mayfield_logs | [closed] the distinction between the past, present, and future

[closed] the distinction between the past, present, and future

Who: Ciel and Abel
What: "Elesia."
Where: The Church of Salvation.
When: The Thursday following the Band Candy event.
Why: because hideousness and derp clergy?!

...It had been several days since Elesia had shown her face in Mayfield -- and then promptly faded away back into the woman that she would one day become.

But Sister Ciel had not made a reappearance at the Church of Salvation, since.

Her absence had been a subject of concern to the priest who had repeatedly returned to the chapel in hopes of seeing her here after his... discussion... with the sixteen year old girl Ciel had temporarily regressed to. Though he hadn't intended to stir the skeletons in her closet -- the skeletons of the past -- his words had unintentionally brought about a reaction that he had never expected. The eyes of a girl who hadn't yet faced the pain that had to have been part of what shaped and changed the woman she would one day be, had been contorted in... fear. In panic -- in outright terror. The strength of whatever had been suffocated underneath her psyche had been so immense that the mere fact its existence had been brought to light had sent her entire world toppling, internally. She could not, absolutely could not, stomach it.

To know that whatever it had been... had actually come to pass for her -- that this pain had been real, and endured...

...To say that he was worried, worried how Ciel herself might take waking up with reminders of all those old burdens brought back to light...

It was an understatement.

Though he had made 'Elesia' promise to meet him at the church the following day, he hadn't expected for 'Ciel' to upkeep that promise. Still, it made his heart sink when the chapel had been abandoned of her presence the day after... And that feeling became an uneasy one when she still wasn't there the day after that. Three days became four, and Abel's guilt at what he'd resurfaced was eating at him. Should he go pay her a visit? She might be avoiding him -- angry or hurt... but the thought that she might be holing herself away, in pain and alone, was what got to him most. He tried to hold his hand, demonstrate a patience he wasn't well known for, in case his presence at her door would only make matters worse.

So he waited. And waited.

He waited still, sitting in one of the pews of the church as afternoon started to become evening, shadows creeping taller where candlelight brought them to life. An onlooker might think that the good priest were engaged in prayer, with his head ducked and hands clasped together between his knees as they are. But he's simply thinking, listening to the silence of a place of virtue and prayer, comforting for its familiarity in an unfamiliar setting. It may be Mayfield, but a church always felt like 'home.'

Did Ciel feel that way too...?

Would she come back here at all...

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

It's been a long time since anything has put her at a complete loss. She's met her share of difficult people, at home especially since encountering one boy has been pivotal in changing her perspective on life as it stands now, but she always excelled at not showing any strong reactions to other people's words or actions. Staying calm and maintaining a face of consistency no matter what is something she should be well-known for. It was however also usually easy to get away with it even if her demeanor slips, since she's either rarely questioned or could expertly lie her way through/shrug it off by reassuring others that nothing was out of place. Sometimes it WAS just for theatrics too, just for fun.

But this is different.

He is sharp, inquisitive, and relentless if he fixates himself on anything. In the few months that she's gotten to know Abel Nightroad, she already knows the vapid and overly dramatic facade hides a man who's seen far more than he would ever let on. He may be excessively kind and caring, but that's just part of him holding onto what's every bit a burden as it is an objective, a goal he's resolved to see through to the finish - or as long as fate may allow him, something also far too heavy for any normal person to understand.

She can follow that line of reasoning even without any details because she practices something similar. "Birds of a feather" may be more accurate than even she's truly comfortable with. It's because of such, in the end, that she knew she would be unable to escape the inevitable questions if she were to meet him again. To everyone else "Elesia" met that day, "Ciel" has her ways. Whether it be tp convince them it was a trick of the town, or just tell them to forget about it because "Ciel" is okay now - whatever the means, the other person will accept that she's mysteriously regressed to her teenage self for a day and has now returned to normal. The name change might be trickier to explain, but with some careful wording, no more questions will be asked and things will simply end there. The weekend was just another one of Mayfield's pranks, nothing more and nothing less.

But it's not going to fly with him. He is going to ask, he will insist, and--

...

Maybe it's that unreasonable amount of apprehension - and if she is to be completely honest, borderline fear, that made her choose to not show during the evenings from Monday to Wednesday. ...Ah, she actually came by in the morning on all three days, but very briefly before classes began for Mayfield High. The building stayed meticulous, but it's true that nothing else has been really used for the last three days. The drone priest has been allowed to roam freely too, when he's usually almost never seen because Ciel never keeps him around when she's there. ...She was also aware, however, that she was just being childish as the days dragged by. Hiding isn't going to make him go away. Hiding isn't going to make her own past go away. Hasn't she already come to terms with it anyway, in better or worse ways? She just didn't really want to talk about it, especially not to a man like him. But bringing it up again can't be helped, she... She needs to at least try appeasing him and his cumbersome curiosity, so that he won't need to ask again. She simply must word herself with far more care and attention than usual. In the end, this is something she has to face, and best to get it done sooner than later, drag it out until she gets cornered. She's already taken three days off; enough beating around the bush.

