[ It loops? That's concerning, but it would explain the second set of memories that overlay those he knows to be true. The more he thinks on it, he's certain that they knew each other very well. He knows where scars might be if he were to peak under his clothes, how cool his skin is, and what a troubled individual he is. It's obvious just by looking at him now though, the empty eyes and false smile that he senses rarely falters for long.
It would explain it, and should that be the case then he has no place acting so familiar with him. He remembers himself after but a moment. He unconsciously places his hand over his heart as he watches the other. It must be from watching his discomfort, but there's an uncomfortable ache, as though somebody were pinching the organ inside. It's rather bothersome, so he tries not to pay so much mind to it. ]
I see... The school erases your memories once its cycle has completed then? It seems wasteful to lose progress so often.
[ As one who works with memories, it's more unsettling than he lets on, and his fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt briefly as a sudden sense of unease strikes him. He should know this person, however little right he has to be overly friendly with him, and that means he should be able to understand him. The idea of starting from scratch, of his mind being tampered with, is impossibly frustrating.
The polite smile never falters. ]
As for my favorite book, I have too many to count! But I must admit that I'm partial to Mark Z. Danielewski's House of Leaves. It's a story that's dear to me... I'm rather fond of Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None as well.
[ If preferences were to speak of a person, then his choices would paint the picture of a rather troubled man. One is a labyrinth in and of itself, a web connected together by countless threads of perspectives and hidden messages, stories within stories and shifting perspectives. It's about the Minotaur and repressed feelings, of love lost and the attempts to revive it, and of the feelings of guilt and obsession that corrode the mind and body of those who are trapped in the past. There is a happy ending only for those who exist, while the most the living can do is pretend. What a mess of a life it is.
The latter is a fair bit simpler, but nonetheless significant in plucking lives off like flowers on a petal, one by one, as the culprit picks away at the villains in the story one by one. The culprit is a judge and arbiter who brings his gavel down on those who were never punished in life, a proud and righteous man who rids the world of scum by offering them symbolic deaths.
His smile falters for the first time as he finds himself unable to pull his eyes away from Komaeda's scratching. ]
Are you alright, Komaeda-kun?
(deleted comment)
NOT BETTER ok you know what that's fair, she should
Yes... Anyone would when faced with such a tragic deterioration. The mind is a delicate thing, isn't it? How much sadder when one suffers from an affliction that they can never overcome.
[ It's not intended to be a comment on Komaeda, although the same might apply, as the afflictions he speak of are something far more cruel. They lead to delusions and tampered memories, twist relationships into something cruel and harmful when they should be fond memories, and before long their monsters become real. It's watching someone slowly die, losing their mind first and their body second, without being able to do anything about it.
It's the worst kind of pain one can inflict on a person. He would know.
He blinks at the order, momentarily puzzled, but curiosity gets the best of him and he finds himself complying readily enough. He moves to the side of it and adjusts his position to secure his footing before leaning forward and pressing his weight against it. He uses one step after another to propel him forward, and it doesn't take much effort for him to reveal what's behind it. ]
[ It's scattered pieces of knowledge, like a completed puzzle that had pieces taken out here and there. He can remember the gardener and the counselor, the cats and a few other points of intrigue, but the entire school setting doesn't feel quite right to him. He's certain that the rooms should be in different places.
He frowns at the name. The Sara that he knows of is still a middle school student. He's better acquainted with her father, but even that isn't a close relationship. They're not so close that his mind jumps to assumptions despite knowing the surname. ]
Chidouin-san? I'm afraid I'm not familiar.
[ He gives Komaeda a dubious look. He doesn't like the idea of exposing his back to anyone, much less one he just met. ]
Wouldn't it be better for you to go first? You seem more familiar with the passage than I am.
[ He's sturdy enough to do more than budge a few inches from the unexpected touch at first, but by time the other is pushing on him it leaves him with two uncomfortable choices. He shiver beneath his touch. It's a pleasant feeling to have hands running down his back, but it's probably just the sudden coolness. He knows him, but as long as it's not mutual they might as well be strangers.
