sleepover sleepover SLEEPOVER

[phantasmagorial]

[ With the handful of new Executors awakening after the first batch, Rei's starting to get a little bit dithery. They're getting to be a big group now and while she's more than grateful for the help (and the company), she still finds herself worried about the group's cohesion. After all, Lion had admitted that he'd lashed out when he'd first awakened, Kingslayer and Pariah were at each other's throats and Iris wasn't even sure she wanted to be here at all.

Not that Rei could blame her.

But if they're going to be a team, then they at least need to be civil with each other. And getting in a bit of bonding before they have to go down and potentially double-die couldn't hurt.

So Rei borrows one of the hotel suites – a 'luxury' suite, according to the receptionist but to Rei's eyes, it just looks tacky as all get out. But it's big enough for the whole group and after spending an afternoon dragging in all the blankets she can find (and a few mattresses – thank god there aren't any other actual guests here to complain about her pillaging their rooms), Rei makes one final trip to the conbini to get... pretty much everything she can carry. Alcohol is right out (sorry, wine grandpa) but she brings back bulging bags of sodas, sweet drinks of all kinds and pretty much anything that looks made to be chugged. After that comes everything vaguely snack and candy-like in the store and a few things that might not actually be good to eat, and Rei feels confident in saying she's done.

She'd mentioned to a few of the others that she was having a bit of a get together that night, so all she can really do is wait for them to show up. She's in her pajamas, she's looked up sleepover games in the library and snacks, there's a TV mounted on the wall and she has... never held a sleepover before.

This is gonna turn out just fine. ]

Comments

[schardynfreude]

...Oh, child.

[Whether she is a child or not--in some ways, she seems older than the others, and in some ways just as young--is not the point. He was following along with the textbook explanation of this steam-powered city, fully intent on suggesting that's all well and good, but--

But. But she's never even met the man?

He reaches a hand out, palm along her cheek.]

I cannot imagine any invention or creation or discovery in all of mankind that could possibly be made that would outweigh how proud a father should be of his daughter. I hope...I hope that if memory returns to you, you remember him, and that he did think as such of you. But if not, then quite frankly he doesn't deserve you.

[alcahest]

[ she's startled by the intensity of his reaction more than she is by him reaching out to touch her — because it never occurred to her that she ought to feel sad. there were no emotions connected to her realisation at all. she had simply accepted it. but His Majesty touches her so kindly and his voice sounds so sad, and something in her chest twists, sharp and painful. she feels, oddly, like she doesn't deserve such a reaction. it seems dishonest to receive his feelings when she isn't hurt.

he calls her child, and in this moment her face reflects it: she looks up at him wide-eyed in open, blank confusion, his sentiment clearly one that she can't understand. she doesn't touch the hand that frames her face, and she doesn't pull away either.

that— his hand, more than anything, makes her think that she might cry. but she doesn't. she wonders if she's even capable of it. ]

Deserve me... But... [ she seems to be struggling with this concept. ] He's my father.

[ even without any memories of him, she feels that in her core. obedience; awe; loyalty; something that is as immovable as bedrock, which might be a feeling she should call love, though she isn't sure. ]

[schardynfreude]

A father you've never met? If that truly is so, then it hardly makes him a father at all. Who raised you to be the beautiful young lady that you are, hm? A mother, perhaps? Maids and sitters? Siblings?

Relations by blood are not always so immutable. [Of this, he is certain, though he does not stop to question such certainty. It just seems plain to see. How can her father be her father, truly, if he was never there for her?] Our memories are shattered things, and perhaps you do know him, more than these recited words of a city of steam and steel. But at least consider the possibility? [Family does not necessarily mean loyalty. Or love. And were her father so callous as to think a city to be larger than love for his daughter, then so help him if His Majesty ever crosses paths with that man in this afterlife.]

[alcahest]

[ she doesn't nod, because she doesn't want to lose his gentle touch, but she closes her eyes to think over his words. it's difficult to find any previously existing opinion in her heart; she doesn't feel strongly about much, it seems, beyond that foundational devotion to a father she can't even remember. if His Majesty is asking her to take this idea to heart, then — well, she won't know whether she can believe it or not until she tries, and she won't be able to try until she knows more about herself. ]

I hope I have some memories of him, but... [ at the very least, for now: ] I'll... try to remember what you said.

[ that's all she can promise, isn't it? that if her entire self-perception is once again rearranged by new memories, she'll hold on to what she's experiencing now. maybe she'll remember a family, but she'll remember what His Majesty said to her too; maybe she'll remember other people she cared about, like Saint-Germain, but she'll remember His Majesty's kindness too. new memories won't overwrite his gentle words, or the sensation of someone's touch against the uncovered skin of her cheek.

that last one, she definitely won't forget. it strikes her as something rare and precious. like she should be grateful for it. like it may never happen again, for some reason. her eyes are still closed, and she focuses on that point of contact. ]

Are people always this warm...?

[ ah. she hadn't actually meant to say that out loud. but she doesn't feel any embarrassment over it, so perhaps that's another feeling she's still lacking in. ]

[schardynfreude]

Ah--

[If she isn't embarrassed by it, then he'll make an effort not to be as well. His hand twitches...but doesn't pull away.]

Normally, to my knowledge. Unless, ah, I feel warmer than is normal? I don't see why, in death.

[He brings up his other hand to the other cheek, thumbs gently stroking along skin as though to brush away tears that are yet unshed. There's no romance intended in such a move, but all the tenderness in the (under)world nevertheless.]

People are warm to the touch. It is a comfort to have them near, to have casual contact, generally speaking. Sharing in warmth, each person not unlike the flame of a candle, burning bright. Filled with light, bestowing warmth, and inevitably flickering out.

[alcahest]

It sounds nice... The way you talk about it is very beautiful.

[ it also sounds like something she knew in theory, and never in practice. she could have said people are warm, or touch is a good feeling, and it would have been true the same way a child would say an elephant is big after seeing one in a picture book. there's a world of difference between knowing it as a fact and knowing it from experience.

the warmth of his hands framing her face, the slightly ticklish path left by the sweep of his thumb across her cheekbone — these don't seem like things she knew before this moment. her chest aches like her ribs might crack under some invisible weight, and her throat seems to have closed up tight. those are feelings she recognises.

she doesn't cry yet, but her head bows forward in His Majesty's gentle hold. ]

... I should know this, shouldn't I...? We don't have our memories, but we still remember some things, so why...

[ what does it mean that she doesn't remember this sensation at all, not even in the abstract? ]

[schardynfreude]

[why does this keep happening to him

Actually the better question is why are these young ladies so hard on themselves, so shocked when confronted by gentleness, so deserving yet devoid of attention and care? He could have continued to exist without the memory of Aera filling him with joy and love, certainly, but now that he's had that taste, he would never want to be without again.

One could argue that, to these near-strangers, he is too free with his affections. He would argue that it's clear everyone is too strict with theirs. And if not him, who else?]

I don't know what it means. [Yes, he can see the implications clear as day, but he doesn't want to give it a voice.] What I do know is that, here and now, you get to experience the warmth of others as much as you please. The touch of a hand. A hug from a friend. This. Whenever you may need it or desire it.