[Checkmate. You're lying to bamboozle her into friendship. She's prepared for these dirty tactics.]
Wh-why don't you guess what my preferred genre is, since you're s-so obsessed with me?
[What's that though. She thought maybe the team leads would be immune to shitty effects like these, but apparently not. Her head tilts as she eyes up the text. Sense of self, is it? Literally, philosophically? Magically, maybe? He doesn't look obviously fantasy-like, not in the classical sense like Fjord and Yennefer. His quirky looks lend more to trashy anime and the like, so maybe it's something more absurd than it is Narnian or whatever.
God she hates it here. For now she keeps quiet about it, mulling the meaning over while watching him...whisk? flambe? what are we doing in here.]
Utopia, King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table, Pride and Prejudice, The Great Gatsby, and The Hobbit.
[ rattles those off immediately without even thinking. the nice thing is that he's been here long enough that he's gotten to read stuff that exists outside of his world. he's a big nerd!! he likes books for real!!
anyway, he's probably cutting up some vegetables. he's going to make a very warm and hearty soup. perhaps with potatoes and meat. he does pause for a second, tilting his head as he thinks. ]
[holy shit he does know five books. Not especially bad ones either. Maybe entry level into the classics, not the first fare she expects regular people to invest in but certainly not the most impressive. If that was what he was aiming for.
Then he also hammers her genre on the head. Fukawa flinches and scowls.]
So you've b-been talking to other p-people about me behind my back. [Who did she tell that to again? Fjord? Fjord your ass is grass.] W-well, now I know s-something about you too!
[Points to the lettering, which is on his back but no matter.]
It's sp-spelled out plain as day there! You're afraid of losing your sense of self.
[ he knows five books!! he knows more, too, but - she brings that up, and he falters. a long pause. ]
Well... no, I haven't been talking to people about you. I just guessed. You seem like you'd enjoy the challenge of solving a mystery because you're smart, and I think most people like romance because everybody wants to feel loved.
[ quiet, for a moment, as he adjusts his gloves. ]
Is that what my tattoo says? [ ... ] You're right, I am.
[Not before her time at Hope's Peak, where making light of gruesome murder had her stomach in knots (not to mention how hackneyed certain plot devices about the killers could be), and definitely not after. Solving real murders under the threat of execution had soured her utterly and forever on it. Agatha Christie may have had talent, but she could take that talent far away from Fukawa Toko.
She will not comment on romance. Especially now that she got a shot in and something has rattled all that phony affability.]
Why? Is y-your time running these sadistic torture games starting to unravel you?
Th-that's a shitty excuse for not having any self respect. Wh-what? You think you should be d-debased just because you're some kind of — ugh, manifestation of a human ego, or whatever? Give me a break.
Give up with that crap. You're here as yourself now, so take responsibility for it.
startles him?? he looks at her with his big stupid bug eyes. ]
... That's nice of you to say. [ well, nice for her, but. ] I don't want to be debased, you know. I just know that I can't stop people from being rude to me.
I'm not b-being nice! I'm just being practical! Shut up!
[GOD. this is a hateful experience.]
So you'll just p-put up with anything because you think you don't deserve any better and there's n-no point in having a spine. What, do you enjoy being abused?
Because you're making a mockery of the n-noble art of masochism if you don't.
I'm not really into masochism, no. Not with you. [ this is decidedly the wrong thing to say but he's being very sincere because he thinks this is a compliment, in a way ]
[i am going to be nice and not have her accuse him of being like the last man who said those literal words to her, who followed up with "I like them young. As young as possible."]
Euuugh! I wasn't propositioning you, if that's wh-what you're thinking!
[She holds her skull in pain.]
T-talking to any of you f-fruit-headed bozos drains my mental capacities by fifty percent. I can hear my b-brain cells taking their last gasps.
[Her expression clears. Not to blankness, but to a creeping apprehension. She looks down, slowly, and can't rightly read it at the angle but sees enough glow to know he's not, say, drawing from a personnel file and pretending it's off the cuff.
