INBOX

[vitainmorte]

Hello, this is Cypress. If you leave me a message I will get back to you as quickly as possible.

Thank you, have a good day.

Comments

[vitainmorte]

[ a pause. ]

... is it okay...?

[mourningson]

If your presence bothers any unitmates who bear witness, they can deal with my ire. They will purchase entire rooms for people who are not even on our unit.

[vitainmorte]

Oh-- no, I just... I don't want to embarrass you, by being here, or anything...

[ she'll come over to him, though, after a moment's hesitation. ]

[mourningson]

Don't bother worrying about that.

[heads out the door, through the hall and to the kitchen:

• it's an extension of the common area's bar, so same dark jazz club style
• there's a gas burner range
• and both a refrigerator and a freezer, designed to look like 1920s ice boxes.
• there are a couple liquor cabinets, too!
• haha surprise, one of them is actually a microwave

he makes himself busy looking through the fridge while finagling with an order on his phone]

[vitainmorte]

[ ohh...

she follows him in, but hovers mostly out of the way, looking a little lost as he makes his way around. ]

Is... there anything I can help with? I-- can't really cook, but.

[mourningson]

Can you chop vegetables?

[vitainmorte]

I can try...?

[ surely she's watched chrys enough times to understand the method. but she comes over to join him. ]

[mourningson]

[he's pulled out a knife and a cutting board for her]

I hope so—it'll preoccupy you enough to keep me from asking questions about Sashay. I wouldn't want to disrupt someone hard at work, after all.

[vitainmorte]

[ taking them to gently set on the counter, but looking up at him again, lightly pink. ]

... of course you're free to ask anything about Silfda and me. I don't have anything to hide.

[ also you like, have Feelings Detection Powers, you know ]

[mourningson]

[why use unit abilities when i could use Direct Questioning]

Perhaps I will. Just one moment—

[he leaves then returns with a bag of ordered ingredients—including some carrots, celery, and onion, which he sets on the counter by her]

What do you think of them?

[vitainmorte]

[ stares at them for a moment before... picking up the celery... this looks easy to cut ]

The vegetables? Or Silfda?

[mourningson]

...





Sashay.

[vitainmorte]

[ has she been using the wrong pronouns this whole time

pauses at that, a bit flustered, but. starts pulling the celery hearts apart. ]

Sh-- they're... well.

... they're a noisy and abrasive person, excitable and brash, and at first glance seemingly arrogant to a fault and too free with their feelings, with a barely hidden bloodlust.

But having known them almost since I've arrived here... I think much of that is... a product of how they've lived, and the place they occupy in their world. I know they've lived a long time-- much longer than me-- and have had many more worse experiences, and-- were purposely antagonistic to me, at times. ... but I never considered them a liar. I think that despite the fact that they've been hurt over and over again, they still have the ability to care for others. And for some reason I can't understand, maybe I'm one of them.

... I feel as if-- because of how I have been raised back home, and the things I may have experienced, that I'm not supposed to be close to them. But I enjoy their company anyway.

[mourningson]

[while pouring oil into a pot]

How do you feel about them liking you?

[vitainmorte]

[ starts cutting, slowly; her hand on the knife isn't all that great, and her cuts are awkward and uneven, but she's going slow enough for it not to matter much. ]

... I don't... know? It's... nice. To be important to someone. I don't think I'm all that important to them, but it's nice to be told it.

... part of me doesn't really believe it, though. I don't think I'm a very likeable person. So when people say nice things...

[ she shrugs, weakly ]

[mourningson]

You're a likeable person.

[vitainmorte]

...

I hope you still feel that way, in the future. I want to believe you think so.

[mourningson]

I do now, and will continue to do so.

[huffs, tossing some beef he's seasoned into the pot]

What about yourself do you find unlikeable in the first place?

[vitainmorte]

...

[ uneasy, definitely, and hesitantly says, ]

I'm sorry-- um. How do you know Silfda, Sunny?

[mourningson]

They approached me when I first arrived, and ever since then they have been a... presence. They play that mobile game quite often, too.

[vitainmorte]

That's true.

Do you dislike them...?

[mourningson]

[hums]

They're a bother. Asserting love, acting like they have me figured out...

[vitainmorte]

... do you hate it, when I say things about you I feel are true?

[mourningson]

...you're different.

[vitainmorte]

...

[ reaches out to gently touch his arm, briefly, before turning away again with red cheeks to finish chopping the celery ]