granpulse | ( cmo ) general rp

[The desperation in Vanille's tone draws Fang's gaze back to her, eyes slightly widened and brow twisted upward. For a long moment, her expression's something of sorrow and yearning and regret—almost vulnerable. She knows she's hurt Vanille, however inadvertently. That doesn't excuse it, and Fang wants to make it right.]

[She doesn't know if she's strong enough to make that promise. Fang's impulsive and passionate, exceptionally so when those she cares about are involved. If she gave her word on that, it'd be well within Vanille's right to hold it to her, and all the worse for when that fragile promise shatters.]

[But Fang knows what it's like now, doesn't she? An action that Vanille's yet to commit to, and one that nearly destroyed Fang. It consumed her every day of their separation, and still sometimes in this displaced world and time. It never occurred to her, before now, that Vanille would be experiencing that exact same thing every time Fang screwed up.]

[Like now. Fang wants nothing more than to step forward and encircle the younger gargoyle in her arms, as if she could make the world and the horrors fall away, and apologize. Hesitation stops her; would Vanille welcome that gesture, after dealing with the constantly escalating jealously and obsessive protection that thing created in Fang?]

[All of the other mutations and ailments might have fallen away, but Fang still ran too hot, even for a gargoyle; either some kind of physiological scar, or a terrifying warning that it would return. So instead, Fang breaks eye contact after a too-long moment of looking torn, casting her gaze aside to the floor.]

[She scratches the back of her neck anxiously with a scaled knuckle.] Yeah, okay. [Too quietly. Fang takes a breath, then affirms strongly,] I'll do everything I can.

[Vanille sees it in Fang's body language, however subtle it may be. she's long since learned and become familiar with the older Pulsian's movements and the meanings behind them—how closed fists resting at her sides means stubbornness, how abruptly turning her head to the side means annoyance, how grabbing the side of her arm means discomfort, how opening her stance means ease.

the way Fang begins the motions to move toward her, pauses, and ultimately remains where she is is more than telling to Vanille.

she knows she cannot blame Fang, but to know whatever it was that had possessed the other woman had changed her to this state of walking on eggshells scares her to her core. to know that in this state, they cannot find comfort in each other's arms...

she hates it.

at the very least, the familiar confidence in Fang's attempt at reassurance brings a strange sort of contentment to Vanille. it's enough to at least get her to respond, however dissonant the mixture of old memories and recent events is. her voice cracking as she begins, she squeaks out,]

You can't keep facing these things on your own, Fang. You know that, right? We—we're supposed to do these things. ["suffer."] Together. Right?

[Just as Vanille hates the hesitation and caution between them, so Fang loathes the dismay and trepidation in the younger gargoyle's voice. It tugs at her heart like a call, urges her to step forward, and Fang can't resist that want anymore.]

[It is a careful step; then another, and another, until the distance was closed. Fang wanted to run forward, to cling to her partner, but after a month of treating Vanille like a prisoner "for her own good," or something too fragile for the world, Fang needed to make it clear that Vanille had a choice; that Fang would stop at the smallest sign if her space or freedom felt threatened.]

[Ever since they were young, Fang walked a very fine line between protecting Vanille and seeking her companionship and aid. Now, Fang didn't know where that line was anymore; how could she accept Vanille's help when she needed it most when Fang could no longer keep either of them safe from the dangers they faced? They shouldn't need to suffer together, or at all.]

Yeah. Shouldn't even come to that—goin' it alone, I mean. Nothing I do ever seems to go right anymore, and you always end up hurtin' for it. [And tentatively, the taller gargoyle raises an open hand. The gesture hovers just short of her partner's cheek, silently asking—pleading—if it was alright.] Sorry.

[the raw emotion in Fang's voice and movements jabs at Vanille's heart, and try as she might to stop it, she cannot resist the tears beginning to flow when Fang apologizes. when Fang's hand stops right before resting on her face, her body temperature suddenly rises, literal fire forming in her eyes. she unfurls her wings to beat them a couple of times, hissing as she chokes back sobs before she screeches,]

I need more than just a "sorry," Fang! I need you to mean it! I can't—I can't take the empty promises anymore! I can't see your damn dead body anymore!

[and then, she stops as she shrinks back. the sudden outburst shocks even her, and for a second, Vanille is frozen in place, eyes wet and wide. she quickly brings her hands to cover her mouth, heart beating out of her chest.]

Oh my god. I... I'm sorry. That was uncalled for.

[To her credit, Fang doesn't flinch; however, she does lower her hand and look away.]

[Silence, for a beat.] No. I had that coming.

