[ Commentlog ] Cyrus doesn't even get text for this.reservedempathMay 3 2010, 10:17:01 UTC
[Few things are crueler than a man setting a creature off to its own demise. Voile knows very well she doesn't require his help in any such form of the situation. For it, she'll gladly ensure that she has the last word.
So there are paces that a very enraged Gardevoir takes in proud stride, chin lifted, mouth drawn down into a displeased frown, and ever motion as stiff as the heart that pounds beneath a delicate structured frame. There is a door that she knocks on once and only once, no more or less indication of her presence.
What waits on the other side is nothing most would wish to cross.]
ACTIOOOOOOOON POOOOOOOOOOST!will_be_godMay 3 2010, 10:19:38 UTC
Cyrus looks up from his work--why was he up so late to begin with? "But moreover," he wondered aloud as if he had spoken the first part, "who would be here at this hour?"
ACTIOOOOOOOON POOOOOOOOOOST!reservedempathMay 3 2010, 10:25:22 UTC
She stands on the other side, too many things cycling through her mind. Anger and hatred. Loathing and despair. Sadness and mourning. Deception and sorrow, they lay hand-in-hand with one another. The world's reality is harsh. Voile herself, may be too emotional to handle it without destroying herself.
What would she be like without her restraint? What would she be like without her discipline?
It's out the window. She looks up. Her eyes find his. She wants him to know it's her doing it. She wants him to see what the world has done to her. She wants him to see how his torment influences her. She wants him to see every moment of it.
There is no self control to stop her from backhanding him with all of the strength that lies in her dominant hand.
if these are action posts, does that make Cyrus an Action Bastard?will_be_godMay 3 2010, 10:31:09 UTC
The force of the blow knocked him off kilter almost to the point of falling, but he caught himself on the wall as his hand covering the damaged area. He could already feel mild damage to the capillaries in his cheek.
He was overcome with rage, with betrayal, with hatred, with confusion, with despair...and finally nothing at all. His emotions were too powerful to process at once, and finally simply gave way to nothingness.
Yes. I believe it does. :3reservedempathMay 3 2010, 10:42:32 UTC
Voile really couldn't piece together who was more surprised. She, who had never lifted a hand to hurt someone before, or him, who had been utterly clocked by a young creature, and a female, none the less. His murmurings did not escape her
( ... )
Just stop. Don't talk to me like that anymore. Stop making me think this and that. I can't take it. I can't take this. I want it all to stop. I want the world to stop. I want everything to stop. Please stop.
Please stop. Please stop.
She sunk down, well aware of his words, well aware of how they made her feel. "...I..." she murmured softly. "...It's... so pointless."
"I went back to Lilycove," Voile heard herself saying, though it didn't feel like her at all. "Lilycove is my home. People... go to their homes. People belong at their homes. People belong... there. But I'm not a person. If I'm not a person do I belong anywhere? Am I just an unwanted piece
( ... )
There was a frustration. An immense frustration. It lasted no longer than a few moments and then it left. When someone reached the end of whatever it was they reached, that was it. There was nothing left. Even Voile had hit that. If there was nothing remaining, she really had nothing remaining. She could only sit on her words, sit on her agitation.
She'd made her point, however. She'd made her point to an irritating man. But what point was it? She could think of nothing better and nothing greater than returning to her room. A week of sleep and perhaps it would seem nothing had actually passed.
So there are paces that a very enraged Gardevoir takes in proud stride, chin lifted, mouth drawn down into a displeased frown, and ever motion as stiff as the heart that pounds beneath a delicate structured frame. There is a door that she knocks on once and only once, no more or less indication of her presence.
What waits on the other side is nothing most would wish to cross.]
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He opens the door.
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What would she be like without her restraint? What would she be like without her discipline?
It's out the window. She looks up. Her eyes find his. She wants him to know it's her doing it. She wants him to see what the world has done to her. She wants him to see how his torment influences her. She wants him to see every moment of it.
There is no self control to stop her from backhanding him with all of the strength that lies in her dominant hand.
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He was overcome with rage, with betrayal, with hatred, with confusion, with despair...and finally nothing at all. His emotions were too powerful to process at once, and finally simply gave way to nothingness.
Cyrus stood, muttering about the late hour.
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His eyes snapped to focus and he faced her. "You know, but do you intend to do anything about it?"
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Please stop.
Please stop.
She sunk down, well aware of his words, well aware of how they made her feel. "...I..." she murmured softly. "...It's... so pointless."
You are so pointless.
I am so pointless.
Everything is so pointless.
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Silently, more out of practicality so as not to wake up the neighbors, he closed the door.
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She'd made her point, however. She'd made her point to an irritating man. But what point was it? She could think of nothing better and nothing greater than returning to her room. A week of sleep and perhaps it would seem nothing had actually passed.
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