unbr8kable | continuations

[That is immediately echoed, lucky and pleased and slowly more confident, a warm tingle growing in her chest and spreading throughout her body, a pulse of 'okay, awesome']

[ very awesome.

there's that little sparking thread of arousal again, arm and brief, even if the tingling in her ears and fingers and lips is more from their shared feelings and nem's confidence and pleasure than anything else, so she pulls back after a moment to kiss her forehead. ]

Kittyyyy.

[Spoilers, there is 99 percent of the time arousal tinder around to catch even the smallest sparks, and this is no different. She flushes at the kiss and the feelings and the proximity, self-conscious and pleased and soft and fluttery inside]

Marceliiine.

[Imitating her tone, gently teasing and shyly delighted to do so]

...Maybe we should get a hideout, since we seem to keep having talks on the street.

[ *warm not arm, oops. oh well.

that arousal definitely burns just a bit brighter, tempered by her feelings of genuine joy and amusement when she's mimicked, separating from her just slightly but taking her hand, threading their fingers together. ]

S'not my fault the city has so much street in it.

[ and she considers the idea of a hideout, briefly; the immediate jump in arousal and the desire to tease, the warmth, the plain excitement of the idea of building something together with Nem-- but quickly threading through with... guilt, or something close to it, softening those feelings. something maybe a little anxious, but it ultimately all gets pushed away-- no sense in worrying about it when nothing ever happens, after all. ]

... if you really wanna, I'd love to.

[Cocks her head, a little confusion, a little hesitance, but still soft and game for suggestion. She thumbs over the back of Req's hand, gentle]

I mean. If you'd rather something else... Could luxe it up with a car or boat or something. Or some fancy addition to the dorm could work, too.

[ the negative feelings are washed away entirely within a second or two, and she tugs her hand to start walking. ]

Nah. A weird batcave is perfect for me, I think.

[squeezes back warmly, and falls in beside her]

Not sure there's any caves under the city--that we can access, anyways. Unless you're talking about taking over the ski lodge.

Too busy. It was a joke, anyway-- we can just find a rando room in a building somewhere... less windows the better.

[she can think of plenty of things she'd like to keep for her eyes only, but--]

...Could look for a comfy subway tunnel. Then there's a ceiling to hang from, too.

[ very abruptly there's a sharp, striking pang of fear, only reflected in Req's body as a sudden slimming of her wings, the feathers going flat, and her skin suddenly looking a bit greyer than usual.

and she desperately tries to force it down and away, smothering it with a slightly uneasy humor. ]

Maybe not a tunnel. I think a room's pretty good, right?

Uh--don't worry, I was just joking. You'd get all cold, anyways...

[guilt wells up like a leaf-filled gutter, and she sends out feelings of apology and (slightly panicky) reassurance]

So--yeah, wherever you want. So long's it ain't in full view of everybody, I ain't too picky...

[ ... nudges closer to her, accepting that reassuring, but with guilt readily welling up in herself as that fear and anxiety slowly subsides. ]

Maybe somewhere high up, then...

[ a pause. then, a little awkwardly. ]

... sorry. Know you were just trying to joke.

Nah...I shoulda known.

[pauses, nudging back against her, sorry]

...Didn't know it was that bad, though.

[ curls a wing around her, comforted by her warmth and the talking-- even if it's talking about this, the fear is low-lying and more of a discomfort than the shock of terror it was before, with nem to concentrate on.

she seems a bit embarrassed though, awkward, and shrugs as she looks away. ]

... never really stopped dreaming about it. Doesn't come up much, though, so-- it's fine.

[ she seems to believe so, anyway. ]

Ah...

[hunches up a little, awkward even while trying very hard not to seem like it]

Sorry...for then.

[ lightly confused ]

"For then?"

When I didn’t stop you from caving in that tunnel. ...And all the other times I fucked things up too, I guess.