Her hands come together. Nails pressing into the palms of opposite hands, tugging at her fingers. There's a curl to her lip and a bitter note to her voice, but her eyes have flicked away from Will in full.]
S-so what if it is? People g-get together and squeeze out little brats all the time, n-no matter if they're in loving marriages or out of them. It's c-common. Who cares?
Who c-cares about wh-where or when anyone came from? What matters is what you do with your m-miserable life. If there's anyone that m-makes it a problem, it's the adults who r-refuse to take responsibility for their actions.
More words flash over her skin. Didn't deserve to survive.
Let them all die.
Unlovable bitch.
And finally, as if to stamp a final insult to injury:
Murderer.]
J-just be quiet. I don't want to h-hear that from people who d-don't know what they're talking about.
[There's an extra glint in her eye. Try as she may to blink it back, the tear escapes. Its wet run down her cheek makes her startle, clap a hand to it, gasping.
Fukawa turns on her heel and flees the kitchen.
Maybe another time, she'll be ready to listen. It's unbearable to hear those words from people she doesn't need it from, and never the ones she does.]
[ all of these make him so, so sad. and when she tears up - he opens his mouth to say something, but she flees.
he understands, he thinks. or he's trying to. and he knows it can make you feel fragile to let someone be this nice to you, so - he lets her go. but he's not done trying yet. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Oh, r-really? Name five books right now.
[Checkmate. You're lying to bamboozle her into friendship. She's prepared for these dirty tactics.]
Wh-why don't you guess what my preferred genre is, since you're s-so obsessed with me?
[What's that though. She thought maybe the team leads would be immune to shitty effects like these, but apparently not. Her head tilts as she eyes up the text. Sense of self, is it? Literally, philosophically? Magically, maybe? He doesn't look obviously fantasy-like, not in the classical sense like Fjord and Yennefer. His quirky looks lend more to trashy anime and the like, so maybe it's something more absurd than it is Narnian or whatever.
God she hates it here. For now she keeps quiet about it, mulling the meaning over while watching him...whisk? flambe? what are we doing in here.]
no subject
[ rattles those off immediately without even thinking. the nice thing is that he's been here long enough that he's gotten to read stuff that exists outside of his world. he's a big nerd!! he likes books for real!!
anyway, he's probably cutting up some vegetables. he's going to make a very warm and hearty soup. perhaps with potatoes and meat. he does pause for a second, tilting his head as he thinks. ]
Mystery, maybe? Or romance.
no subject
Then he also hammers her genre on the head. Fukawa flinches and scowls.]
So you've b-been talking to other p-people about me behind my back. [Who did she tell that to again? Fjord? Fjord your ass is grass.] W-well, now I know s-something about you too!
[Points to the lettering, which is on his back but no matter.]
It's sp-spelled out plain as day there! You're afraid of losing your sense of self.
no subject
Well... no, I haven't been talking to people about you. I just guessed. You seem like you'd enjoy the challenge of solving a mystery because you're smart, and I think most people like romance because everybody wants to feel loved.
[ quiet, for a moment, as he adjusts his gloves. ]
Is that what my tattoo says? [ ... ] You're right, I am.
no subject
[Not before her time at Hope's Peak, where making light of gruesome murder had her stomach in knots (not to mention how hackneyed certain plot devices about the killers could be), and definitely not after. Solving real murders under the threat of execution had soured her utterly and forever on it. Agatha Christie may have had talent, but she could take that talent far away from Fukawa Toko.
She will not comment on romance. Especially now that she got a shot in and something has rattled all that phony affability.]
Why? Is y-your time running these sadistic torture games starting to unravel you?
no subject
a sigh. ]
It's funny that we're talking about books. I'm the protagonist of one, in a sense. [ ... ] I don't think that I'm necessarily a person.