Perhaps he should walk it back before he makes the situation any more uncomfortable. ]
It would be untoward of me to equate you with someone simply because they had your name and face. I was a little out of sorts, I'm afraid... It is nonetheless a pleasure to meet you, Komaeda-kun. I look forward to working with you.
[ That's a little better for addressing a stranger, despite the awkward start and his current predicament. ]
Ahaha... Komaeda-kun will bump into me if I don't! I'm going, I'm going...
[ He swallows, trying to hide the small sound that comes when his hands move to his hips, but Komaeda seems to be right, as it does have the effect of getting to move forward. His mouth goes dry, and he has to place a hand over his chest to avoid coming on too strong himself. It must be because he's familiar, but even so, Hiyori rarely has this kind of reaction to someone.
The mention of kidnapping earns a slight frown, and he's grateful for the distraction. He won't inquire about the details, as it's likely the least interesting part of the conversation for both of them. People act in such ways all the time. They'll even take someone close enough to mold them into who they miss. ]
Of course it does. It's only the blind and selfish who can't tell the difference between individuals simply because they share similarities. Even children will get upset if you try to replace their favorite toy with an identical one. If you craft the same item a hundred times, there were always be slight variations; if you live the same life a hundred times, you will always come out a different person.
[ Children grow attached to their favorite toy for the love that they put into ti and the way that they've personified it. Humans are even more irreplaceable, for their memories won't sync up with your own; their personality won't be the same for their lived experience. It's what makes ASUNARO's AIs so amazing. They're a person exactly as they should be, a perfect replication, and they can sync up with one's memories. ]
Still, it is hard to shake that fondness for a person, now isn't it?
[ Well, there's no point in denying it when he's already acted in such a familiar manner. ]
Yes, a little bit, but if you'll give me a little while I'm sure I can sort it out. You aren't the person I knew, but a stranger I happen to know a few things about. You have a different air about you than the Komaeda-kun I remember knowing before.
[ It's no different than how Hiyori has a different air than he might were he older. He is, in ways, more amicable than his older counterpart for having such a desire to appear so. He's a little more arrogant but a little less bitter for still never having had his role stripped from him. But he's no less perfect, nor is he any worse at sizing people up. Even now, it only takes a look and a few words for him to understand a person, with or without memories. He must have a bit more sense too, because he's young enough to don a fluffy ponytail rather than the rattail he would have adopted a year or two later. ]
Does it bother you? My memories are fuzzy, and so I can assure you that I don't remember anything in nature.
[ Which is to say that he's not carrying any of Komaeda's secrets. He's an honest person, but everyone has parts of themselves that they'd rather others not know about. ]
Now, now... I assure you that there's no need to be so defensive... Hm, why don't I say it this way instead? You are my old new friend! ☆ Or perhaps I should say I met you in my dreams? ♡
[ His voice is light and even playful, unbothered by the prospect of being unable to regain what was lost when there are so many better ways of doing so. Komaeda should know that well enough from interacting with their doll. He would know better than any other of their goals and wants, of how they should bive the world the ability to revive the dead and even love long lost.
That said, it's hard to ignore the hands on his hips, and he wonders if there aren't certain parts that he wouldn't mind having again, but it's nothing so deep as placing hopes in reviving a dead relationship. He must have experience with fools who wish for him to remain the same while their stimuli changes, and while the person with them changed in turn. Idiotic indeed - pathetic, even, though he wouldn't use that word so openly. He flashes a cheery smile over his shoulder.
He can't let himself be this distracted. Either way, it should be clear that he's trying to clear away any lingering tension. ]
Please don't worry. My hopes shall be squarely focused on the Komaeda-kun who stands before me.
[ It's the janitor's closet but tbh it's so windy that it's easy to end up in there anyway so that's where they are now!! Those words are ominous. It takes an effort him to remain relaxed, his body showing no signs of the anxiety budding in his heart. Hiyori has always been sensitive to the moods and words of others, and there's a dull ache in his torso that he can't quite shake. It almost comes as a relief hen he's released, though there's a hint of disappointment as well.
