...You are kind. But I can look after myself. I do not need...looking after. I am not helpless.
[ As sincere as his words are, they only compound her shame. If there's resentment, it too is directed inward. She brought this show of pity on herself. He compares it to how his friends helped him, but she cannot see it as the same. No matter their conflict, or what crimes he committed, she is the reason for all of it. As far as she knows, she's the reason the Im'mari followed them here.
It is what she knew on Earth, after all. Dark things have always sought out the Evil in her.
Perhaps he does understand her situation better than most in Etraya, but that's only because she hasn't allowed anyone still here to try and understand what she is. Even Constantine and Muriel know only that she is connected to something supernatural, to something dark, and that was before the Im'mari got its tentacles around her.
Though not many, some have tried to contact her since her crimes against Etraya. She could have reached back out, to face what she had done, to accept penance or even help. She isn't afraid of consequences, but perhaps she fears forgiveness, especially that she hasn't earned. And what does any of it mean, when the one who matters the most is gone because of what she is? When faith has died with her dreams?
Gorgug understands more than others, and yet he knows so little. He may be kind enough to forgive, but he could never accept the truth. Not even the King of Nightmares could, until it was too late. ]
I have never known a thing such as normal, and never would I think to. You ought to still blame me. You must. You cannot trust me, Gorgug. I only ever bring catastrophe. I accept this now, and so too should you.
[ With a furrowed brow and clutched hands, her gaze drifts up from the bags at his feet to stare at him. Unshed tears sting at her eyes, but the frustration keeps them at bay. ]
That being did not change me into something else. It only helped me understand the truth of what I have always been.
[ No one likes a person who acts like they know someone better than themselves, and so Gorgug won't protest. He has no means to do so, really: they don't know each other well, and while there's moments of consideration for others that make up Vanessa's character for the parts of it he's seen--true, one that might've been faked to trick him into visiting her--, what can he say for her history?
She believes it. Gorgug will accept it as well. He could be walking into the same situation he just got out of, but he also doesn't want to turn back. Either out of stupidity, or some trace of how he felt about her under the Im'mari's influence.
Or because he wouldn't feel good to leave her when she looks like this. ]
Okay, [ he says slowly, his head tipped forward. ] If you're going to bring trouble, ignoring you isn't going to help anyone when that happens... and I still want to make sure you have enough food and stuff, if you haven't been in the mood to go out.
[ Is it wrong to be honest now? That he wants to know she's getting what she needs, even in the face of her concerns and potential dangers. Gorgug stands, quiet, never good at this, a small pause before: ]
...so I'd still like to visit you, now and then. And I can study you, so you know I'm taking you seriously. [ He looks up, over at Vanessa. ] Just enough to know where your powers come from. So I can help everyone stop you if something happens again.
[ The corner of her lips twitches into something nearing a smirk, though there's a softness to her look as she considers his words. That word—study—has her naturally wanting to draw away, but he couldn't understand why. What does matter is that he is acknowledging her words without condemning them. You are better than that, he could say, as Morpheus kept saying, and it's the last thing she wants to hear.
This is a level of acceptance that she can live with, and perhaps the most she can ever hope for. To acknowledge her darkness without condemnation, even if there is no way to love it.
Folding her arms, her eyes slip shut for just a moment, sniffling through unshed tears while struggling to keep the minimal composure she has left...if there is any to be found. ]
Even when supposedly not yourself, you concerned yourself over my state.
[ And it seems it wasn't merely because he was under thrall. Even at his worst, there was still a goodness motivating him to care for someone, whether or not selfish reasons were present. Vanessa doesn't wish for him to lose that part of his soul, and so she resists the urge to deny his offer of help.
Perhaps he deserves to know more, but that will also mean he should know why she is not a thing to be studied.
Her sigh is a wavering breath before she opens her eyes again, and glances back to the bags. No matter what comes next, she should not keep him standing in the entryway. ]
[ He's not keeping her eyes entirely on Vanessa, but his gaze isn't shy, either. It allows her some privacy, because he's a guy who needs time to search through his thoughts, regularly. But when she speaks up, Gorgug returns his gaze on her, and what she does-- he's quiet. It brings up the memory of that time, as twisted as it was.
