yogen | (open) break yourself inside out

Entry tags:

(open) break yourself inside out

who: Whoever wants to show up.
what: Nine body pileup, who wants to compile info.
when: 10/7, at least
where: Dorms study hall
warnings: Attempted murder over children's games

[in the afternoon, a message shows up on the forums. is she copying Natsume? utterly, since his organization is why she's thinking about this.]

h.adams

Please try to set aside an hour or so of your time this evening at around 7:30 pm to return to the study hall. I'd like to speak with as many people as possible regarding the recent incident in the school.
-H.A.

[and she won't be replying to anything posted below it.

by the time the hour rolls around, Helena's set herself up in the study hall with the rolling whiteboard she took from the school set up. the markers are a toss up between colors, but the important part is there. she's seated herself by it, and when 7:30 hits, an alarm on her PDA goes off. silencing it, she stands up.]

Thank you for coming. I realize it's another demand on people's time, but given the vast scope of the murders, there's more to be said than unsaid. With it, we had no choice but to split up and find what we could, to do our best at the least to remember and categorize what we saw. Generally speaking, I'd like if we could pool our resources to see if we might draw any parallels between what was where, and if there are any peculiarities to distinguish this or that event.

With that said - [she points behind her at the whiteboard, where Rantarou has been kind enough to write out a list] - if we could try to speak individually, we could write down anything critical shared, so we could look at it from a larger perspective. As well, if something comes up in other days, we could reconvene and add in new information.

As I am unable to do it for you, please allow my dependable transcriber to do so. And a final note before we begin - if anyone becomes overly agitated, I request that you kindly step outside until you can keep your voice to a moderate level. Sound echoes well enough without yelling added to the mix.

Let's begin.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The past's the past... it all happened so suddenly, too.

[He'd been paying a portion of attention because if other people were going to play Komaeda's little games he could at least vicariously see what they got from it, but there was very little warning, Dito's frustration growing until suddenly it reached flashpoint.]

Still... you could have gotten hurt yourself.

[His tone's torn between respect afforded, because she knew the risks and did it anyway, a world still alien to him, and the concern of an incredibly narrow miss, the stolen breath of a car passing inches in front of you, the vaccuum pulling you forward.]

I know. But being able to turn his anger on myself...

[the knife could have been buried in her chest instead. and that wound may have scarred over, as many should have before and did not. it would have hurt like a bright thing, hot and cold together, a point radiating out pain like a star. that perception she had lingering, that let her know what Rantarou experienced...]

I knew what I was doing. Complicated situations are somewhat familiar to me.

.......

There's a flaw in that reasoning, Helena.

[He can't help but remember someone who thought her death would solve everything. It's still a raw painful spot in him, even if eased a little by being allowed some closure in the end. Sidney's warning; 'you shouldn't be someone like me'. Helena shouldn't be either.

He's not going to elaborate because he can't really elaborate himself, what feels bone deep, the idea of 'if I turn his anger on myself' that lies his own anger at the feet of that him.]

You've done this a lot, huh...

[It's a murmur, more than anything.]

[she can't say too much, and worry him unduly. can't hold herself up as some sort of martyr, when everything boiled down to practicality. sometimes you had to leave someone behind to save the group. sometimes you took the wrath of another away and led them on a chase, to buy more time and protect them. the uninjured shielded the injured. it's simply reflex by now, and a few months in purgatory couldn't erase that.]

It's okay, I promise. He was too disoriented to strike any killing blows. And if he had tried to give chase, I'm a very good runner.

[so the likelihood of her survival was much, much higher.]

As I said, I understood exactly what I was doing.

[Practicality... it's a calculus he's inclined to but unused to, unpracticed in, his efforts in it often backfiring. You don't get expertise without experience...]

...I'll go ahead and trust your expertise.

[He's already worried, really. The implications aren't good. It's a small roving anger at the universe, looking for a target.]

Still... ahaha. [Still what? It shouldn't have happened? It shouldn't have been down to her alone? It still leaves a mark even if it works?] ...be nice if it didn't happen again.

...