He shakes his head as he glances around the room. It's an old school, but everything is in pristine condition. The generators powering it are in perfect condition, perhaps because students have no reason to go about destroying their only power source. ]
No, I haven't... I don't recall being able to access this place.
[ His memories are fuzzy and incomplete, with just little bits and pieces coming back to him, but he's almost certain that this place should be inaccessible. He watches Komaeda with care, as though trying to read his mind. ]
Might I ask what change you're referring to? I'm afraid that I don't understand.
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KOMAEDA IS ALWAYS HIS FAVORITE he dethroned sara, she's boring when she's not being a villain
It would explain it, and should that be the case then he has no place acting so familiar with him. He remembers himself after but a moment. He unconsciously places his hand over his heart as he watches the other. It must be from watching his discomfort, but there's an uncomfortable ache, as though somebody were pinching the organ inside. It's rather bothersome, so he tries not to pay so much mind to it. ]
I see... The school erases your memories once its cycle has completed then? It seems wasteful to lose progress so often.
[ As one who works with memories, it's more unsettling than he lets on, and his fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt briefly as a sudden sense of unease strikes him. He should know this person, however little right he has to be overly friendly with him, and that means he should be able to understand him. The idea of starting from scratch, of his mind being tampered with, is impossibly frustrating.
The polite smile never falters. ]
As for my favorite book, I have too many to count! But I must admit that I'm partial to Mark Z. Danielewski's House of Leaves. It's a story that's dear to me... I'm rather fond of Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None as well.
[ If preferences were to speak of a person, then his choices would paint the picture of a rather troubled man. One is a labyrinth in and of itself, a web connected together by countless threads of perspectives and hidden messages, stories within stories and shifting perspectives. It's about the Minotaur and repressed feelings, of love lost and the attempts to revive it, and of the feelings of guilt and obsession that corrode the mind and body of those who are trapped in the past. There is a happy ending only for those who exist, while the most the living can do is pretend. What a mess of a life it is.
The latter is a fair bit simpler, but nonetheless significant in plucking lives off like flowers on a petal, one by one, as the culprit picks away at the villains in the story one by one. The culprit is a judge and arbiter who brings his gavel down on those who were never punished in life, a proud and righteous man who rids the world of scum by offering them symbolic deaths.
His smile falters for the first time as he finds himself unable to pull his eyes away from Komaeda's scratching. ]
Are you alright, Komaeda-kun?
NOT BETTER ok you know what that's fair, she should
[ It's not intended to be a comment on Komaeda, although the same might apply, as the afflictions he speak of are something far more cruel. They lead to delusions and tampered memories, twist relationships into something cruel and harmful when they should be fond memories, and before long their monsters become real. It's watching someone slowly die, losing their mind first and their body second, without being able to do anything about it.
It's the worst kind of pain one can inflict on a person. He would know.
He blinks at the order, momentarily puzzled, but curiosity gets the best of him and he finds himself complying readily enough. He moves to the side of it and adjusts his position to secure his footing before leaning forward and pressing his weight against it. He uses one step after another to propel him forward, and it doesn't take much effort for him to reveal what's behind it. ]
... Ah.
STOP THAT'S OUR HUSBAND YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT
He frowns at the name. The Sara that he knows of is still a middle school student. He's better acquainted with her father, but even that isn't a close relationship. They're not so close that his mind jumps to assumptions despite knowing the surname. ]
Chidouin-san? I'm afraid I'm not familiar.
[ He gives Komaeda a dubious look. He doesn't like the idea of exposing his back to anyone, much less one he just met. ]
Wouldn't it be better for you to go first? You seem more familiar with the passage than I am.
OK FAIR YOU SHOULD BULLY HIM
[ He's sturdy enough to do more than budge a few inches from the unexpected touch at first, but by time the other is pushing on him it leaves him with two uncomfortable choices. He shiver beneath his touch. It's a pleasant feeling to have hands running down his back, but it's probably just the sudden coolness. He knows him, but as long as it's not mutual they might as well be strangers.
