[MoM][IC Contact]

[pummelgranite]

"Persephone. Speak."

Comments

[pummelgranite]

You can go fuck your exercised care. I am a sharp implement.

[dendarii]

Better to be the wielder than the weapon.

[pummelgranite]

Uh huh. She probably would have agreed with you.

[dendarii]

... She? Who's she?

[pummelgranite]

The wielder. Former. Get it?

[dendarii]

Killed her? Maybe we would have gotten on well then.

[pummelgranite]

[ What's he even saying now? Would he? This whole conversation makes less and less sense. Like it's a conversation between two different people. Or at least, not involving her at all.


She's . . . mad, right? She was mad a moment ago, and she's sure that mad is what she's feeling now, but it feels like she went past that. Went too far and now everything is seeming rapidly less real. Her insides are congealing and cooling like a corpse's might.

She tries to hold onto the anger. Anger's easy, isn't it? Anger is hers, right? Anger can just say "fuck you," and it won't leave her alone to the darkness and fog. Anger won't forget how to breathe, like she's about to. ]

Fuck you.

[dendarii]

[ If they were talking face to face, Miles might see some of that and sympathize. If they were even actually talking to each other and not mutually lashing out, he might have sympathized then too.

Instead they have this train wreck. ]

What's next? Going to tell me to go kill myself?

[pummelgranite]

[ She should point out again that it wasn't her intent. She should tell him he didn't hear anything that's not inside her head 24/7. She should just tell him to fuck off again. Or to leave her alone. Insult his height, his weird obvious fetish-bait body guard. Something. Anything. Just reply.


Instead, she places her phone face down. Then she finds the furthest, safest corner of the mausoleum she can find and lays down in it with her hood pulled up over her head. ]

[dendarii]

[ Miles watches his phone like a hawk for the first few minutes. Then he paces. Then the guilt starts to sink in, slowly. He hadn't meant for that to go quite as poorly as that. But what did he expect? And what was he trying to do really? Hurt himself on her? Her self description as a sharp implement isn't far off the mark ... Gregor and Aral's stricken faces are what make him put his own phone down, eventually.

He's going to take a goddamn walk. Heropa's park is nice this time of year ... maybe he can wrangle up some trouble (and rescue a Vulcan) while he's at it. ]