[ he glances at her, and sort of just... waits. go ahead, insult him some more, he's expecting it. ]
no subject
except not because she's really not getting this. Flatly:]
What.
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I'm just part of a person. That's the best way I can explain it. [ ... ] So. I suppose I'm afraid of losing myself to the rest of the person.
no subject
[you need to be talking to one of the neverafters not her. She rubs her temple.]
S-so are you saying you're just some s-sort of part of another person made flesh and blood? Like they just plucked you out of s-someone's head?
no subject
I'm made of magic. [ ... ] So really, that works for you! You can say whatever you want to me, because I'm not real.
no subject
Th-that's a shitty excuse for not having any self respect. Wh-what? You think you should be d-debased just because you're some kind of — ugh, manifestation of a human ego, or whatever? Give me a break.
Give up with that crap. You're here as yourself now, so take responsibility for it.
no subject
startles him?? he looks at her with his big stupid bug eyes. ]
... That's nice of you to say. [ well, nice for her, but. ] I don't want to be debased, you know. I just know that I can't stop people from being rude to me.
no subject
I'm not b-being nice! I'm just being practical! Shut up!
[GOD. this is a hateful experience.]
So you'll just p-put up with anything because you think you don't deserve any better and there's n-no point in having a spine. What, do you enjoy being abused?
Because you're making a mockery of the n-noble art of masochism if you don't.
no subject
I'm not really into masochism, no. Not with you. [ this is decidedly the wrong thing to say but he's being very sincere because he thinks this is a compliment, in a way ]
cw pedo mention....
Euuugh! I wasn't propositioning you, if that's wh-what you're thinking!
[She holds her skull in pain.]
T-talking to any of you f-fruit-headed bozos drains my mental capacities by fifty percent. I can hear my b-brain cells taking their last gasps.
no subject
I didn't think you were...
[ he uses this icon a lot with her, i think. ]
You'd use less brain cells if you didn't spend all your time trying to take everything I say in the worst possible interpretation.
no subject
It d-doesn't take extra brain power for me to s-see right through you and your insidious plots...
[SCOWLING. angry.
And then there's a line of text sprawling across her collarbone.
Bastard Child.]
no subject
though - he does catch that, tilting his head. ]
... Is that literal? [ fair play, he thinks. ] It says Bastard Child.
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Her hands come together. Nails pressing into the palms of opposite hands, tugging at her fingers. There's a curl to her lip and a bitter note to her voice, but her eyes have flicked away from Will in full.]
S-so what if it is? People g-get together and squeeze out little brats all the time, n-no matter if they're in loving marriages or out of them. It's c-common. Who cares?
no subject
It is pretty common. The person I'm based on is one, too. [ ... ] It bothers you, though. I'm sorry that it does.
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[she scoffs.]
Who c-cares about wh-where or when anyone came from? What matters is what you do with your m-miserable life. If there's anyone that m-makes it a problem, it's the adults who r-refuse to take responsibility for their actions.
[The letters warp.
They wished you had died.]
no subject
... I think you're right. It does matter what you do with your life. How you were born is irrelevant, but. [ softer, genuine: ]
I'm glad you're still around. I'm glad that you're alive.
no subject
[her lip quivers.
More words flash over her skin. Didn't deserve to survive.
Let them all die.
Unlovable bitch.
And finally, as if to stamp a final insult to injury:
Murderer.]
J-just be quiet. I don't want to h-hear that from people who d-don't know what they're talking about.
[There's an extra glint in her eye. Try as she may to blink it back, the tear escapes. Its wet run down her cheek makes her startle, clap a hand to it, gasping.
Fukawa turns on her heel and flees the kitchen.
Maybe another time, she'll be ready to listen. It's unbearable to hear those words from people she doesn't need it from, and never the ones she does.]
no subject
he understands, he thinks. or he's trying to. and he knows it can make you feel fragile to let someone be this nice to you, so - he lets her go. but he's not done trying yet. ]