He could say the same for her, and would-- but he doesn't want to interrupt her when she speaks again and changes the subject. They'll have time for that. For now, she remarks on the food, and Gorgug looks between the bags--large, bulky things. ]
Yeah. I bought over bread and butter and jams. Some vegetables, and there's meats-- I didn't know what you liked, so I got everything. [ He looks back up. ] I got coffee too, and teas. I know you like coffee. Oh yeah, and chocolate? And ice cream... I got a bunch of different flavours. And I got a bottle of milk?
[ He hasn't been ignorant of how much he's gotten, but he is being faced with the extent of how far he went. So when he's done, glances once more at the bags (and still wearing one on his back), he's sheepish as he confesses: ]
[ It's a lot of food, more than she would normally store for only herself in her incredibly Victorian kitchen, especially with her with an appetite still lacking.
It's clear how much he wants to help, but she loathes the thought of being pitied. She has fallen too far into her enui, acting as the walking dead, and this should be the alarm to revive some part of her. Has her flame gone cold?
Scratching at her wrist, wishing she could reach her arm through the lace-lined sleeve, Vanessa turns to lead him towards the back of the grand but neglected house.
The cellar seems a better choice than the kitchen, if they want to keep some of his offerings from spoiling. ]
In the other realm where I was once trapped, nearly a year ago now, I made the mistake of attempting nearly every flavor of iced cream offered. Unfortunately, it had been cursed.
[ Is it too much, he wonders? Wants to ask, even, but isn't sure, since doesn't everyone need a lot of food for their kitchens? It's the silence that makes him want to ask, but when she turns, he's confused at first, until realising he should pick up the bags.
And so he does, scraping them all together, the tightness of the handles showing in how they hang from his hands, but they don't manage to dig in against his skin. Gorgug walks without trouble. ]
Um... [ Well.. ] ...does that mean you don't want the ice cream? I don't think it's cursed--it's never been cursed when I've eaten it.
[ Not that he eats ice cream regularly, but it does sound like a problem, right? He looks down at the bags, wondering. ]
I can try them.
[ Some people might just think to try and detect the curse. But also...it's ice cream? ]
[ At the stairs, she slows for a moment, as if actually considering, but she's merely humoring a sad amusement at his offer. He is trying so fiercely to comfort her in his own way, to press away her anxieties so that...what?
Is there any hope to resume their former connection? Was that only steeped in chaos?
No. She had been drawn to him as one of the first for a reason. His pain had been real, and so was hers. Her desire to nurture had been true, but she had nurtured all of the wrong intentions.
If he wants to put her at ease, to know more so that he can keep his true friends safe, that she can accept and understand. Better than any attempts made for her sake, no matter how much he may seem to empathize. ]
No, I only meant...that it will be something of a rare pleasure...to enjoy such a treat without any caveats.
[ Until the kitchen can be cleaned—and now, there is motivation to do so—the meats and other perishables should be stored. She would hate for so much to go to waste when he's put in such thought.
At the bottom of the stairs, Vanessa will turn to offer her hand for one of the bags. She's stronger than she looks. ]
You said... you wish to know where my powers come from? Beyond the...former possession?
[ So he says to her clarification, understanding coming upon its heels. His friends have worried previous about cursed food, especially recently, back with the odd tea that they figured out the source in December. But to have treats without worrying about any of that--it is good, and isn't it a bad thing to have to be concerned about in the first place?
But he speaks no more on it, following along when Vanessa continues, and then pausing when she does. She holds out a hand, and he looks between the two of them, and offers her the one with the ice creams (since they're talking about that), about to ask her to tell him if it's too heavy. But her words come first.
Ah- ]
Yeah, I mean... you said you're worried about doing something bad... even without the Im'mari? And-- I don't actually know a lot about magic, but I figured, that, there's some magic that's effective against others, and I got a device to help me figure out... magic from other worlds. I don't know if it'll help, but...
[ But. He hasn't kept his gaze on her, more due to his fumbling than for any particular reason, but he does look at her then, as: ]
I want to take you seriously. So... I'll try and learn something. If I can. [ A beat, and he shrugs one shoulder awkwardly. ] We can dispel or restrain magic with artificing too. If we know what we're up against.
