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op2024
Noctis
Anarion
wintersoldier
Thanqol
TokyoPewPew
Damycles
KawaiiOtakuGirl
Tatterdemalion"I... I thought that..."
Eclair's head hangs low. Her ears are crushed flat by the weight that has followed the two of them into the room, and that same unbearable pressure keeps her tail flopped limp against the floor where she sits. She pushes forward, but only enough to lift her back and her head up to the point where she can pound them against the door in a long, slow loop.
She is like a statue teetering on the edge of collapse. She dare not try to be anything more, lest whatever she becomes try to kiss Mayzie across her lips. Whether born from pain or pleasure, the beauty radiating from her first (and it might still be said only real) friend is astonishing. It catches Eclair like a series of hooks bit into her ribs. But the one thing she must not do is give in. She has already broken an oath not to force Mayzie to look at her. If she kissed her on top of that it would be shame worthy of permanent exile to the Outside, there to lose herself and slowly take whatever shape she would. Or to stubbornly cling to herself and merely watch the world bend around her, instead, like a god inside of a glass bottle.
She shudders.
"The only thing I wanted was to allow for your happiness, Mayzie. I wished for you to leave and see the world, like you might have if I'd had the strength to come for you when I ran away. I wanted to thank you for your help, both in the past and with my present investigation. I wanted, I wished, I thought that... I did not want you burning your life on labor you so obviously despised. So far removed from your passions. Whether you, I, if, I..."
Eclair rises off the floor, though it feels like pushing all of Thellamie out from under her at once. She crosses the room with caution and closed eyes, not daring a single glance in Mayzie's direction, until she has reached the pedestal where her dress and armor sit in waiting. As she had once instructed Mayzie to do, she reaches forward and carefully brushes her palm against the shoulder, and feels the warmth and weight of it replacing her silly and pointless costume.
She stands once more Eclair Espoir, the Violet Flash. Investigative Maid-Knight of the Aurora. She grabs a brush from her bedside and carefully strokes her hair back into a position worthy of that name and distinction. And now that she is so armored, she watches Mayzie all the while.
"Had you become enamored of Kel, or Crevas, or Aestival and merely settled down into a new life I would have counted it as a small blessing. The meanest good deed my appropriation of Order funds might have accomplished, but the only gesture I could have managed that would both express my feelings and keep my promise to never trouble you again. Only, I..."
She feels her gauntlets groaning against her skin when she balls them into fists.
"I had assumed. Having seen you. That your heart was all for Vespergift. It made me hope, selfishly I admit, that if I could realize your ambitions as a dressmaker, that it, that you... would have put color in those streets. Would have brought eyes and bodies there for reasons that had nothing to do with Heron's damnable bath house. I am a Maid, Mayzie. I can only clean messes, or perform what chores are given to me. A ruined city is beyond my power to heal. But I thought, maybe, that the smartest woman I have ever met might manage better. If I could only free her to move as she would."
Eclair places her hand at her hip and pulls her sword free. No heartblade, this. Nothing of love or vulnerability or intimacy in this flat piece of cold steel. Those all belong to her eyes, which are wet past the point of sight.
"I hadn't counted on you hating me so much you would just throw it in the trash. I am sorry, Mayzie. The failure belongs to me once again. Please. Please tell me where the money has gotten to. I have to fix this. It is..."
A matter of honor? She can't explain that. Not to someone who looks at the Black and White and only sees betrayal. If the apology will not come, if no forfeit will ever be offered from those stubborn lips, then one must be seized instead. The blow must fall, whatever hand must swing it.
And so it does.
The blade crunches against her plate when she turns and smashes it against her ribs. The power of Light that is her main defense against the evils of the world has no power against her own crude attack, and the much thicker metal of the sword wins easily against the slender working of maid-knight armor. Eclair winces, and drops back down to her knees. Hiding the spot where small patters of blood have leaked onto the floor.
Eclair's head hangs low. Her ears are crushed flat by the weight that has followed the two of them into the room, and that same unbearable pressure keeps her tail flopped limp against the floor where she sits. She pushes forward, but only enough to lift her back and her head up to the point where she can pound them against the door in a long, slow loop.
She is like a statue teetering on the edge of collapse. She dare not try to be anything more, lest whatever she becomes try to kiss Mayzie across her lips. Whether born from pain or pleasure, the beauty radiating from her first (and it might still be said only real) friend is astonishing. It catches Eclair like a series of hooks bit into her ribs. But the one thing she must not do is give in. She has already broken an oath not to force Mayzie to look at her. If she kissed her on top of that it would be shame worthy of permanent exile to the Outside, there to lose herself and slowly take whatever shape she would. Or to stubbornly cling to herself and merely watch the world bend around her, instead, like a god inside of a glass bottle.
She shudders.
"The only thing I wanted was to allow for your happiness, Mayzie. I wished for you to leave and see the world, like you might have if I'd had the strength to come for you when I ran away. I wanted to thank you for your help, both in the past and with my present investigation. I wanted, I wished, I thought that... I did not want you burning your life on labor you so obviously despised. So far removed from your passions. Whether you, I, if, I..."
Eclair rises off the floor, though it feels like pushing all of Thellamie out from under her at once. She crosses the room with caution and closed eyes, not daring a single glance in Mayzie's direction, until she has reached the pedestal where her dress and armor sit in waiting. As she had once instructed Mayzie to do, she reaches forward and carefully brushes her palm against the shoulder, and feels the warmth and weight of it replacing her silly and pointless costume.
She stands once more Eclair Espoir, the Violet Flash. Investigative Maid-Knight of the Aurora. She grabs a brush from her bedside and carefully strokes her hair back into a position worthy of that name and distinction. And now that she is so armored, she watches Mayzie all the while.
"Had you become enamored of Kel, or Crevas, or Aestival and merely settled down into a new life I would have counted it as a small blessing. The meanest good deed my appropriation of Order funds might have accomplished, but the only gesture I could have managed that would both express my feelings and keep my promise to never trouble you again. Only, I..."
She feels her gauntlets groaning against her skin when she balls them into fists.
"I had assumed. Having seen you. That your heart was all for Vespergift. It made me hope, selfishly I admit, that if I could realize your ambitions as a dressmaker, that it, that you... would have put color in those streets. Would have brought eyes and bodies there for reasons that had nothing to do with Heron's damnable bath house. I am a Maid, Mayzie. I can only clean messes, or perform what chores are given to me. A ruined city is beyond my power to heal. But I thought, maybe, that the smartest woman I have ever met might manage better. If I could only free her to move as she would."
Eclair places her hand at her hip and pulls her sword free. No heartblade, this. Nothing of love or vulnerability or intimacy in this flat piece of cold steel. Those all belong to her eyes, which are wet past the point of sight.
"I hadn't counted on you hating me so much you would just throw it in the trash. I am sorry, Mayzie. The failure belongs to me once again. Please. Please tell me where the money has gotten to. I have to fix this. It is..."
A matter of honor? She can't explain that. Not to someone who looks at the Black and White and only sees betrayal. If the apology will not come, if no forfeit will ever be offered from those stubborn lips, then one must be seized instead. The blow must fall, whatever hand must swing it.
And so it does.
The blade crunches against her plate when she turns and smashes it against her ribs. The power of Light that is her main defense against the evils of the world has no power against her own crude attack, and the much thicker metal of the sword wins easily against the slender working of maid-knight armor. Eclair winces, and drops back down to her knees. Hiding the spot where small patters of blood have leaked onto the floor.