Well, that's the meeting over, I think. I thought I saw some spare hot chocolate in the kitchen... [That's been there since the sleepover but 'let's get out of this room and have hot drinks' sounds more direct and awkward than he'd like.]

That sounds quite nice, actually.

[he'll see how her hand raises, almost hesitant, before it comes to rest on his arm. something solid to touch, so she doesn't lose track of him, so that she can stay close and hopefully have a way to ensure that stays like that. not too tight, not to startle him, but she needs that as much as she needs a hot drink in her.

since Rantarou's healed, moving, there's no more reason to stay.]

Let's go, then...

[His movement under her touch is careful, trying to keep his arm in place at the level she's set; there's a stiffness to it under the cloth of his comfy jacket, but he doesn't pull away or brush her off as they head over there.

Thankfully it's empty, what with most everyone still behind in the meeting. He heads over to the kettle, flicks it on, and starts pulling things out of the cupboard above it one handed, sounds of cups being moved aside and set down on the countertop, his arm going a little looser for more range as it pulls back and forth slightly.]

...how many spoons do you want, Helena?

[Also, is he going to get his arm back at some point, but... after that... he can't really begrudge her this. Or having half the contents of the mug be chocolate powder, if that's what she wants.]

Whatever you think is best. I'm not picky.

[slowly, she'll let go. she doesn't want to, but he needs it back, and she can feel that stiffness. maybe she presumed too much - maybe he doesn't like touch when he's been startled, and she files that information away in her mind. instead, she withdraws to lean against the counter, folding her hands in front of herself.]

...what are we going to do, Sou?

[He's more a fan of savoury than sweet, so he'll give her mug the same few spoons as he's having, put the tin back in the cupboard, and lean on the counter while they wait for the kettle to boil.]

...asking the tough questions, huh.

[There's a silence as he trails off, hand in scarf and face in pensive thought. There really... isn't a lot they can do, and it bothers him.]

...hey, Helena. What do you think of Komaeda? Now that you've met him.

[He's going somewhere with this, promise. Well, multiple places. It's a question loaded with birdshot.]

Why do you ask?

[unfortunately for him, she can sense the questions behind the question. can't tell him that Komaeda's hand on her shoulder helped her handle what had left her bereft, that she'd made strange promises she can't articulate. those were secrets to hold. still, she wasn't shy about claiming the man as her friend publicly.]

Ahaha, I'm not trying to trap you...

[Partially a lie, but it's a relatively benign one, like one of those paper chinese finger trap things. More... this is the example for the point for a reason.]

I'll just come out and say it, huh. What would you do to stop him murdering again? Hypothetically.

[He's noticed they're friends; they're both in Ethics Club, he can't not, even if the depth of it is more unknowable. He hasn't said anything until now... he's still that much of a coward, isn't he, but something about Helena placing herself in danger has galvanized him a bit.]

Kill him? He'll be back, and it's hard, anyhow. Trap him? How long? It wouldn't discourage him. Go so far as to cut off his arms and legs? His tongue? That's the most dangerous part of him, after all.

[It's like tar dripping off his tongue, the words. Hot and sick. He can't be himself for this even saying it, imagining it, so it has to be someone else, tone sharp and toying and sing-song. There's a rustle as he shifts his weight, trapping moving closer to her like pulling at someone's arm. Not that far, Sou.]

Thoughts?

...Komaeda isn't the only murderer in this school.

[she can feel the way his presence shifts, like something tangible and close to her. tension, bitter like medicine, sharp like knives. something's under his skin, and he's trying to extract it through her. it's not fair, and she chafes at that - Komaeda isn't someone everyone will agree with or tolerate, but she's made her own choices. she will not excuse him, but she will not lie down and let him be maligned, much as he courts it.]

Lucifer, Dito, and someone whose name we don't even know. They're in the same category. Not to mention those who have killed before that I am unaware of. Are you asking me what I would do to stop all of them murdering again?

Ahaha, no he isn't. But hearing that about him specifically... it horrifies you, right? Or... maybe you don't care about him at all?

[Too far, way too far, why does he keep forgetting, that when he loosens the leash a little it's going to take off running and pulling him behind. Get a grip, Shin. Stick to the plan.]

