Well I mean, (she reasons, her voice dipping low and mock-sultry for a moment,) she doesn't hate him, so he doesn't have to be that charming to her. Y'know?
(get it, climene.)
It doesn't really matter anyway. She finds out he isn't a noble eventually, and then she dumps him.
Oof. Being dumped for status. [Clutching a hand over his heart, he dramatically wheezes out:] My financially unstable heart is broken for him; these are sympathy pains.
Are all noblemen and women that shallow?
Wait, don't answer that obvious question.
So what does he do after she dumps him? Sits in a bar and drinks?
(she's really enjoying that he's getting into the story with her,) He actually doesn't care that much. She's convinced he tricked her or something but he points out he never lied to her, he just... (vague gesture,) omitted the truth? He's a dick about it, but he's not wrong.
And then he keeps going on with his play. That's why it's called Scaramouche, it's the name of the character he performs as.
- Climene gets asked out by a Marquis later, so don't worry about her.
Huh. Good for her, I guess. Still getting her dating life in order.
[That's kind of how this walk goes, huh? Just talking at length about fencing academy aliases and revolutions and reconciliation with godfathers and all the fun stuff Scaramouche has to offer. It's honestly one of the more pleasant talks he's had in a while — which maybe isn't that shocking, considering some of the unfortunate events that seem to always happen around here.
... Right. Around here.
Once their conversation has lulled, he turns his attention to her more fully.]
Hey, uh. Abby? The truth is, there's something I've been needing to tell you. It's not... exactly the best news, but it's kind of occurring to me that it has to be said, so...
(she's grinning, but it drops off the moment he opens his mouth again to speak. she doesn't meant to make a face like she just dropped an ice cream cone, but she can't help it. abby has a bad feeling, and peter's sudden change in tone makes her stomach do a big, squirmy twist. she slides her hands into the pocket of her jacket, runs her tongue over her teeth and makes herself ask.)
So... what?
(he's been in a funny mood this whole time. because of this? whatever he's about to say next? how couldn't she be nervous about that.)
Well, except that seeing her look at him like that doesn't help. He's always been so bad at keeping his resolve when a pretty face looks at him like that; MJ used to pull it all the time, and he was always weak to it. Always.]
Well... You know, uh. Before Trench, when people vanished — they tended to just... y'know.
Poof.
One moment they're there, the next they'd just... be gone.
I remember. (fuck, he hasn't found something terrible out about the way people leave here, has he? for a moment, she internally lists all the people that they have in common, wondering if somebody has left, and he saw, and he's here to give her bad news.
whatever it is, he knows something she doesn't and is taking his sweet time to get there.)
What about it, (she prompts, and stops walking, reaching out to take his elbow.) Can you just tell me? (a little, nervous laugh leaks out of her mouth,) You're freaking me out.
look at me playercesting to give you the 1, 2, K.O.
Sorry, it's... [Her hand on his elbow reorients his thoughts, makes it easier to look at her and just get it over with.] In Trench, I think people who return — they return to the ocean, instead of just vanishing.
They're pulled to it, like some compulsion. Some kind that gets stronger and stronger. It's like all rational thought leaves you, and you start getting weaker and weaker to it, until you're — gone.
[He glances toward the direction of the ocean. Even now... he still feels like he needs to go. Even as much as he struggles to refocus on staying, on getting the hell away from that shoreline, he... just can't.]
It happened to Diarmuid already. The ocean called him back, too.
(diarmuid is a blow, a tiny disappointment that abby weathers with a pinched expression. such a cool kid... she'd missed his departure completely.
as for the ocean, the one that calls out to them: abby can work with that reality, that isn't the issue here. what she doesn't like is the way that peter describes it, like he understands the working behind it. he is looking out in the direction of the ocean rather than at her, and already feels far away even though he's so close.
she can feel his pulse where her hand is pressed against the inner seam of his arm. she already knows the answer to this question.)
[It's not easy. He'd never been addicted to anything in his life, save for maybe the sweet taste of bad coffee, but his short time in Rapture a good two years ago had left him with a short, awful taste of what real addiction feels like. And right now, he feels it again — that feeling that the ocean's near, that he would like nothing more than to crawl into it and feel the waves take him. It's a bit horrific, to come back to yourself and remember that it's not truly what you want. That it's something happening to your mind.
He puts a hand over hers and squeezes to ground himself once more in reality, and not in the fantasy that is all but burned into his thoughts. Go back, go where you came from, to the ocean. Not yet, though. Not yet. He looks from their hands to her eyes, regretful and apologetic and sad.]
I know.
I'm sorry, Abby. It's not going to be long, and I just... I don't want to leave without saying what I need to say to the people I care about.