So on Thursday evening, she sets foot back onto Church grounds. A few hours later than usual, but it seems like as she's thought, it made no difference. With how she's modified her boundary field to double as an alarm and detector, she already knows that someone's already there as she makes her way through the side of the Church to enter by the backdoor. ...Maybe it was one last weak attempt to save face, bringing two bags of sugar with her to boot so that she could have some pretext of dropping by to restock the supply inside the pantry. ...Meaning that yes, she will stop by the kitchen first before coming back to the front through the hallways on the sides, but that is, if he doesn't intercept her first by coming here instead. She's made no attempt to be quiet, it wouldn't surprise her if the steps of her hard-woven boots could be heard even at the front (that and she was quite certain he'd be able to make up plenty of excuses on his own, knowing that he wouldn't let her leave here in peace now that she's finally decided to show). It's... not like she was sneaking in or anything, after all. What's wrong with using the back door, once in a while?

...He hears the sound of the back door creaking ajar, followed by the tell-tale sound of footsteps. Finally, his silent vigil was broken, and his head lifts in acknowledgment that he was no longer alone.

He waits, at first -- hesitant, debating. He knows it's the Sister; though it was plausible that one of the other members of the clergy or their allies who frequented the church might come in through the back, those footsteps are familiar and he knows, knows without question, that it's her. She might not want to see him; it's a later hour than they usually happened to meet when they ran into one another, here. On top of that, she had come in the back; perhaps she was still avoiding running into anyone else, including Abel. He wasn't sure that it was his place to disturb her if she wanted peace of mind, and quiet.

But...

...If she was hurting...

If that woman was hurting, and alone...

What had he said to her? The way she had taken it, the words seemed... wrong, to her. Surprising. When he had told her that she deserved someone to rely on as everyone relies on her, it almost seemed... strange. Like she wasn't sure she believed it. Dismissed it too quick -- and him, with it. He doubted that if she was in a place of pain and needed help, that she would reach out to get it.

Instead, she might deny -- even to herself -- that she needed (or deserved it) at all.

It's that little niggle, that thought that refuses to die in the back of his head, that has him eventually pulling up to his feet and quietly making his way toward the back and kitchen. It's a slow pace; he makes sure that his approach is loud enough to be heard and detected, that she wouldn't feel cornered or shocked by his abrupt appearance; she had time to leave before he reached his destination, if that was what she truly wanted. It was never his intention to spook her, or make her feel trapped. He wants to be her friend -- but he wouldn't ever force her hand. Not like this.

And so, Abel eventually pokes his head around the corner... unable to mute the concern in his eyes behind thick old-fashioned lenses, lanky form unassuming despite his height. Is she alright...? In pain? Scared? Shaken up...?

Is Ciel--

"...Sister?"

She'd be offended (or pretend mock-offense, really) if she had an inkling of what he was thinking. It's-- nice of him to be worried, but imagination can really take a man way too far beyond reasonable limits sometimes. Granted, it's holding the firm knowledge that she won't be left alone until she appeases that streak of his that she's decided on coming tonight, and...

His hesitation is endearing, if they didn't have more pressing things to attend to.

He'll catch her back first, half-hidden behind an open cupboard where she seems to be fidgeting with its contents - he might recognize the area as where the sugar bag usually goes, the smaller container for more precise measurement being stored elsewhere. Hearing herself being addressed however, she tilts her own head back to get into his line of sight, and--

--blinks at him once before showing her usual warm and easygoing smile.

"Ah, good evening, Father. You're here rather late... I didn't disturb, I hope?"

Not a trace of tension or discomfort. As if nothing strange has ever happened between them at all. He... certainly wouldn't be off the mark, to think that she may deny to herself just what kind of person she really is. But if there's no need for this "help" and she's been okay like this for a long time now, then what's the difference? And if there's no difference, why would one need to make a distinction to begin with? It's a circular argument without end, but to one who's already shut off her one true and lingering desire to do anything else than what she really does back home, this is just a part of who she is and how she acts now.

Ciel isn't an honest person.

That's one thing that it all that it may boil down to, something that he may be on the verge of finding out.

As she herself has come to admit -- birds of a feather.

He steps into the doorway properly at her acknowledgment, the concern in his gaze lingering and mixing with something... uncertain; uneasy. Instead of the smile at her lips being taken as something reassuring or a sign that all is well, to Abel... deep in his chest, all he can take it for is a sign that something is very, very wrong.

