I'm coherent and spelling things right. ig it was just a love tap from the floor or smth. idk
You just said you didn't "decide" anything and now you're blaming yourself. Which is it?
bc man, I didn't want to sound crazy, but I've honestly had enough of fibbing to make other ppl feel better in scary situations so here goes: I've been feeling this thing in the back of my head since we got to Stygia and it's been saying the worst shit ever.
[ Did he choose to go after Jonas? No, not consciously. Were his fingers still the ones that typed those messages? Undoubtedly. Just like he was the one that freaked him out the day the Soulidarity app went live, that was him. Or some version of him that this place feels like creating to mess with them all, and that's a much more appealing idea that he wants to latch onto. ]
Like it's talking to you or smth? Idk maybe someone or smth is contacting us and taking control when we least expect it. It's just messed up that they know so much about us. That's the piece I don't get.
Look w/e it is maybe if we talk to each other about it we can figure smth out
Well, whatever this thing is it's not me. I'M me. And I'M sick of this shit. That's all I know and it's all I want to know. I want it out of me.
(it's taking hold of him. it's taking him over. it's filling itself into the hollow parts of his body and manoeuvring him around like a doll. it's just like before, only this time there's no pain to tell him when.
jonas sits heavily on the couch and leans forward onto his knees.)
Just like that's not you. It's just not, so let's work off that.
rn though I don't want to talk about it. I want to talk about smth normal for like 5 minutes without being interrupted by smth horrible.
He wants a straight answer out of somebody, no more avoiding, no more bullshit, no more tasteful dancing around a problem or tasteless outright aversion. No glances away in an effort to pretend something painful hasn't just happened, no theatrical performances of normal.
But. But. He feels in the very fiber of his being that persistent desire to be average, to break from the irrationality of a strange life and a stranger vacation from it just to talk to someone who understands. ]
Okay.
We take 5. We were talking about stuff we were into earlier right?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I'm appreciative and all, but what about all the ppl hanging out here? Our lives are supposed to be finished, at least that's what I've been hearing from the reapers and everybody. We emerged naked from horror movie egg sacks. Can we really just leave?
(a large part of him would rather shun his own pessimism and cling to what noctis is offering. any chance to go home is one he'd readily take even if the road was long and hard.
unfortunately, a dark swell pushes jonas into the backseat of his own mind, committed to preventing that relapse into fantasy.)
Give me a break.
I didn't think so many of you would be holding so tightly to that "if there's a way in, there's a way out" adage. Loosen that grip, hon, bc I'm here to tell you there doesn't have to be. If I'm trapped here, so are you.
no subject
Our lives are supposed to be finished? Good for whatever is picking out what's "supposed to be". I've got bigger things to answer to back home.
If you wanna lie down and not think about it, do it. When I figure it out you can hitch a ride, but you don't get to tell me to quit just because you can't think of an answer. You wanna see your family, right? Then you owe it to them to not just believe everything they're feeding us here
no subject
(jonas' shadow doesn't smile, doesn't laugh, and doesn't make the situation lighthearted by tacking on a joke. there's nothing funny about it. it's scary, but despite that fear, he's never felt so free. no expectations, no apologies, no trying to climb ladders whose rungs have been forcibly snapped by the people who were supposed to strengthen them and support him.
they deserve to be here.)
You just don't get it do you? I've spent the last few days meditating on this one. These ppl aren't being forced to tell us lies, they don't have time to. They're living this shit daily. They built entire homes and businesses that have been here for God knows how long bc they couldn't get back home. And you think you're better than them? Every single one of them?
Nothing's bigger than death, except maybe the death of that ego.
no subject
[ But he does know. He sees it. ]
What the hell is your problem here, seriously? You're this adamant about me giving up? You don't know what you're talking about and you don't know who I am
[ Should he be impressed? As if you seem like some kind of savior, as if you could lead anyone... He can see what you really are. A king of imposters, happier to stick your head in the sand and get righteous instead of putting in the real work. ]
If you wanna say I have an ego because I won't just lie down and die then I have a fucking ego. Say it to my face next time.
no subject
You think just bc you offered me a helping hand I'll believe your take over that of the masses who've probably been trapped here for like..... decades?? You're not THAT pretty lmfao. The next time we meet up, I'll give you a much more formal "no" in person.
I'd really, really like to see what you're gonna do about it.
no subject
it's over an hour later when the next text comes.)
I'm sorry
no subject
The life of a perfect king who was never born. The life of an average young man who wasn't allowed to exist.
