abysmalactor | RYSLIG

HEY. It's not like I'm that dens

[wait. what. what?]

what did I even do?!

YOU GAVE YOURSELF OVER TO THE ONE THAT'S BROUGHT US ENDLESS SUFFERING
THE ONE WHO TOOK AWAY OUR FRIENDS

YOU BETRAYED EVERYONE

HUH?!

WAIT, BACK UP, I THINK THERE'S SOME KINDA MISUNDERSTANDING. I DIDN'T GIVE UP ANYTHING? ESPECIALLY NOT MYSELF. LIKE THE GREAT SAWATARI-SAN WOULD BE BEHOLDEN TO ANYONE!

ALSO I'D NEVER BETRAY YOU GUYS???? SERIOUSLY? WHERE IS THIS COMING FROM ALL OF A SUDDEN

Don't you dare try lying to me
i heard everything
i know where you went
i know what you did

i hope it was worth it.

[ screw this. she has a whole ton of shit to move into the arcade. ]

i

i think you're going to have to be a little more clear because right now it sounds like you could be talking about anything?

i mean if i did it i guess it probably was worth it because i totally don't do anything not worth doing, ha!

oh, uh. but i guess it made you mad, too, so uh...sorry, for whatever it is? Uh.

[ It's probably for the best that she's not reading his messages anymore. ~~She's already killed him at home once already.~~

But hey, it's not like she'll be hard to find, right? ]

uh. yuzu? Yuzu?

Ten?

[after a couple more minutes of no answer from the text, Sawatari figures she might not be answering out of anger. Is she really actually packing up her stuff and leaving?

Time to check out her room and see for sure, he guesses. Oh god. Please don't let her set him on fire.]

[ There's nobody there when he walks in. There's a radio playing quietly atop one of her dressers, but Yuzu isn't there. Neither are a lot of her things. The closet is open, scattered accessories along the floor, dresses that slipped off their hangers, but the bar itself is bereft of wardrobe. The bottles she kept on the bureau, gone. The case for her viola is still propped against one of the walls, and small knickknacks still litter many of the flat surfaces. Her bookcase is only halfway emptied, and all the dried wreathes and bouquets still hang from the walls.

A hurried move, but still in progress. ]

[The room is seriously in disarray. He didn't expect it to be this bad. But on the other hand, it being this bad means he hasn't completely missed her yet. That...that's a good thing, right?

It almost feels like he's sealing his doom by stepping into the room, but he does it, feet clinking and scattering small accessories on the floor as he pads along. He stops at the bookshelf, tracing the spines of the remaining novels. The title of one of them seems familiar: a book about parasites. Ha. Wasn't this the one he tried to read last year, when they were all infected? He never really did get much reading done that night, did he?

They were able to joke around pretty easily back then, weren't they...? So what happened to change that now...?]

[ The door closes behind him, untouched. The music is quiet, some old instrumental piece with heavy reliance on strings; the upbeat tempo is not comforting. The disarray of the room and the open drawers reveals some hidden and forgotten trinkets. On her desk, a set of curled white horns — the remnant of her time as a demon, made into a holy weapon as she exists now; the polished knives in the open drawer are likely Kurosaki's. A few sets of earrings on her dresser, some necklaces, an old pair of sunglasses. On the bookshelf, most have the bindings of published works, but the bottom shelf has only five spiral notebooks, several with slips of paper and improvised bookmarks sticking out from their pages. On her bedside table, two polished stones — chunks of amber, they look like, with small daisies laid to rest within their centers. They look strange: the amber is filled with little cracks that shimmer, like bolts of suspended lightning.

The door swings open. Yuzu crosses the threshold, not from the apartment hallway, but from a deep darkness, a stretch of black and electric light that seems to tunnel back eternally. She looks sick. The pallor of her skin, of her scales, the darkness around all four of her eyes — she'd barely seemed to be recovering from Kurosaki's disappearance when Yuya vanished, too, and the sickliness has clung to her like a cloak since then. The thinness of her face and limbs, the consequence of her self-imposed starvation, only worsens her appearance.

She is not well; she has not been well for a long time. Standing there against the deep black of that forbidden realm, anger in her eyes and twisting at her mouth, only seems to exaggerate her decline. ]

What do you want now?

Eh? Isn't it obvious? I want an explana-

[The words come out of his mouth without thinking, before he can even turn around to face her. The book he'd been toying with, a finger on the spine tilting it somewhat out of place on the shelf, falls back into place, then topples over as he lets go of it.

Turning around, he's welcomed with a deathly apparition. Yuzu being pale with grief is nothing new to him, she's been bleached since Kurosaki vanished, and any color regained was lost when neither of them could find Yuya again. Since then, the freedom of not having to feel the hunger has seemed more like a curse than a blessing in Sawatari's eyes-it feels more and more like an excuse to not eat, to hurt, to waste away. Seeing the gradual changes day by day didn't seem like much, but now presented in front of him with all her anger, all her exhaustion, all at once, it's jarring and uncomfortable, and he wonders just how long things can really go on like this.]

...Jeez, Ten, you look horrible...

[Seriously bad timing on that, Sawatari. Even if your face is crumpling into resignation rather than anger, it's still really bad timing.]