[ more confusion... a little indignation ]

I did that on purpose. I like it when you live instead of dying horribly, you know.

And you've never fucked up things like that, so I dunno where that's comin' from.

Edited 2020-05-15 16:37 (UTC)

Yeah, well, seemed like a raw deal to me.

[Her tone is lighter than her emotions, churning dark and shamed and sad and still a little angry. Eventually they smooth out, slide down into something more grimly affable]

And I can think of a couple times right off the top of my head, so... I--accept responsibility, is all.

There's no responsibility for you to accept. And I can't think of nothing else, so.

[ frowns, at the feelings-- her own are sympathetic, sure, but she doesn't regret the thought of anything she's done in that vein, and there's a very small thread of irritation at the thought that nem doesn't believe her--

but it quickly fades, as she tries to shape her response more into gentle reassurance and love and acceptance. ]

... besides, you did the same thing in the button game, so-- if nothing else, it's even, right?

[at the mention of the button game, that nasty, nauseating ball of hurt and shame (and maybe a little more resentment, more unfocused this time) swells up like a bruise, and she looks away, shoulders tight]

...Yeah, sure. Forget it, never mind.

[ the positive feelings settle down into anxiety and hurt, swallowed by it, more than a little focused on that resentment now that she's felt it.

and there's a rise of anger-- no, deeper, more like loathing-- turned entirely inwards, as she releases nem's hand and shifts her wing, giving her the option to withdraw so she doesn't have to feel crowded. ]

Well, speaking of fucking things up.

[ the regret does burn now, immediate and strong, entangled with that self-loathing and sparking through with fear, trying and failing to gather those feelings up into something tiny and contained and away from hers, because why the fuck would she want to feel that anyway.

(it doesn't work; her feelings at any given time operating at an intensity of a too-full pot starting to bubble over) ]

Sorry. If you really don't want to talk about it I won't.

[Hunches her shoulders further, wrapping her freed arms around her middle; purses her lips, expression sour and insides sick and bitter and sad and resigned. Of course, of course, good job.]

Last I heard you didn't want to hear it, so...

[Sucks in a breath; it's not particularly cleansing at all, but she's able to put a lid on her emotions a little better at least, wrapped up in cold, dull quiet; surely no one wants to hear it after all]

--Anyways. What's done is done. Just--don't worry about it.

[ ... offended, hurt, and confused. ]

Said that about one thing, not about everything. We said we'd talk about everything else later, and that was a month ago, and it's clearly not done cuz you're still just as bitter about it as you were when it happened.

So I don't... know what to do, right now. I brought it up cuz you're here beating yourself up that I chose to die for you, and you did the same thing, so I just thought that-- that it would show we don't gotta regret that we did that stuff for each other. Or blame ourselves for it anymore.

[ the offense drains off, leaving that tired regret and hurt in its place entirely. ]

We just said we would work on this stuff together, Nem. It seemed like... for once, something I said like that kind of... I dunno, meant something to you. I coulda misunderstood, s'not like I'm good at this feelings thing? So... yeah, I'm gonna worry about it.

[ she's hesitant for a long moment, but starts walking, motioning for nem to follow. ]

C'mon, let's... go find somewhere to sit. Maybe we should just start over from the beginning.

Edited 2020-05-16 03:13 (UTC)

[Deflates as well, the tight, nasty feeling leaking out and leaving her achingly hollow. She trails after, head low with shame and arms pressed even more tightly to her body. There's no protest to be made, certainly no denials. Her throat goes thick, and she tries to shove back another wave of sickly guilt and regret--not because she doesn't deserve to feel it, but because it doesn't matter.

[Eventually she forces stiff words from her hoarse throat, sat safely or no, just speaking before she loses her nerve]

--Your wings. And eye and stuff, all the stuff you were ready to lop off the other day. That was me, that was 'cause of what I did. How can you not-- How can you be okay with that?

[Surely she wasn't--who could be?]

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