abnormalizes | Seasons: IC Contact/Continuations

Mmm... I don't know. I feel fire is just enough. If someone wishes to speak ill of you, but refuses to take responsibility for his words, then you're well within your right to enact that responsibility upon him however you see fit.

And if he won't fight you, what other option had you but fire? As a Summer, that should be expected, really.

He was also new, so he hadn't learned to expect people to be capable of doing that yet...

...Eh. Fuck him.

There you go. Fuck him, indeed. New or not, he should expect retaliation if he refuses to take responsibility for his own actions.
You just so happened to be someone who wields fire, that's all.

If it were me, he'd have bullets and nightmares to face. If it were Chipp, he'd be faced with lightning and blades.

The method doesn't matter. What matters is if it was deserved.

Fucking asshole who thought he could tell me how to deal with my own world. I'm glad he's gone.

-The worst part is he was an alternate universe version of Shadow, who's one of my best friends here. What the hell happened to this one to make him such a dick.

I'm glad he's gone as well, and I hadn't even met him. As for the hows and whys -
That's the beauty and curse of the multiversal theory. Anything could have happened to make you a wholly different person to who you are now...

... Mostly. You'd likely still be an Indigo core, after all.

I probably wouldn't have the red shadow without the trauma and fear of loss, I figure.

Indeed you wouldn't. It's the ego and the shadow that would make you differ from your multiversal counterparts -
And even then, should another you exist with the same exact colors of the soul, it could easily express differently in her as compared to you.

For example, how you and I have the same color of shadow, yet it's clear we differ greatly in the reason why.

To be honest, this is something I've thought about quite a bit. How different versions of myself may differ, just by having a simple color change within the soul...

-I'd like to meet another Louis sometime. Although I guess it'd be pretty hard explaining our relationship to him...

Mmm... I'd wonder if another Louis would be as pleasant as I am. Likely, if they're going by Louis, they came from the same background as myself -
Thus, they began life as Andy... and died at the hands of Jean.

[...]

You wouldn't want to meet another version of myself that's simply Andy, however. I can almost guarantee that each and everyone would be miserable company.

...Are you saying that dying was good for you?

I am. It was.

In life, I was a miserable little wretch who had no qualms with harming even those that I love if I thought there was a way for us to gain things from it.
I spent the majority of my life battered and bruised, half of my time spent in hospitals - unrelated to the beatings, purely due to illness - and I had that energy pent up inside of me at all times, willing to point and unleash it at others if I felt the whim.

[A pause, thinking on this more...]

... Frankly, I believe that aside from my death, the only other thing that would have had a net positive effect on who I was would be the death of my parents.
Which, as you can guess, wasn't happening any time soon.

Either way, someone had to die. Or I would have remained that way for the rest of my miserable life.

...Okay, so first off, if I meet your parents, I'm killing them now. They have gone far past the punch in the face point.

Secondly, I guess death can get you out of any situation... I wish it hadn't had to come to that for you, but I'm glad they can't hurt you any more.

To be fair to them, the battering and bruising only included my father's hand when they were actually home.
They spent the majority of the year in Japan, only coming home in the winter... and there were a few years in which they didn't give me that, either.

But the tutors they hired... weren't pleasant. The house staff could do nothing for it, either.

[He holds his hands up, now, splaying his fingers out to look at the backs of them.]

I'd spent many days while I was younger with reddened knuckles as said tutors attempted to rid me of the accent I'd picked up from them.
As you can tell, they managed it with flying colors. I speak as though I should be on the evening news, presenting the latest murder charges with such enunciation, even a kindergartner could follow along.

[... And now those hands are balled into tight, white-knuckled fists, bringing them up to his chest as he looks at Evangeline, herself.]

Even in the hospital. Even there. Do you know how maddening it is having a ghoul stand in the corner, listening to you speak to the doctors and explain what's wrong, knowing that they have something behind their back with which to swat your knuckles if you pronounce anything with too long of a drawl?
A drawl that they gave to me?

I hope they all died miserably in a fire.

[Evangeline listens. It takes a moment to process what she's hearing.]

-An accent. They hurt you for an accent?

[There wouldn't be any good reason to hurt a child, but she could understand alcohol, or curbing disobedience, or - something that made sense from awful people.]

I'm going to rip their throats out.

An accent that they gave me!

[He's smiling now, but it's not... a good smile... it's pulled up, ear-to-ear, all sharp teeth and twitchy corners, clearly filled with fury.]

For the record, this sort of tutor is the norm where I come from - the others can't get away with simply smacking their charges with rulers and the like, of course, but I have seen them pay off students to harass those who spoke like Jean does.
I imagine he only retained his due to being pulled out of school at an early age; otherwise, he'd sound more as if he was from a neighboring state, instead!

...

And no, in case you ask, you do not get to hear my accent.

I'm not going to ask you to use an accent you were physically abused out of??

[Horrified he would even suggest that she'd ask.]

Well - alright, yes, when you say it like that, it certainly sounds unreasonable, but... I-
I don't know, I thought you might, as... something you would want to know about me.

You seem very keen on knowing as much of me as you can, after all.

Not if it's something that causes you pain, Louis. I do want to know you, but I never, ever want to hurt you in pursuit of knowing you.

[...Actually, it's high time she wrap him up in a hug.]

[The hug comes, and it squishes his arms between them, considering he still had them lifted and held against his chest... but despite that, he still leans against her shoulder without hesitation, taking in a deep breath -
Holding it -
And slowly letting it back out again as a weary sigh.]

... I know you don't. But frankly, I never know what might hurt me until I've already spoken or acted.
If I didn't find my accent dreadfully embarrassing, I would have said yes without question.

Well... I'll just do my best then. And I accidentally hurt you, please tell me right away, and I'll do everything I can to make up for it.

G ol agapô.

[More direct than before.]

Edited 2025-11-05 01:15 (UTC)

...

Sa, gi.

[It's not a direct "I love you, too". It's more just "you, too". But it's used often enough to mean "I feel the same", among Grim Reapers, that he knows what he's doing replying with that.
And he knows that she won't.]

I'll do my best to remain vigilant for that sort of thing. But there may be times I don't realize until much later... and -
I feel you should know that... even if you do hurt me, if it's purely by accident, I will forgive you no matter what.

...

At this point, I'd likely forgive you doing things on purpose, really. You have me quite tightly wrapped around your finger, Ol Siaion.

[She doesn't know, but she's saving that for later.]

I can't imagine myself ever doing anything like that on purpose. Your friendship is a rare and precious thing that I never want to abuse.

I know. I know you never would. It... was merely an extreme example - illustrative, purely to show that my devotion runs deeply for you.
That's all.

... I'm not sure what makes my friendship rare, though. Precious, I could perhaps formulate some sort of bullshit arguement - but rare?

Rare in two different senses. It's rare because you don't allow many people to be your friend and to have that blanket forgiveness, and it's rare because you're my only friend who writes me poetry and wants to have my blood tattooed on them.

[A gentle squeeze.]

[Leaning into that squeeve even more... he's just putting his weight on her outright, at this point.
Which isn't saying much. There are gourds out there that weigh more than he does.
But still.]

... In me, thank you. A tattoo goes beneath the skin, it doesn't merely reside on top of it.

Edited 2025-11-05 01:27 (UTC)

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cw: just... casual mention of abuse...

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... this is real for the area ftr, im not making this up for drama,

hissss

hissing well deserved

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