[This is too familiar. A horrible, ironic flashback with their positions reversed, Vanille throwing the fit over the other's carelessness instead of Fang—a parallel that makes her gut twist with the hopelessness of it all repeating again. Fang didn't know if she could deal with one of them storming off again to god knows where for god knows how long.]

[No. Fang would deal with it, as many times as she needed to, no matter how it wounded her. If this was some kind of cosmic justice for her actions in the Cathedral, so be it. Her good intentions weren't enough anymore—they never were in the first place. She couldn't keep stringing Vanille along with her hellish life choices.]

...I don't know what to do, Vanille. I—[Her voice is quiet, and Fang's completely still, even where her tail would usually be flicking in idle motions. There was a notable lack of fight and frustration in her voice; she's too sick for this right now. The revival illness and the ordeal with the parasites and her guilt and emotional turmoil was too much to handle all at once, especially after that last blow.] I don't feel well.

[And Fang turned, trudging over to the bed to sit with a sluggishness that spoke more to her actual age. She'll get back up from this whole episode; Fang always did. This time... It was just going to take a little longer to get back on her feet.]

[She couldn't apologize. She couldn't promise to do better. What should she say to Vanille?]

Edited (consistency ) 2016-12-08 22:34 (UTC)

[it's strange, almost, to see Fang in such a passive state. Vanille can almost see herself reflected in Fang's dejected response, because it's a scenario she's been in countless times. how many nights has Fang held her, been patient with her after she'd done something stupid? she should know, better than anyone, what it's like to be in Fang's position.

it shouldn't piss her off the way it does.

this time, though, Vanille catches the offending thought before it has a chance to slip out, looking as though the very thought has physically wounded her. once again, she clamps her hand over her mouth, digging her claws into the side of her cheek as if it will help prevent another outburst.

"where are these feelings coming from?" she thinks in a panic. these thoughts are not her... or are they? true anger is something she reserves for only the most extreme situations; she knows—she's known, given how long she's been in the peninsula—that the monstrous transformation changes people beyond their appearances... but could they cause such a reversal of her own personality, to the point where she's beginning to think she might detest some parts of her partner?

... there are too many things, too many emotions going through her head for her to even think she can approach this rationally. timidly, she offers,]

Do you need anything? [beat.] I can go, I'm sure I can spend some time with Riku or Noel or someone else if you... if you need the space.

[again, resorting to a copout—running away. classic Vanille. that part, at least, has stayed with her. even though they've both progressed with their changes, calming some of Vanille's more violent monstrous thoughts... they're almost back to square one.

like back then, perhaps she says it for her own good, moreso than Fang's.]

[Fang's exhausted expression flashes suddenly into pure frustration. Her lips twitch upward a few times as she grits her teeth and fights the urge to bare them and growl, directing her ire and uncertainty at some invisible enemy in the floorboards instead.]

[That was the last thing Fang needed to hear, the words picking at an ugly, scabbed wound instead of the fresh one. Even after everything, and just like always, Vanille was still unintentionally picking others over Fang: herself, the innocent, the dead... and for some reason, it's the mention of Noel hurts her the most, that sparks her roiling emotions into a blaze.]

Yeah, sure, space is exactly what I need—more time to think about every way this damned place's made me miserable, while you go spend time with someone that's less difficult and broken; maybe the guy that almost tore your leg off!

[It started sarcastic, but by the end, her voice had spiraled into something wounded and raw. That one little push, and Fang's cracking around the edges despite her damnedest efforts to hold it together in the face of Ryslig's trials. She needed Vanille's presence and support, now more than any other time since washing up on the peninsula's shores, and she wanted to run out?]

[She was sick and tired of being alone. Community and companionship were too vital to Fang.]

[this time, she is not startled by Fang's response. in fact, it serves only to further fan the burning rage that's been building within her. being yelled at when, in her mind, she'd only been trying to help has broken the calm she'd tried to maintain.

she finds herself stomping down hard, balling her fists at her side; she's not sure if it's a conscious decision or an unconscious reaction. luckily the stone floor of their residence is tough (it'd be foolish to have two gargoyles living in a wooden apartment), but there's a noticeable indent in the shape of her taloned foot now imprinted on its surface.]

That's not what I meant—you know that's not it! At least he's not going to blow up at me for trying to show some kindness! [she then angrily throws her arms out, claws now bared. it doesn't occur to her how defensive and passive aggressive she sounds.] What am I supposed to do when you're sending me these mixed signals? Do I comfort you, even if you don't want me here? Do you want to be left alone, even though you don't want me to leave? I can't read your mind—[despite how close and connected they've always been; has Ryslig changed even that, too?]—you need to tell me, Fang!