(she nods, not trusting herself to speak past the sudden lump in her throat because it strikes her as deeply unfair that he should leave now, when he doesn't want to. abby doesn't want him to go either. she wanted to tell him so many things. she wanted to know him better and get closer to him, and she was being slow and careful with that, allowing it to build; all for nothing. she thought she'd have more time with him, the thought barely a comfort.
this disappointment abruptly crashes through her, but she holds strong despite it, biting the inside of her cheek, looking away. she needs a quick break from his expression, because he looks so sad, and he said i'm sorry, like this is some how his fault. so fucking selfless, as per usual. that makes her want to shake him, the familiar impulse causing her to huff out a little laugh.
when she finally looks back at him, she feels steadier.)
... You let me talk for way too long about Scaramouche. (he has things to say to the people he cares about, right? and he doesn't have enough time. she wishes she hadn't wasted her slot talking about some stupid book.)
Oh, I don't know about that. I was super into it. Who doesn't love a good book?
[Well, there's one thing that he doesn't hesitate to do; it just feels right, feels like a proper goodbye. He leans in, pressing a soft, fond kiss to her cheek. Standing back a step, his smile softens, eyes gentle in the way they wordlessly say goodbye.]
(the look she flashes him is tight, upset,) I know, but...
(if she'd have known, she would have said other things. maybe. they're all crowding around on the tip of her tongue now, vying for first position. she has no idea how to voice any of them or if she even should, and she's thinking about that when he kisses her, gentle and warm on the apple of her cheek.
it makes abby's ears go pink.
to think that he might have liked her too and hadn't said anything– it's almost too much. it fucking sucks.)
Peter, I–
(she can't think of what she should say, and maybe it's easier to show him anyway. he's stepped back, so she has to come in close deliberately, nervously, to cup his face between her calloused palms and kiss him properly. her fingers brush through the soft hair at the nape of his neck; abby gives him something harder and longer, a stand in for about a thousand words.
when she lets him go, it feels better than before, like she's given something weighing on her permission to go with him.)
Be safe. (she rolls her eyes to punctuate it,) As safe as you ever are, I mean.
[Peter always ends up being the first to kiss, huh? But this time, it's not him who's going to end up leaving. Looks like he's taking a page out of Wade's handbook — vanishing, leaving a lot of what-ifs and moments that would've been nicer with company. He's almost relieved, though. It's a young, silly crush, y'know? He'd been devastated when Wade left, and he couldn't fathom being that deep a cut for anyone else.
This is good. This is fine. Abby's a beautiful woman and the sky's the limit.
He kisses her back with soft intent, the gesture practiced even when so much time has passed. It's an easy goodbye. A good one. And though he has guilt and regret, it's not quite so palpable as it tends to be with him; she'll be okay, and he's happy to know. When they pull away, he reaches over, helps tuck back a wayward strand of hair with the same energy of a polite boy tidying the art supplies, eager to offer whatever service he can to repair the things around him.
It's a trait too easily developed in a decade. He grins.]
Hey, last time I checked, you get into plenty of trouble yourself.
[His eyes are warm, maybe shinier than usual. Maybe it's a trick of the light. Or maybe he's a sap. We all know which one is more likely. The weight she'd felt parallels his in its own way, and he feels it lessen in tandem.]
(she receives the gentle tuck of hair behind her ear with another uncertain smile, teeth closing gently around the inside of her cheek, pressing down. all she needs is for the interaction to be over now, if only so she doesn't do something stupid like tear up in front of him. how embarrassing would that be. he's oddly beautiful to her, standing in the light. his gaze is warm, and caring. if she had to have a last memory of him, she's glad it's like this.)
I'll try.
(... to get into trouble, or to take care of herself? might be a bit of both. her little joke.
abby shoves her hands into her pockets, and leaves before he can catch her expression crumbling at the edges.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
(get it, climene.)
It doesn't really matter anyway. She finds out he isn't a noble eventually, and then she dumps him.
no subject
Are all noblemen and women that shallow?
Wait, don't answer that obvious question.
So what does he do after she dumps him? Sits in a bar and drinks?
no subject
(she's really enjoying that he's getting into the story with her,) He actually doesn't care that much. She's convinced he tricked her or something but he points out he never lied to her, he just... (vague gesture,) omitted the truth? He's a dick about it, but he's not wrong.
And then he keeps going on with his play. That's why it's called Scaramouche, it's the name of the character he performs as.
- Climene gets asked out by a Marquis later, so don't worry about her.
no subject
[That's kind of how this walk goes, huh? Just talking at length about fencing academy aliases and revolutions and reconciliation with godfathers and all the fun stuff Scaramouche has to offer. It's honestly one of the more pleasant talks he's had in a while — which maybe isn't that shocking, considering some of the unfortunate events that seem to always happen around here.
... Right. Around here.
Once their conversation has lulled, he turns his attention to her more fully.]
Hey, uh. Abby? The truth is, there's something I've been needing to tell you. It's not... exactly the best news, but it's kind of occurring to me that it has to be said, so...
no subject
(she's grinning, but it drops off the moment he opens his mouth again to speak. she doesn't meant to make a face like she just dropped an ice cream cone, but she can't help it. abby has a bad feeling, and peter's sudden change in tone makes her stomach do a big, squirmy twist. she slides her hands into the pocket of her jacket, runs her tongue over her teeth and makes herself ask.)