And here's Jonas, directing a spotlight onto both and casting shadows that are too large to be accommodated by a run-down second story hovel smelling of fish guts and mildew. At least here, unlike in his beautiful condo from a previous life lived only weeks prior, he doesn't feel like he's stinking it up worse. ]
Sorry for what? You told the truth, Jonas. Do you know what that's worth?
[ The passage of time isn't registered as he lies against unwashed sheets, content to think of nothing, feel nothing, do nothing. None of it matters, really. And if none of it matters then neither does an hour, neither does asking Jonas if he's okay after such a long time of saying nothing, because they're both dead. His struggles, Jonas's struggles, are over if that's true. All he has to do is lie here and let his shadow speak for him. ]
no subject
the fog persists through jonas' rereading of texts sent to and from noctis. with the overcast sky darkening outside, casting a grey light over everything not already sunken into shadow, timestamps are the only reliable way left to determine whether his spell lasted an hour or a day.
jonas finds himself in no rush. noctis has removed the need to plead—as he pleaded authorities, pleaded courts, pleaded his mother and father—that it's difficult for him to want to ruin it with anything he has to say. therefore his thumbs are slow to find letters, and his reply is slower still to send.)
What is it worth
no subject
A lifetime of pointless fighting and worrying, for starters. More, depending on how important people around you decide you are.
Think about your dad. You're important to him, and now you're gone. That's your worry and his together, but it doesn't have to be. If he realizes you're dead and so do you, just like you said, you can let it all go. Do whatever you want here.
Be anybody.
no subject
apathy's barb might've lodged itself deeper into his skin if the mention of his father didn't twist it back out.
it presents itself to jonas as so absurd that his head bows forward between elbows propped up along bent knees, and he sniffs morosely at how pathetic the situation has become. abandoning his father to grief meant abandoning him entirely, leaving him without a care—with a new wife for support, certainly, but that wouldn't be enough. clarissa said it straight: "don't die and everything will be fine." they would separate at the loss of their son and daughter because jonas couldn't save himself or alex from a tragedy he wrought. they would both be alone again, and their worlds would funnel into one thing:
his father loves him despite everything he's put him through; without a body or confirmation of death, it would be a search unending.)
My dad's been through enough. He's a worrier, and I never got to tell him things I should've before I got stuck here. So I gotta get home and so do you. Forget everything else.
You said you'd throw down for me if I get into trouble here. And you said I could hitch a ride when you find the way out. ik I won't be much help bc I'm not bright and I'm not strong, but why don't we work together on it?
I can make sure we keep going.
no subject
There's no closure for me there. There's barely any for you. New kid, new town.
And he wants me to fight his battles for him? A weak idiot, what a great advertisement. You know what? You're not quite that pretty either.
Taking on a hanger-on like you, should I do that because it's "right" or to make myself feel better? Sounds exhausting lmao.
no subject
(jonas has to create an island at the centre of their argument to stow this comment, safe from everything else. noctis lost a parent and he knows intimately how devastating it is. he will not strike at that wound nor any other.
it's far easier to concentrate on how noctis is defining him.)
I'm not touching that with this.
Having me around would probably be exhausting, you're right about that. You didn't wanna show it on the ship over here, but you were sick of me then too. I was scared, I was needy, and I was being a jerk. And that's okay, bc I was sick of you, too. You kept rushing me when I wasn't ready, you even acted all pretentious with an asshole look on your face. But we still got out of there together, didn't we?
Maybe trying to ask you and my dad for help is selfish. Maybe it was learned behaviour, or I was born this way and I'll always need to be dependent on somebody.
You're a bigger dumbass than I am though if you think everything you're telling me is smth new I've never heard before. I get it from ppl like you and I get from myself. So go ahead and talk trash. Put me down, tell me I'm stupid and a waste of potential. You can't even work a fucking oven dude.
no subject
[ Four words that could seem sincere in any other context but in this one they're dripping with resentment and anger, a sharp callback to what Jonas had requested – "only if you promise not to apologize". ]
We got out of that ship earlier because of me. You can't tell some great story about our teamwork and how well we worked together while hating being around one another. There's no teamwork there.
I can learn what I need to but you? Even just thinking about dragging you along with me is making me feel sick to my stomach. As if I don't have enough on my plate. Do me a favor, give up, and figure out how to make yourself happy here. I don't need that baggage and I don't fucking deserve it, I'm tired.
no subject
so, jonas copes by shutting down and building a wall to hide the sadness behind. it shows in his next message. there's less feeling in it and more bitter jokes; now all he wants is the last laugh.)