[she fails to realize the irony in this argument, where she's not exactly the poster child for being straightforward with her own feelings, nor is she innocent of being selfish.

she also neglects to notice how naturally this outrage is coming to her, rather than breaking her heart.]

Don't want you here? [She spits back incredulously, looking back up at Vanille and her hostile posture. The notion went so strongly against everything Fang did and felt that she was offended by the very thought.]

Why the hell wouldn't I want you here? [The bewildered tone remained, and Fang gestured vaguely with her hands, still shocked Vanille came to that thought.] When have I not? After all we've been through, and you've got in your head that I don't want you here? What happened to "everything'll be alright as long as we're together?" Everything I do is to keep it that way, and yet here you are, chewin' me out since I walked in, and throwin' a tantrum because I'm not happy with you running from me again!

[where the old Vanille would have been struck vulnerable by Fang's latest rebuttal, the one currently spurred on by her inhuman rage remains fierce, almost offended herself.]

Haven't you gotten it through your thick skull that I've been doing everything in my power to keep you safe? While you just keep going out on your own, thinking you could take down the gods the same way we took down the fal'Cie? It's not the same here, and seeing your corpse was proof!

[her wings flare up again, with a single, powerful flap, and she suddenly closes the distance between them and digs her claws into Fang's shoulder. they don't quite pierce her partner's skin, but the red marks they leave regardless will probably be visible for a couple of days. intense heat radiates off her skin and scales, her teeth viciously bared as she hisses,]

Do you realize how hard it was for me to leave you alone when you first came here? How damn difficult it was to deal with these feelings of... of wanting to protect you from how terrible this place is while wanting to crush your skull and eat you in the same second? I wanted to kill you, Fang, what do you think that's done to me?!

[Fang's hand flashes out behind her to brace against the wall; it's the only thing that keeps her sitting upright in face of Vanille's charge. She can feel the gouges forming in her scales under the other gargoyle's claws, threatening to split. Her tail lashes once over the bed indignantly; Fang's too worked up to be conscious of the alien swell of wounded pride, and she sits straighter, despite Vanille looming over her with claws hooked in her scales.]

So, what, you want me to roll over and accept it? What the gods did to all of us—what they did to you? You want me to settle for this? Never feeling the sun again and watchin' you tear yourself apart every time you've got to go eat?

Like hell. Because guess what? We're all disgusted with ourselves—the things we've enjoyed and the wants we've got. [She glares up into her partner's now-golden eyes, unflinchingly—defiantly. There's a beat before her lips curl into a scowl, just a sliver of teeth bared, and one last thing boils out of her throat.] You and your little martyr act've got no right to lecture me about keepin' me safe.

[There's forgiveness in death. Let's die for Cocoon and let the cycle perpetuate. I'll sacrifice myself to soothe the damned. No, Vanille had no right to complain about Fang's recklessness, not when her own guilt was the greatest danger to her.]

Edited 2017-04-02 19:59 (UTC)

[if fang hadn't made that last comment, maybe there wouldn't be burning bile scorching vanille's throat, causing a hiss to escape. it's not that the statement is false—no, it's definitely the truth that vanille hates facing—it's the scornful tone fang uses that gets a rise out of her. another wave of heat rolls off the younger pulsian's skin, fueled by her anger; if the two of them weren't gargoyles, they might have passed out.

grinding her sharpened fangs, her claws dig deeper under her partner's scales, now actively seeking blood.]

Is that what you think of me? Do you think I like making the sacrifices I've made—that I keep making?

[even in addressing her own self-awareness, she fails to get at the meat of what fang is pointing out, that she's unintentionally making it about her.]

[If the two of them weren't gargoyles, there might not have even been an argument. They've lived in close proximity long enough to know when to talk about things and what to ignore to keep the peace between them, but this new, tender pride of theirs wasn't something they knew how to dance about yet.]

[Fang isn't well enough to not flinch, her blood hissing and bubbling out from under Vanille's claws like hot water under pressure. A deep, bestial growl rumbles out of her chest as she looks back up at her partner, wings flexing and tail lashing once more.] You know damn well that isn't it!

[The taller gargoyle starts to move and say something else before she flinches again at the claws curled into her flesh. She growls again and grabs at Vanille's left wrist with her free hand in an attempt to yank her claws free.] Enough of that.