[ Gorgug having that sort of device is no surprise, given how clever he is, but it still sounds too close to a science experiment for Vanessa's liking.
There is, also, that subconscious nagging that reminds her of what needs to be kept secret. There is only so much transparency that one can offer, even in the most dire of times. Hasn't she been forced to learn that the hard way? ]
All you would require to stop me is a bullet...or a blade.
[ No special knowledge is required for that. Aelwyn's blade would have ended her if not for Gorgug's connection.
Did he also have a new scar from it?
Opening up one of the pantry doors, Vanessa will nod to him so that he knows he can enter. There is plenty of shelving, at the very least. There is an ice box within, but without being restocked, it's about as useful as the rest of the storage down here.
For that reason, she'll set the ice cream aside so that they can enjoy some of it once they're through putting everything else away. It would be a shame to let it all melt. ]
The first witch I ever met told me that my magic was a part of me, that I was born this way, and so I did not need to learn spell-craft like witches did I was—am different.. I only needed to...remember. But where I pull these memories from, it is a dark place where evil dwells. It is why such creatures have always been drawn to me. The Im'mari was not the first.
[ A bullet or a blade--would it be that simple? It could be, Gorgug knows that, though he doesn't think too deeply on the ways that magic can stop such things; there's the question on the back of his tongue about protection wards, but that can wait--Vanessa nods, so he enters on after her.
He does wonder about a freezer here, though, or what exactly Vanessa uses to store her frozen foods, if she regular gets them. Looking, but she puts the ice cream aside, so he's not quite sure from seeing that. So he sets the bags down, noting their different foods, and stays kneeling when Vanessa speaks again. ]
There's spellcasters like that where I'm from. [ His eyes narrow, squinting as he thinks. ] I mean... I think clerics are like that, who get their powers from their gods. And then there's... warlocks? Or-- sorcerers? One of them, they just-- have the magic. They know it. Something about bloodlines, or pacts. [ Ah, he remembers- ] There was a guy who made a pact for magic with my friend's dad. He's a-- fallen angel. So he's kinda a devil now.
[ He looks at her, also recalling: ] You said something about devils or demons when we first talked. I think you didn't like them.
[ It's been a while. He remembers feeling guarded about the topic, if briefly--mainly for his friend's benefit, though also knowing that--hell is hell. Demons are meant to be awful. He can't be that defensive of that side of existence.
But he will ask, just as an aside: ] Do you have a preference about where anything goes?
[ It might disrupt the topic temporarily, but he can put things away as they speak. (And maybe he'll finally see an old-fashioned ice box.) ]
[ Her protections had always been crafted with specific threats in mind—the Devil, his witches, their dark enchantments. Mundane weapons would find no resistance.
'Didn't like them' pulls a ghost of bitter amusement across her features, words momentarily failing her.
At his question about shelving, she shakes her head, gesturing vaguely at the vast space. Without Sir Malcolm's meticulous organization, the pantry stands largely empty save for the massive ice box visible through barren shelves on the far wall. ]
Where I am from, pacts are for witches seeking power from the Devil himself. I suppose it is connected to my blood, in a way... My flesh. My bones. My soul—blackened as it is. It is what I am.
[ Joan's words echo in her mind—how she was made of magic itself. Such truth had been too terrible to grasp in her youth, too entangled with her own perceived monstrosity.
The mention of a fallen angel stirs a memory from some months ago—another young man speaking of his father and Hell's throne. Perhaps not such a coincidence.
Her voice drops lower, heavy with old pain. ]
Satan himself vied for me...for my power. He has tormented me since I was young, using his witches to threaten my loved ones when I would not concede to his possession. He would call to me using other names, attempting to seduce me to his side.
[ A devil that haunts her, yearns for her power. Is it different? Different from Gorthalax, maybe, but--also maybe not. It wouldn't be right to rid the marks on one's person just because they have positive sides you might like.