So... what?
(he's been in a funny mood this whole time. because of this? whatever he's about to say next? how couldn't she be nervous about that.)
no subject
Well, except that seeing her look at him like that doesn't help. He's always been so bad at keeping his resolve when a pretty face looks at him like that; MJ used to pull it all the time, and he was always weak to it. Always.]
Well... You know, uh. Before Trench, when people vanished — they tended to just... y'know.
Poof.
One moment they're there, the next they'd just... be gone.
no subject
whatever it is, he knows something she doesn't and is taking his sweet time to get there.)
What about it, (she prompts, and stops walking, reaching out to take his elbow.) Can you just tell me? (a little, nervous laugh leaks out of her mouth,) You're freaking me out.
look at me playercesting to give you the 1, 2, K.O.
Sorry, it's... [Her hand on his elbow reorients his thoughts, makes it easier to look at her and just get it over with.] In Trench, I think people who return — they return to the ocean, instead of just vanishing.
They're pulled to it, like some compulsion. Some kind that gets stronger and stronger. It's like all rational thought leaves you, and you start getting weaker and weaker to it, until you're — gone.
[He glances toward the direction of the ocean. Even now... he still feels like he needs to go. Even as much as he struggles to refocus on staying, on getting the hell away from that shoreline, he... just can't.]
It happened to Diarmuid already. The ocean called him back, too.
And I think I'm next.
mods arrest this player IMMEDIATELY
as for the ocean, the one that calls out to them: abby can work with that reality, that isn't the issue here. what she doesn't like is the way that peter describes it, like he understands the working behind it. he is looking out in the direction of the ocean rather than at her, and already feels far away even though he's so close.
she can feel his pulse where her hand is pressed against the inner seam of his arm. she already knows the answer to this question.)
D'you think? Or do you know.
3:^)
He puts a hand over hers and squeezes to ground himself once more in reality, and not in the fantasy that is all but burned into his thoughts. Go back, go where you came from, to the ocean. Not yet, though. Not yet. He looks from their hands to her eyes, regretful and apologetic and sad.]
I know.
I'm sorry, Abby. It's not going to be long, and I just... I don't want to leave without saying what I need to say to the people I care about.
no subject
this disappointment abruptly crashes through her, but she holds strong despite it, biting the inside of her cheek, looking away. she needs a quick break from his expression, because he looks so sad, and he said i'm sorry, like this is some how his fault. so fucking selfless, as per usual. that makes her want to shake him, the familiar impulse causing her to huff out a little laugh.
when she finally looks back at him, she feels steadier.)
... You let me talk for way too long about Scaramouche. (he has things to say to the people he cares about, right? and he doesn't have enough time. she wishes she hadn't wasted her slot talking about some stupid book.)
no subject
Oh, I don't know about that. I was super into it. Who doesn't love a good book?
[Well, there's one thing that he doesn't hesitate to do; it just feels right, feels like a proper goodbye. He leans in, pressing a soft, fond kiss to her cheek. Standing back a step, his smile softens, eyes gentle in the way they wordlessly say goodbye.]
I'm really glad I got to meet you.
no subject
(if she'd have known, she would have said other things. maybe. they're all crowding around on the tip of her tongue now, vying for first position. she has no idea how to voice any of them or if she even should, and she's thinking about that when he kisses her, gentle and warm on the apple of her cheek.
it makes abby's ears go pink.
to think that he might have liked her too and hadn't said anything– it's almost too much. it fucking sucks.)
Peter, I–
(she can't think of what she should say, and maybe it's easier to show him anyway. he's stepped back, so she has to come in close deliberately, nervously, to cup his face between her calloused palms and kiss him properly. her fingers brush through the soft hair at the nape of his neck; abby gives him something harder and longer, a stand in for about a thousand words.
when she lets him go, it feels better than before, like she's given something weighing on her permission to go with him.)
Be safe. (she rolls her eyes to punctuate it,) As safe as you ever are, I mean.
no subject
This is good. This is fine. Abby's a beautiful woman and the sky's the limit.
He kisses her back with soft intent, the gesture practiced even when so much time has passed. It's an easy goodbye. A good one. And though he has guilt and regret, it's not quite so palpable as it tends to be with him; she'll be okay, and he's happy to know. When they pull away, he reaches over, helps tuck back a wayward strand of hair with the same energy of a polite boy tidying the art supplies, eager to offer whatever service he can to repair the things around him.
It's a trait too easily developed in a decade. He grins.]
Hey, last time I checked, you get into plenty of trouble yourself.
[His eyes are warm, maybe shinier than usual. Maybe it's a trick of the light. Or maybe he's a sap. We all know which one is more likely. The weight she'd felt parallels his in its own way, and he feels it lessen in tandem.]
... Take care of yourself, Abby.
no subject
I'll try.
(... to get into trouble, or to take care of herself? might be a bit of both. her little joke.
abby shoves her hands into her pockets, and leaves before he can catch her expression crumbling at the edges.)