[at fang's touch, vanille lets go, but doesn't bother taking care to avoid grazing fang's arm with a final rake of her claws. the resulting swelling of her partner's flesh does not faze her, like it would had tensions not been so high. in fact, something unfamiliar swells in her chest as she gazes upon the ugly red marks among the scales, knowing that she is the one who caused them.

oerba dia vanille has never known pride like this before.

inside her mind, what remains of her humanity comes to blows with the vicious and prideful personality she's begun to develop. on one side, she wants to throw herself at fang's feet in repentance, the reaction she is most used to (even though that may infuriate fang further); on the other, she wants to walk away with her face twisted in a mix of smugness and disgust (which may be just as incendiary as the former).

... she opts to just remain where she is, her eyes lingering on fang's before she turns her head away.]

I can't believe you, Fang.

[She bites back a hiss at the burning lines along her forearm, but the blood boiling and sputtering out of the wounds do that for her. Those five words hurt more than her partner's claws, and she couldn't even say why—it wasn't even close to the most harmful thing said in this exchange. That kind of disappointed scorn picked at her regrets, reminded her how ashamed she's been about her recent behavior, and she couldn't stop herself from feeling indignant in response. Fang initially resists the urge to stand up, to tower over Vanille, to accuse her of doing this on purpose—then yields to it, surging to her feet.]

[Which proved to be a bit of a mistake, standing up too quickly in her condition. Spots swarm her vision and Fang's balance jerks to the side, but she manages to remain on her feet and quickly draws up to her full height. That swirling nausea in her gut steals the edge from her anger, even if it adds to her frustrations.]

What, then? Go on, spit it out. You've clearly got all the answers. What do you want to do, Vanille?

[the provoked anger in fang's reaction does nothing to quell vanille's own. in fact, it may perhaps ignite it further. vanille beats her wings again, forcefully whipping up a gust of air in the small apartment even in spite of fang's unsteadiness.]

What I want? What I want is for the both of us to stay alive, you idiot! [spittle forms at the corners of her mouth, her fangs bared.] Did something about dying mess you up in the head, make you forget about the important things?

[this bile, this resentment does not feel like her own voice talking. in the back of her mind, it's as if something has taken control of her body, speaking these words that she would never say with her mouth. but at the same time... are these feelings she's actually been having, when she's just been too weak or scared to voice them before?

she honestly cannot tell the difference anymore, but whatever the case, she stands her ground opposite of her partner.]

[Fang can't help flinching as the weight of her shame and regret are brought down on her head again, and she knows that flinch was a mistake. It gave Vanille more ground in this argument, let her know Fang knew she had a point. She bares her teeth in a defensive snarl before she could stop herself, too emotional to temper her reactions right now.]

[And then it sinks in.]

[What I want is for the both of us to stay alive, you idiot!]

[Her chest starts rising and falling quickly as her breathing becomes rapid, a new kind of anger bubbling up within her—something scared and frustrated and betrayed and desperate, and flames curl unintentionally on every breath.]

[Fang couldn't take it anymore. That wound is too raw.]

[She breaks.]

You have no RIGHT to say that! [The taller woman roughly shoves Vanille back as she screams those words. Her balance wavers and threatens to buckle, but Fang presses on and forward, that agonized desperation clear in her face.]

What happened to all those noble sacrifices YOU wanted to make, huh?! [A step forward, another shove.] What about turnin' Cie'th to protect poor Cocoon?! What about dying to atone for your sins?! What about doin' everything to you could to apologize to the dead—[It's here that Fang's voice breaks into something ugly and rough and tormented]—no matter how it left me behind?!

[She'd be on the verge of tears if her gargoyle body wouldn't immediately burn them away.]

[fang's push surprises vanille, causing her to stumble back into the wall. she hisses when her body makes impact against the concrete, and downright snarls as she regains her footing.

the confusion caused by accusations of events vanille has yet to experience for herself angers her even more. yes, they have established that their timelines are slightly askew... but they've never really resolved what that meant for either of them. the tension in the room right now really doesn't help to quell things.

it's probably a good thing that they had moved from vanille's old wooden shack after fang had turned, because it definitely wouldn't have survived with two fired up—literally—gargoyles. she surges forward, propelled by her wings, then sinks her claws into fang's shoulder... right above her old brand. there is literal fire in vanille's eyes as she almost roars,]

I haven't made those decisions yet! Have you forgotten that the world's moved on without me while I've been stuck in this living hell?!

[her grip on fang's shoulder tightens.]

Besides... besides, we were responsible for all those deaths, and we're still responsible for them now! If this really is how I reacted in the future, why didn't you stay by my side?!

( cmo ) general rp

sorry tl;dr alert

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forgive me my love

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aaaand then whiplash

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