[ She bristles, pride alive and well; her tail flicks behind her, back and forth with aggressive threat. Her wings pull in tighter, and with a noise in her throat more animal than human, she strides into the room. She pushes past Sawatari with excessive force, snatching the two gems of amber from the side table with the priority of defensiveness. It's not until the stones are in hand that she glowers back at him. ]

Like I care what you think about me now.

[ But it is not anger alone: the redness in her cheeks, the over-brightness of her eyes, the way her arms tremble as she moves towards the desk — anger is the crumbling rock she clings to, rather than endure once again the storms of hurt. ]

Whuf-!

[With all the fur on him now, and with how little Yuzu has been eating, somehow, it doesn't feel like it should have as much force as it should. Indeed, Sawatari only stumbles back, his own wings furling out somewhat to help balance him, clumsily knocking over the pair of sunglasses off the dresser.]

S'not like you ever cared what I think about you...Agh...seriously, I don't get it! What'd I do?!

Stop it.

[ The room is unbearably warm. She answers with her teeth clenched, tail still swaying behind her. ]

You can't pretend you didn't know what would happen!

What would happen with-what?

[He can't feel the heat, but there's sweat trickling down the back of his neck anyway. Hell...what did he do to get into this?]

Jeez...can't you just tell me what's eating you? You're acting like I should understand, but I don't-I can't figure it out!

[There it is, all over again. Yuzu refusing to communicate, Sawatari being unable to understand, just like the old days. Over and over and over again.]

[ Too stubborn to change her path, to learn from her mistakes — burning bridge after bridge until there's no connections left. A volcanic island, isolated at sea.

There's steam in her eyes. ]

I was there, you idiot! Did you really think I would ever forgive you for joining her?

Huh...? I haven't joined up with any...

[Joining her. Her. There's only one person-or well, he should say being-that Yuzu would be so vehemently biased against, and as he puts a hand to his chin in thought, it's easy to see the realization dawn in his eyes.]

Oh. Ohhhhhhhh.

[Oh. Right. Yuzu works there. Ha. She did spot that little meeting, didn't she? Sawatari chuckles awkwardly.]

So that's what this is about...

[ Where does she keep that fan, anyway? Because one moment she's standing across the room from Sawatari, her hands balled into fists at her side, and the next she's nearly atop him, swinging the folded paper of her slapstick fan with all the force of a baseball bat, a sledgehammer, a battleaxe. It's a miracle that the fan itself hasn't caught fire, from how hot her anger burns.

That kind of nonchalant admission — doesn't he understand what he's done? How clueless, how idiotic is he? She doesn't know what hurts worse, the betrayal now, or how this filter of light changes every scene that came before.

She smacks him with the fan a second time for good measure before throwing it aside, hurt coalescing and bubbling up from her chest, tightening around her throat and in her face and at her eyes, tears burning in her eyes. It hurts just to breathe.

What's left that she can't leave behind? Once she crosses back through that threshold and pulls the door shut behind her, he won't be able to follow her anymore. With unsteady balance, she turns back to the desk. Just the horns, imbued with her holy magic... if she has to leave her journals behind, so be it, but she can't stay here any longer. ]

Yowch-!

[Whatever reaction he was expecting from Yuzu...it wasn't that. The fan...to be hit like that is so jarringly normal, so much a relic from the past, that it almost doesn't fit a serious argument like this. He'd laugh, if he didn't feel like he'd somehow be offending Yuzu by doing so.]

Agh-Yuzu! It's not-ooof! [The second fan cuts him off, making him catch his breath.]

It's not what-ack-what you think! Nothing happened!

[He catches himself, putting a mouth to his lips, like he's thinking.]

...Well actually, a lot of things happened...but not what you're thinking of. That didn't happen.

Like I can believe you now.

[ She grabs the horns in one hand, fingers curling around the familiar curves. It doesn't bring any comfort. ]

Nobody goes with a Fog priestess to Dyster for a social call.

[ Hurt leaves her head swimming, her body trembling, unstable, but anger keeps her moving, keeps her on her feet. It's too much to bear; once she's back in her room at the arcade, she can let herself collapse.

She staggers towards the door. ]

Well no, it wasn't a social call...more like an espionage mission...

[a what. Sawatari raises his hands, reaching out for Yuzu when she starts making her way across the room again.]

A-aaaaah, Yuzu, wait!

[ He reaches for a hand, a sleeve, some swatch of her dress, her wing, but instead his paw closes around the thin, bony stretch of tail, well above the vane. Its usual bend pulls straight, taut — it's not until it's stretched to its full length, creating resistance, that she stops in her tracks. She can't fully turn, but the limb tries to thrash loose. ]

Let go of me!

[Ha ha, shit. That wasn't what he intended to do.]

Aaa-aah, sorry, I didn't mean-agh, waaaait!

[He almost lets go of the tail, before he realizes: shit, if he lets go, he might not get a chance to clear things up.]

Awww, Yuuuuzuuu...at least lemme explain properly!

There's nothing to explain! [ The anger, the hurt, the disproportionate reaction — it's hard for her to be reasonable when her body is basically on the continuous verge of shutting down. ]

Actually, there's a lot to explain, or I wouldn't be telling you that I wanted to!

[Fine. You want disproportionate reactions? He can do that. He'll out-drama you if that's what it takes.]

Ho-nes-tly, do you think I'd do something if I didn't think it was necessary? I'm serious when I say you'll want to hear it!

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