But then again, it wasn't him that Gorgug had originally been thinking of, so he does nod, but with something of a mild expression on his face. Sensitive to Vanessa's story--her history. ]
Fig wouldn't be into that, but-- I know devils can, or would. [ A beat. ] Not personally, but-- they are bad. That's their thing.
[ Mayhem, chaos. Different kinds, and this one sounds on the pretty vile scale. ]
Satan sounds like he's big business, if he's got people on the top on his sound. [ He pauses, and looks at Vanessa; having glanced at her between putting the groceries away, but keeping his gaze on her now, as: ] I'm sorry he sucks so bad. I don't know what it's like, being haunted like that.
[ 'Fig' as a devil's name has her wondering if it's just a nickname, but too much else is occupying her thoughts to find enough relevance to ask (for now). The comparison to being haunted is not too distant, and her half-smile is pinched and bitter with a slight shrug. ]
Even then, I was no victim. I was the one to first call him to me, in truth, though I did not know who I was reaching for in the beginning. I called to God, but only the Devil ever heard me.
Such possessions first manifested as illness that no doctor could properly name. Seizures. Madness. I would forget myself. When I was locked away, my mother and father could not know that the treatments were little more than torture.
[ Her voice is tight in this mention, so rarely even alluding to this history with her closest of friends. Perhaps it is shame, but there is more to her reluctance to recall such a painful time. Some months in that institution have been hidden away from even her own memory. ]
I know you carry no similarities to the doctor who held me, but I've no care to become anyone's experiment again, even under the guise of help. I can only answer...with what little I know.
[ She's not a victim. She's never a victim. Gorgug is not someone who can think deeply on the spot, especially not others, and he perceives people better by what they say. And this is what Vanessa reiterates: she doesn't need pity, she doesn't want to be helped. What's happened is her fault, both in the present and past.
There's something to be taken from that. Maybe it's a comfort for her: to criticise yourself than to look outside at forces you can't control. And maybe he will be able to think about it more, take something from it, but for now (and even then, in that possibly future), he tries to take it as a lesson about Vanessa: who she is. How she approaches things, herself. A way to respect her boundaries.
So he nods when she sets her terms, thinking it over, but not very long--looking at her when he speaks. ]
I would've just-- looked at you, if I scanned you. But that's okay; I'd like to just... talk with you...whenever you want. [ His voice is soft; not gentle, but reflective. He's got a bag of groceries emptied, and there's another to get through, but he's paused for the moment.
He doesn't need to be around her. They weren't that close either, before the fiasco. And he's admitted already how he doesn't want her to be alone--as much for her as for himself. It would be stupid to be around someone who could potentially hurt you, with all the warnings that Vanessa is giving. ]
You took care of me too, when we... were at that cabin. You helped me out. [ She could have been using him. Tricking him. But even so. ] So... I guess I'm trying to say, I'd like to know you, even if you're dangerous and you don't need my help, and I hope that's okay. It's like, I don't...
[ His lips pinch together, his brows narrowing, and he wishes he was better at words, always. Even the words by the front door seem wrong now. ]
I don't want to be...a bother, or be rude.
[ And there feels like there should be more, something about how he wants this for himself, too, he wants to feel--okay, he wants to recover through this, or he wants company in a shared misery, but.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ As sincere as his words are, they only compound her shame. If there's resentment, it too is directed inward. She brought this show of pity on herself. He compares it to how his friends helped him, but she cannot see it as the same. No matter their conflict, or what crimes he committed, she is the reason for all of it. As far as she knows, she's the reason the Im'mari followed them here.
It is what she knew on Earth, after all. Dark things have always sought out the Evil in her.
Perhaps he does understand her situation better than most in Etraya, but that's only because she hasn't allowed anyone still here to try and understand what she is. Even Constantine and Muriel know only that she is connected to something supernatural, to something dark, and that was before the Im'mari got its tentacles around her.
Though not many, some have tried to contact her since her crimes against Etraya. She could have reached back out, to face what she had done, to accept penance or even help. She isn't afraid of consequences, but perhaps she fears forgiveness, especially that she hasn't earned. And what does any of it mean, when the one who matters the most is gone because of what she is? When faith has died with her dreams?