That's how it'll be for all of them, whatever idea anyone tries. Lucifer, Dito... Haha, yeah, and everyone before that too. With enough hearts and minds in your hands... you really can get away with murder.

[That's what it comes down to in the end, isn't it? It's not about justice, or fairness, or even prevention. It's about who has friends, and who's left in the cold. The will of the crowd.

Majority vote.]

That's what you were asking, isn't it?

No. It wasn't what I was asking at all. Even if I don't think we should do all of that, I don't think we should do nothing - but that wasn't my question.

[just because she didn't outwardly show all her disgust didn't mean it wasn't there. didn't mean it didn't twist her stomach into knots to think about it. she didn't want that for him - would feel bad about it happening to anyone, even if they were a murderer. even Dito is someone she doesn't want to witness the torment of.

her hands hold her cane a little closer to herself, and her head bows some. considering, but protecting herself in the meanwhile.]

Why did you ask about him specifically, when you could have used any other murderer's name? What makes him your bogeyman?

Well, he's the one I know you know, Helena.

[True but... it's also beating around the bush. A deflection, a lie. ...he owes her a little better than that, with the bitter acrid taste still on his tongue. She's too sharp as well. There's the shift as he places his face in his scarf, eye contact falling away.]

...

Say, Helena... if he killed me, what would you do?

[Well, he knows the answer to that. Nothing would happen really. Since he already knows, it can't hurt him to be surprised.]

Haha, that's cruel, isn't it. I-I won't make you answer that. Boogeyman, huh... What's worse, do you think? Someone you don't know who'll kill you once and be done with it, or a friend who'll torment you for fun, over and over?

[the question has her hands tighten on her cane even more, head raising on reflex - he'll see from the corner of his eye the uncertainty, the way that question makes her feel like she's been caught. fear, like that question might really be before her, before he changes tack. is this what he wanted, to see this? to send her off balance when she had gone with him to try to collect herself - to hide before going back out, looking for Rantarou to check on him, to try and be strong again when she'd wanted to flee from that room.

what does he want? what is he trying to say?]

...Someone you know. Because the more they know you, the better they know how to hurt you, I'd imagine. They wouldn't even be a friend, just someone using the word.

[why is he asking this?]

Just someone using the word... r-right.

[He gives a small, quiet and mirthless bark of a laugh, pulling his beanie down his head with both hands before turning to the cups and the kettle which has, mercifully, boiled, quietly flicking off sometime behind all this, back to her. He saw that motion, that readiness to flee, to hit him with the same thing she hit Dito with. Why does he keep doing this? Why can't he stop? What did he expect?

It really is true. The more you know someone, the better you can hurt them... He lifts his head, back still to her as he pours.]

Do you want milk in yours?

[He's not really a milk person but he doesn't know if Helena is. There's only the slightest doubling tremor to the sound of him putting the kettle back down on it's stand that suggests he's anything but completely calm and casual.]

...Sou. Look at me.

[she knows he isn't. she knows he's turned away from her - she can't sense his eyes. it's not about the drinks anymore, but about answering this, because it feels like the moment she lets it slip away she'll never hold it again. never be able to come near where she stumbled into.

breathe in. breathe out. breathe in. try to face it. her voice is softer when she speaks again, but Helena doesn't waver.]

What's really on your mind? There's something there, I know there is. Please...

[the hand that doesn't hold her cane reaches out, feeling for where he is. whatever she ends up touching, it's soft, and she holds onto it - not him, so that tension won't reemerge, but still him, so he maybe won't run away.]

I want you to trust me.

[Her hand closes in one of the wings of his jacket; he half-turns, at the motion and request, hand hovering in the air over the cups before coming back to hover over his scarf.]

I...

[Maybe you can perceive it. His heart, trembling. He wants to trust her too. He does. Never mind the part of him that whispers that anything he says can get back to Komaeda, the moment she's asked, because she doesn't see the danger- but. He does. He... he wants to be understood. At his core, he wants to connect. He wants to be able to trust her.]

I-I... I don't want you to. End up like me. D-doubting every time someone is kind, even a little. Hurting others... I hurt you just now, didn't I. Always being aware just what someone could do with anything they know about you... because of people like that. It doesn't... feel great.