He nudges the glasses a bit higher up the bridge of his nose thoughtfully, brow knit with a worry that he isn't bothering to disguise as anything else. While any other day, he might be in the practice of pretending right along with her that all was just fine -- that they could play their game as they tended to do, Father and Sister, without a care in the world. She would make him something sweet and he would entertain her with mindless chatter about this, that, or the other thing... exaggerating over the menial little things, and watching her humor him with a little tug of satisfaction. That was how it usually went, right? Maybe it's how it'd go again, one day. But today...

Abel hesitates further, clearly debating how to move forward, before taking a step inside the kitchen. She asked if she disturbed him, but... he wonders if it's the other way around. She knows he won't accept that all is well and she's alright, but she's acting like nothing happened, regardless. So the question is -- why? Does she expect him to sweep it all under the rug? Is this her way of distancing herself from him? Showing him that there is a lack of trust? That he wronged her...?

He finds he doesn't quite know what to say, the words stuck in his throat. He wants to ask questions he knows she isn't going to answer.

Watching him stare back at her like a lost puppy, she could only uphold that gaze for a few seconds before turning away - well, just to close the cupboard really, her restocking business already done and over with.

A small sigh follows as she puts her hands to rest on her hips.

"You're really helplessly incorrigible, Father. Why don't you sit down while I get the kettle going? It looks like we'll both be here for a while. I for one knows for sure that I wouldn't be able to go home and sleep in peace tonight, if I was to leave here with that dejected expression of yours in my mind." She continues lightly with a small shake of her head, seeming to yield at his wordless insistence but also not without a touch of chagrin. She's not changing her demeanor, but she does acknowledge the fact that they need to... talk. At length. And she's going to have to reel that imagination of his back in check too, she knows she can't get away with playing dumb, but it's not a question of trust or being wronged either. He's just... fretting by himself over something that's not his business, an old story that's better left forgotten because there's no point bringing up the past when people live in the present. After all, no matter how hard one may wish for it, people can't change the past. Being nosy about someone's history just for that sake doesn't amount to anything, and even when she's pretty sure that this line of reasoning won't deter him, it's nevertheless a point that she'd like to get across. As for the rest...

They'll have to proceed slowly and see; she just needs to be particularly cautious and stay flexible as things go on.

His thoughts on the matter are much different than hers, it'd seem. He isn't particularly interested in the potentially sordid tale of her past; her secrets are her own and he would, of course, respect that. However...

It is not a matter of curiosity. Where she is content to leave the past as just that -- the past, a thing to be left behind and forgotten to the annals of history, he subscribes to the opposite line of thinking. The past cannot be forgotten. It can't be changed -- that much is true. It can't be altered or undone, but in the same vein... it cannot be ignored. It is obvious it has changed her; whatever she's endured has left scars she might believe she's acknowledged and put behind her in order to move on, but Abel believes differently. The matter of "what" that past is, is not as important as what she has done with it. If she has suffocated it, locked it away, moved one foot in front of the other without acknowledging it, even to herself -- then...

That past will be like an acid, eating away at any chance she has of truly moving on. She will always be dominated by it, won't she? She'll never know happiness, because every step she does take into the future will forever be marred and dominated by that past.

There is no denying that it haunts her. The fact that her younger self could have such a visceral reaction to the mere subconscious suggestion of those memories... it was proof of that. Whatever Ciel had been through was immense and life-altering. The woman that she was now had been forever changed, and perhaps the smile that she wore... the smile that masked everything with such flawless efficiency said far more than if he had walked into the kitchen to see tears in her eyes.

Abel is worried for her. When they first met, he knew that she carried some... weight on her shoulders; be it the burden of Mayfield or one she carried with her from home, he hadn't known, but as time had continued onward, he was certain it was both. The smile, kind and soft as it was, hid something beneath it; her careful deflections, her precisely chosen words... she was a creature of deceit, but it wasn't as if he judged her for that. It was arguable that everyone had some measure of lies built up around themselves to keep the unwanted from the surface, and he... who was he to question her for something like that? The only reason he understood what depths her lies hinted at was because he had a more intimate relationship with the mechanisms she employed to keep herself protected and hidden than most. And it is worrisome... worrisome, because he had grown too fond of her in the past few months. He does not want her to be the person alone in her pain, carrying some immense burden and bearing the heaviness of guilt or shame or grief without allowing herself to feel it or show it to others to lessen its weight. He has come to believe that's precisely what she's doing. Protecting others from herself; protecting herself from others -- had it become one in the same?

He will not pry. The details are not what he's after.

But...

"...you don't have to smile... if you don't want to, Sister."

Abel is a stubborn man. If it takes the entirety of his stay in this town, then... he will keep trying for this one thing -- for her to know that if nothing else, there is at least one person that masks, carefully placed smiles, and even more carefully chosen words... are not necessary around. There is no judgment; no pressure or expectation. To him, the only thing he wants from her is for her to feel that she, safely... can be herself -- the 'Ciel,' 'Elesia,' or nameless woman beneath layers of an illusion projected for the sake of the world around her.