Gorgug understands more than others, and yet he knows so little. He may be kind enough to forgive, but he could never accept the truth. Not even the King of Nightmares could, until it was too late. ]
I have never known a thing such as normal, and never would I think to. You ought to still blame me. You must. You cannot trust me, Gorgug. I only ever bring catastrophe. I accept this now, and so too should you.
[ With a furrowed brow and clutched hands, her gaze drifts up from the bags at his feet to stare at him. Unshed tears sting at her eyes, but the frustration keeps them at bay. ]
That being did not change me into something else. It only helped me understand the truth of what I have always been.
no subject
She believes it. Gorgug will accept it as well. He could be walking into the same situation he just got out of, but he also doesn't want to turn back. Either out of stupidity, or some trace of how he felt about her under the Im'mari's influence.
Or because he wouldn't feel good to leave her when she looks like this. ]
Okay, [ he says slowly, his head tipped forward. ] If you're going to bring trouble, ignoring you isn't going to help anyone when that happens... and I still want to make sure you have enough food and stuff, if you haven't been in the mood to go out.
[ Is it wrong to be honest now? That he wants to know she's getting what she needs, even in the face of her concerns and potential dangers. Gorgug stands, quiet, never good at this, a small pause before: ]
...so I'd still like to visit you, now and then. And I can study you, so you know I'm taking you seriously. [ He looks up, over at Vanessa. ] Just enough to know where your powers come from. So I can help everyone stop you if something happens again.
[ He offers it carefully, softly. ]
no subject
This is a level of acceptance that she can live with, and perhaps the most she can ever hope for. To acknowledge her darkness without condemnation, even if there is no way to love it.
Folding her arms, her eyes slip shut for just a moment, sniffling through unshed tears while struggling to keep the minimal composure she has left...if there is any to be found. ]
Even when supposedly not yourself, you concerned yourself over my state.
[ And it seems it wasn't merely because he was under thrall. Even at his worst, there was still a goodness motivating him to care for someone, whether or not selfish reasons were present. Vanessa doesn't wish for him to lose that part of his soul, and so she resists the urge to deny his offer of help.
Perhaps he deserves to know more, but that will also mean he should know why she is not a thing to be studied.
Her sigh is a wavering breath before she opens her eyes again, and glances back to the bags. No matter what comes next, she should not keep him standing in the entryway. ]
...You brought food, then?
no subject
He could say the same for her, and would-- but he doesn't want to interrupt her when she speaks again and changes the subject. They'll have time for that. For now, she remarks on the food, and Gorgug looks between the bags--large, bulky things. ]
Yeah. I bought over bread and butter and jams. Some vegetables, and there's meats-- I didn't know what you liked, so I got everything. [ He looks back up. ] I got coffee too, and teas. I know you like coffee. Oh yeah, and chocolate? And ice cream... I got a bunch of different flavours. And I got a bottle of milk?
[ He hasn't been ignorant of how much he's gotten, but he is being faced with the extent of how far he went. So when he's done, glances once more at the bags (and still wearing one on his back), he's sheepish as he confesses: ]
...I tried getting one of everything.
no subject
[ It's a lot of food, more than she would normally store for only herself in her incredibly Victorian kitchen, especially with her with an appetite still lacking.
It's clear how much he wants to help, but she loathes the thought of being pitied. She has fallen too far into her enui, acting as the walking dead, and this should be the alarm to revive some part of her. Has her flame gone cold?
Scratching at her wrist, wishing she could reach her arm through the lace-lined sleeve, Vanessa turns to lead him towards the back of the grand but neglected house.
The cellar seems a better choice than the kitchen, if they want to keep some of his offerings from spoiling. ]
In the other realm where I was once trapped, nearly a year ago now, I made the mistake of attempting nearly every flavor of iced cream offered. Unfortunately, it had been cursed.
[ Like everything else in life. ]
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And so he does, scraping them all together, the tightness of the handles showing in how they hang from his hands, but they don't manage to dig in against his skin. Gorgug walks without trouble. ]
Um... [ Well.. ] ...does that mean you don't want the ice cream? I don't think it's cursed--it's never been cursed when I've eaten it.