In some bizarre way, I'm comforted by the fact that deep down you're actually a giant asshole, so you've inadvertently helped your disgusting leech friend out again. You're BAD at this LMFAO
Why don't you go take a nap if you're so tired you sad fucking manchild? I'm done.
no subject
[ When Noctis's eyes open there's a new ache to them. He feels overtaxed, every muscle in his body overworked by an unbelievable anger that's knotted him up into a ball of tension. His teeth are still grit and it's only active effort that has his jaw relaxing, dread rising like bile from his gut as he combats the physical manifestations of feelings he doesn't remember feeling.
His exhale is heavy, but his inhale is caught when he stares down at the face of his phone. Ugly, vicious words stare back at him.
A few from Jonas. Almost all... from him. His mouth runs dry as panic washes over him, a cold sweat setting in almost immediately while his thumb slides absentmindedly up and down the edge of the case. It feels like far longer than the minute or so it takes him to type a shaky, uneasy follow-up. ]
Jonas?
no subject
just once, he'd like to ask why this is the result of his efforts to reconnect with people. old "friends" had a lot to say about his year-long disappearance and even more about his resulting disposition, which led to ghosting en masse and being cut out of the lives of those he'd come to trust. they mocked him and his circumstances, and some even tried to make light of it for his "own benefit," but every single reaction made him shrink further and further into himself.
it's happening again even now when they're both dead and lacking support, which is, jonas imagines, why it's just as humiliating.
to collect his thoughts and compartmentalize the day, jonas leaves his phone on the windowsill to light a cigarette outside. after smoking two more end-to-end, he returns, apathetic, to another notification.)
Hey, I knew you'd be back. You forget to add the rest of the Es?
no subject
Sure, he might not know him well yet, but his mistrust for Jonas doesn't run half as deep as what he's reading implies... does it? Why the fuck did he say it? ]
Did you lose control earlier?
[ The pointed question replaces softer first attempts, throwaway comments about his typing or tries to ease the very, very thick tension. ]
no subject
it takes effort to reopen it, jonas' jaw locking to place heavy pressure back on molars that taste like ash.)
Yeah, I did. It was bad, and I'm really sorry I fucked up that hard.
So can we blame all this on that and just cool it for a bit?
no subject
And it happened at the worst fucking moment, and he said the worst things– and some of those things were personal. They were things only Noctis himself would know. ]
No
Yeah, I mean, but can you tell me you're okay first. If you wanna stop talking for now I get it but I need to know that.
no subject
it struck him as a ridiculous question; how could he be okay? noctis certainly isn't, apparent in the way he seeks his answers. the combination of that, and the oppressive shame that this was all started by him, is what makes jonas respond honestly.)
Am I okay? No, actually, I'm not lol. I lost control of my own body and passed out on the floor, I'm scared out of my mind, and I feel like garbage bc like right after I called you my friend we decided to lay into each other.
Am I used to all of the above? Shockingly yes. And I'll get over it.
Are you okay?
no subject
I just wanna make sure you didn't hit your head or anything or
Idk
Stuff that's not "I'll get over it".
[ It's a lot of words to cover his worry for the other young man and the accompany huge wave of guilt. ]
Ngl I don't really feel like talking about me after what I said.
no subject
You just said you didn't "decide" anything and now you're blaming yourself. Which is it?
bc man, I didn't want to sound crazy, but I've honestly had enough of fibbing to make other ppl feel better in scary situations so here goes: I've been feeling this thing in the back of my head since we got to Stygia and it's been saying the worst shit ever.
no subject
[ Did he choose to go after Jonas? No, not consciously. Were his fingers still the ones that typed those messages? Undoubtedly. Just like he was the one that freaked him out the day the Soulidarity app went live, that was him. Or some version of him that this place feels like creating to mess with them all, and that's a much more appealing idea that he wants to latch onto. ]
Like it's talking to you or smth? Idk maybe someone or smth is contacting us and taking control when we least expect it. It's just messed up that they know so much about us. That's the piece I don't get.
Look w/e it is maybe if we talk to each other about it we can figure smth out
no subject
(it's taking hold of him. it's taking him over. it's filling itself into the hollow parts of his body and manoeuvring him around like a doll. it's just like before, only this time there's no pain to tell him when.
jonas sits heavily on the couch and leans forward onto his knees.)
Just like that's not you. It's just not, so let's work off that.
rn though I don't want to talk about it. I want to talk about smth normal for like 5 minutes without being interrupted by smth horrible.
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He wants a straight answer out of somebody, no more avoiding, no more bullshit, no more tasteful dancing around a problem or tasteless outright aversion. No glances away in an effort to pretend something painful hasn't just happened, no theatrical performances of normal.
But. But. He feels in the very fiber of his being that persistent desire to be average, to break from the irrationality of a strange life and a stranger vacation from it just to talk to someone who understands. ]
Okay.
We take 5. We were talking about stuff we were into earlier right?
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