[He gives a small, self-deprecating laugh.]

I really thought... I could be in control, this time. N-now that I knew. Ahaha... as if.

...you haven't hurt me.

[there's much she has to say, but this needs to be said first, before all the rest. if nothing else, he needs to hear this. her hand tightens a little on his jacket, and she's glad she can't hear anyone else coming - he doesn't need more reasons to run away.]

No, I was disturbed because I don't want that to happen to you. That you would be killed...

[she doesn't want to make that choice, to have to stand there like some arbiter, as if the words of a single young woman mean anything in regards to who is worthy to live. pulled in opposing directions, like a doll whose limbs threaten to tear.]

What you've been through, who you've known to hurt you so, that kind things don't fit, I can scarcely imagine. I won't lessen it by trying to make it fit in my words. But...there are some things I do understand. And you're right - it doesn't feel great at all.

[the last words are whispered, and somehow this admission is stranger than all the rest. feels odd, like feathers spat out of the mouth. it wasn't meant to be there.]

Still, there's light, even if you're used to the dark.

[Is she lying about that, for his sake? He can't tell. He can only wish he really hasn't hurt her.]

Ah...

[He... he shouldn't have spoken to her in that classroom, then. He's already dead, so maybe that zero percent has lost it's power over him, gone like the circle around his neck, or maybe it just shows something deep about him, summed up in two digits.]

W-well, it's not like I want that either... It scared you that badly, huh? S-sorry.

[There's an alert sharpness in his eyes and a crack chipping down his heart as it and the feathers drift down, because... she knows, and she understands, for the worst possible reason. When did that happen? Was it under his nose or... something where he'd already failed before he could even start? It's an ache of a thought.

'Hurt you', 'lessen it'... he doesn't know how to think or feel about these so he'll just fold them away.]

Ahaha, that's the problem, isn't it? Telling them apart... [Maybe the light's an oncoming train, to pull at an ancient metaphor. There's a beat where he remembers, and then shakes his head.] ...'maybe I should have believed in everyone'. That's what I was thinking while I died, so...

[So he's. Trying. But it's hard. Okay it wasn't the only thing he was thinking, or even the last, which was along the lines of 'really hope I haven't fucked up the code' but that's less poignant in this moment.]

[her hand on his coat tightens just a little more, the look on her face passing through shock into something sadder, then acceptance. words that are so heavy, yet tumble out because that door was opened a few days ago. something she shouldn't admit, but she does.]

...you as well?

[another. it is one thing to be told you are in purgatory. it is another to know your death, to have faced it - to face it over and over, in her case. but there it is, a confession between the two of them to hold. they'll get back to what he was recalling in a moment, but this is important - seeing the same wounds, and saying there it is.]

That's all of us here, right?

[But that's more of a placeholder sentence while he thinks about what she's saying with those three words because... does she remember her own, like him? And after that conversation about knowing or not knowing, too...]

...you're the only other person here I've met that remembers it, though.

[Sara didn't, and he doesn't know about Rantaro.]

[a slow, precise nod. maybe it will throw some things in perspective for him, maybe he'll just take it as the gift of knowledge it is. that she knows, intimately, what that abyss is. that surviving, and struggling towards the surface isn't enough. that sometimes you're just not strong enough. but you will try anyway.

she waits, then, for his reply. for it to sink it really, the full weight of it. it's not the lightest thing to give to someone, but if it helps him trust, she will let him perceive it.]

...

[A second, before the full extent of what she's giving him with this clicks, something of her and something... he could use against her, horrifyingly. But then... just knowing the weight of it that doesn't give very many ideas of what to say about it. He hadn't wished that on her at all, the opposite in fact; that knowing of what it was like to know there's nothing you could do... but that didn't really matter because she already did. The ache returns to that spot of his heart.]

Do... you... want to talk about it?

[It's said with the slowness of someone carefully testing out new and uncertain footing. It's the sort of thing you say, isn't it? He's not trying to extract new information from her, or poke wounds, but... she seems to think this sort of thing helps, so maybe it'll help her. (Shifting things further away from the conversational pit they'd just slingshotted around is a bonus.)]

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