Perhaps he should walk it back before he makes the situation any more uncomfortable. ]
It would be untoward of me to equate you with someone simply because they had your name and face. I was a little out of sorts, I'm afraid... It is nonetheless a pleasure to meet you, Komaeda-kun. I look forward to working with you.
[ That's a little better for addressing a stranger, despite the awkward start and his current predicament. ]
STOPPP I'M CRYING THIS BULLYING!
[ He swallows, trying to hide the small sound that comes when his hands move to his hips, but Komaeda seems to be right, as it does have the effect of getting to move forward. His mouth goes dry, and he has to place a hand over his chest to avoid coming on too strong himself. It must be because he's familiar, but even so, Hiyori rarely has this kind of reaction to someone.
The mention of kidnapping earns a slight frown, and he's grateful for the distraction. He won't inquire about the details, as it's likely the least interesting part of the conversation for both of them. People act in such ways all the time. They'll even take someone close enough to mold them into who they miss. ]
Of course it does. It's only the blind and selfish who can't tell the difference between individuals simply because they share similarities. Even children will get upset if you try to replace their favorite toy with an identical one. If you craft the same item a hundred times, there were always be slight variations; if you live the same life a hundred times, you will always come out a different person.
[ Children grow attached to their favorite toy for the love that they put into ti and the way that they've personified it. Humans are even more irreplaceable, for their memories won't sync up with your own; their personality won't be the same for their lived experience. It's what makes ASUNARO's AIs so amazing. They're a person exactly as they should be, a perfect replication, and they can sync up with one's memories. ]
Still, it is hard to shake that fondness for a person, now isn't it?
PUTTING KOS' HANDS ALL OVER HIM
Yes, a little bit, but if you'll give me a little while I'm sure I can sort it out. You aren't the person I knew, but a stranger I happen to know a few things about. You have a different air about you than the Komaeda-kun I remember knowing before.
[ It's no different than how Hiyori has a different air than he might were he older. He is, in ways, more amicable than his older counterpart for having such a desire to appear so. He's a little more arrogant but a little less bitter for still never having had his role stripped from him. But he's no less perfect, nor is he any worse at sizing people up. Even now, it only takes a look and a few words for him to understand a person, with or without memories. He must have a bit more sense too, because he's young enough to don a fluffy ponytail rather than the rattail he would have adopted a year or two later. ]
Does it bother you? My memories are fuzzy, and so I can assure you that I don't remember anything in nature.
[ Which is to say that he's not carrying any of Komaeda's secrets. He's an honest person, but everyone has parts of themselves that they'd rather others not know about. ]
WHY IS HE TOUCHING HIM I'M CRYING
[ His voice is light and even playful, unbothered by the prospect of being unable to regain what was lost when there are so many better ways of doing so. Komaeda should know that well enough from interacting with their doll. He would know better than any other of their goals and wants, of how they should bive the world the ability to revive the dead and even love long lost.
That said, it's hard to ignore the hands on his hips, and he wonders if there aren't certain parts that he wouldn't mind having again, but it's nothing so deep as placing hopes in reviving a dead relationship. He must have experience with fools who wish for him to remain the same while their stimuli changes, and while the person with them changed in turn. Idiotic indeed - pathetic, even, though he wouldn't use that word so openly. He flashes a cheery smile over his shoulder.
He can't let himself be this distracted. Either way, it should be clear that he's trying to clear away any lingering tension. ]
Please don't worry. My hopes shall be squarely focused on the Komaeda-kun who stands before me.
NOT HE OWNS HIM ok true
He shakes his head as he glances around the room. It's an old school, but everything is in pristine condition. The generators powering it are in perfect condition, perhaps because students have no reason to go about destroying their only power source. ]
No, I haven't... I don't recall being able to access this place.
[ His memories are fuzzy and incomplete, with just little bits and pieces coming back to him, but he's almost certain that this place should be inaccessible. He watches Komaeda with care, as though trying to read his mind. ]
Might I ask what change you're referring to? I'm afraid that I don't understand.