[ Not that he eats ice cream regularly, but it does sound like a problem, right? He looks down at the bags, wondering. ]
I can try them.
[ Some people might just think to try and detect the curse. But also...it's ice cream? ]
no subject
Is there any hope to resume their former connection? Was that only steeped in chaos?
No. She had been drawn to him as one of the first for a reason. His pain had been real, and so was hers. Her desire to nurture had been true, but she had nurtured all of the wrong intentions.
If he wants to put her at ease, to know more so that he can keep his true friends safe, that she can accept and understand. Better than any attempts made for her sake, no matter how much he may seem to empathize. ]
No, I only meant...that it will be something of a rare pleasure...to enjoy such a treat without any caveats.
[ Until the kitchen can be cleaned—and now, there is motivation to do so—the meats and other perishables should be stored. She would hate for so much to go to waste when he's put in such thought.
At the bottom of the stairs, Vanessa will turn to offer her hand for one of the bags. She's stronger than she looks. ]
You said... you wish to know where my powers come from? Beyond the...former possession?
no subject
[ So he says to her clarification, understanding coming upon its heels. His friends have worried previous about cursed food, especially recently, back with the odd tea that they figured out the source in December. But to have treats without worrying about any of that--it is good, and isn't it a bad thing to have to be concerned about in the first place?
But he speaks no more on it, following along when Vanessa continues, and then pausing when she does. She holds out a hand, and he looks between the two of them, and offers her the one with the ice creams (since they're talking about that), about to ask her to tell him if it's too heavy. But her words come first.
Ah- ]
Yeah, I mean... you said you're worried about doing something bad... even without the Im'mari? And-- I don't actually know a lot about magic, but I figured, that, there's some magic that's effective against others, and I got a device to help me figure out... magic from other worlds. I don't know if it'll help, but...
[ But. He hasn't kept his gaze on her, more due to his fumbling than for any particular reason, but he does look at her then, as: ]
I want to take you seriously. So... I'll try and learn something. If I can. [ A beat, and he shrugs one shoulder awkwardly. ] We can dispel or restrain magic with artificing too. If we know what we're up against.
no subject
There is, also, that subconscious nagging that reminds her of what needs to be kept secret. There is only so much transparency that one can offer, even in the most dire of times. Hasn't she been forced to learn that the hard way? ]
All you would require to stop me is a bullet...or a blade.
[ No special knowledge is required for that. Aelwyn's blade would have ended her if not for Gorgug's connection.
Did he also have a new scar from it?
Opening up one of the pantry doors, Vanessa will nod to him so that he knows he can enter. There is plenty of shelving, at the very least. There is an ice box within, but without being restocked, it's about as useful as the rest of the storage down here.
For that reason, she'll set the ice cream aside so that they can enjoy some of it once they're through putting everything else away. It would be a shame to let it all melt. ]
The first witch I ever met told me that my magic was a part of me, that I was born this way, and so I did not need to learn spell-craft like witches did I was—am different.. I only needed to...remember. But where I pull these memories from, it is a dark place where evil dwells. It is why such creatures have always been drawn to me. The Im'mari was not the first.
[ She doubts it will be the last. ]
no subject
He does wonder about a freezer here, though, or what exactly Vanessa uses to store her frozen foods, if she regular gets them. Looking, but she puts the ice cream aside, so he's not quite sure from seeing that. So he sets the bags down, noting their different foods, and stays kneeling when Vanessa speaks again. ]
There's spellcasters like that where I'm from. [ His eyes narrow, squinting as he thinks. ] I mean... I think clerics are like that, who get their powers from their gods. And then there's... warlocks? Or-- sorcerers? One of them, they just-- have the magic. They know it. Something about bloodlines, or pacts. [ Ah, he remembers- ] There was a guy who made a pact for magic with my friend's dad. He's a-- fallen angel. So he's kinda a devil now.
[ He looks at her, also recalling: ] You said something about devils or demons when we first talked. I think you didn't like them.
[ It's been a while. He remembers feeling guarded about the topic, if briefly--mainly for his friend's benefit, though also knowing that--hell is hell. Demons are meant to be awful. He can't be that defensive of that side of existence.
But he will ask, just as an aside: ] Do you have a preference about where anything goes?
[ It might disrupt the topic temporarily, but he can put things away as they speak. (And maybe he'll finally see an old-fashioned ice box.) ]
no subject
'Didn't like them' pulls a ghost of bitter amusement across her features, words momentarily failing her.
At his question about shelving, she shakes her head, gesturing vaguely at the vast space. Without Sir Malcolm's meticulous organization, the pantry stands largely empty save for the massive ice box visible through barren shelves on the far wall. ]
Where I am from, pacts are for witches seeking power from the Devil himself. I suppose it is connected to my blood, in a way... My flesh. My bones. My soul—blackened as it is. It is what I am.
[ Joan's words echo in her mind—how she was made of magic itself. Such truth had been too terrible to grasp in her youth, too entangled with her own perceived monstrosity.
The mention of a fallen angel stirs a memory from some months ago—another young man speaking of his father and Hell's throne. Perhaps not such a coincidence.
Her voice drops lower, heavy with old pain. ]
Satan himself vied for me...for my power. He has tormented me since I was young, using his witches to threaten my loved ones when I would not concede to his possession. He would call to me using other names, attempting to seduce me to his side.
Different, perhaps, from the Devil you know?
no subject
But then again, it wasn't him that Gorgug had originally been thinking of, so he does nod, but with something of a mild expression on his face. Sensitive to Vanessa's story--her history. ]
Fig wouldn't be into that, but-- I know devils can, or would. [ A beat. ] Not personally, but-- they are bad. That's their thing.
[ Mayhem, chaos. Different kinds, and this one sounds on the pretty vile scale. ]
Satan sounds like he's big business, if he's got people on the top on his sound. [ He pauses, and looks at Vanessa; having glanced at her between putting the groceries away, but keeping his gaze on her now, as: ] I'm sorry he sucks so bad. I don't know what it's like, being haunted like that.
cw: mental illness, mental hospital, torture
Even then, I was no victim. I was the one to first call him to me, in truth, though I did not know who I was reaching for in the beginning. I called to God, but only the Devil ever heard me.
Such possessions first manifested as illness that no doctor could properly name. Seizures. Madness. I would forget myself. When I was locked away, my mother and father could not know that the treatments were little more than torture.
[ Her voice is tight in this mention, so rarely even alluding to this history with her closest of friends. Perhaps it is shame, but there is more to her reluctance to recall such a painful time. Some months in that institution have been hidden away from even her own memory. ]
I know you carry no similarities to the doctor who held me, but I've no care to become anyone's experiment again, even under the guise of help. I can only answer...with what little I know.
no subject
There's something to be taken from that. Maybe it's a comfort for her: to criticise yourself than to look outside at forces you can't control. And maybe he will be able to think about it more, take something from it, but for now (and even then, in that possibly future), he tries to take it as a lesson about Vanessa: who she is. How she approaches things, herself. A way to respect her boundaries.
So he nods when she sets her terms, thinking it over, but not very long--looking at her when he speaks. ]
I would've just-- looked at you, if I scanned you. But that's okay; I'd like to just... talk with you...whenever you want. [ His voice is soft; not gentle, but reflective. He's got a bag of groceries emptied, and there's another to get through, but he's paused for the moment.
He doesn't need to be around her. They weren't that close either, before the fiasco. And he's admitted already how he doesn't want her to be alone--as much for her as for himself. It would be stupid to be around someone who could potentially hurt you, with all the warnings that Vanessa is giving. ]
You took care of me too, when we... were at that cabin. You helped me out. [ She could have been using him. Tricking him. But even so. ] So... I guess I'm trying to say, I'd like to know you, even if you're dangerous and you don't need my help, and I hope that's okay. It's like, I don't...
[ His lips pinch together, his brows narrowing, and he wishes he was better at words, always. Even the words by the front door seem wrong now. ]
I don't want to be...a bother, or be rude.
[ And there feels like there should be more, something about how he wants this for himself, too, he wants to feel--okay, he wants to recover through this, or he wants company in a shared misery, but.
It's hard. It feels bad. ]