She blinks.

The smile falters for an instant, but the crack vanishes as quickly as it came. Even if his guesses were close to being accurate, it doesn't change the fact that one has to take responsibility for their own actions. One must carry their own cross, as the saying goes. The woman of the present is nothing like the girl of the past all these years ago; she's equipped now to deal with what she couldn't before. How she deals with her own burden is a choice she's made for herself, if not an obligation she recognized after all's been said and done. Handling it on her own is just part of that, this isn't something anyone else can help her with. So...

Briefly wering her gaze, she shakes her head.

"I'm not in a bad mood right now, Father. Saying that is a bit sudden, but... what were you expecting, if you don't mind me asking?" Her expression is closer to neutral now, but the calm and easy demeanor stays firmly in place. He could try, but this isn't something she'd be willing to admit to any other openly.

"You've been avoiding me."

It's rather blunt. Avoiding him; perhaps more than him. People in general. He hadn't failed to notice that she had come to the Church -- but must have done so on off hours when she assumed he and the others would not be present to see to her.

"Ever since..." That, had happened.

"...you've made yourself scarce. So..."

If this had been something that hadn't bothered her -- if it was something she found easy to bury beneath the mask, then she would have come to him sooner to put the concerns she knew he would have to rest and avoid him putting as much weight into it as he inevitably would. The fact she had deemed that time necessary to put the 'facade' back in place convincingly before seeing him, he assumes, said that all was not well. To say the very least...

"I hardly expect you to put a smile on your face after something like that." It wasn't to say he had expected to see her in tears -- or breaking apart at the seams, but... after it all, to act like nothing happened was not what he anticipated.

"It's true that I haven't been here as much, and I apologize for my absence. But it's not because of you, it's my fault." Half a lie and half a truth. Him of all people is who she'd want to avoid the most after what's transpired that day, but at the same time, if they're like this now, it's because she's dawdled for far too long. ...She has effectively trapped herself in a sense, by allowing the days to drag on. 'I got distracted' is not going to be an excuse that would fly with him either, so how to put this...

Continuing to speak coherently and without difficulty may be a start, to show that she's not at all bothered and completely relaxed.

"It'd be embarrassing if I have to explain, I..." She hesitates for a bit before looking back at him unflinchingly in the eyes. "I just needed some time. It was, however, selfish of me to not have said anything to you. I should have at least left a note." Her stare will also clearly echo 'I'm okay', no matter what he may think otherwise. That said, she gives a small and polite bow. "I'm sorry to have worried or upset you, Father."

A small silence will briefly hang, but when she looks up again, a meek and sheepish smile now brightens the previously composed but neutral expression. Really, that day was no big deal.

"...Though just saying that is a bit shallow, isn't it? I'm really fine now, but if you're mad at me for having kept quiet, that's understandable too. ...If I could make it up to you for that..." She trails off, finally settling on being determined about leaving the past behind and insisting on having fully recovered.

Acting like it's nothing...

If it was nothing, then... she wouldn't have needed time, would she? There is no way that even his gullible ranks will believe that. Not this time.

None-the-less, he lifts his hands -- that furrow at his brow still one of concern, but of a different kind. That she felt the need to apologize to him at a time like this--

"--N... no! Ciel. Please!" He looks ready to prostrate. "Don't apologize. You have nothing to make up for, and I'm not mad at all!" Lord, forgive him if she sincerely thought he would be. "You're more than entitled to take some time to yourself, even... even if nothing had happened." She's hardly faulted for that in his eyes. And she hadn't owed him as much as a note, either, far as he is concerned.

I was just... worried.

"Ha...h?" That honestly catches her by surprise, she was quite ready to have him keep pressing. Maybe it's just been delayed, but until then, she'll take every concession she can get. "Yes, some space was... all I needed. It's good to hear that too, but please, I can't believe it when you say it like that!" She exclaims back, hunching over a bit herself as if ready to follow him down (or pull him back up) if he does so much as bow. Ignoring any potential hypocrisy of her own words, the goal tonight really is to have him stop worrying period. Regardless of whether the concerns are founded or not, any ideas he's gotten since catching a glimpse of her younger self up to today, ideally, has to go.

Space was all she needed... to pull the mask back on securely, right? But it doesn't erase that, even if briefly... she had been shaken by all of this in one way or another. He isn't forgetting as much.

"...I'm sorry. For--"

He pauses, hesitates; he doesn't want to make matters worse now that she had managed to get herself back to a place she felt secure.

"...for disturbing you, back then. I didn't realize that I was..." Saying something that would lead to that. That he had brought up such a terrible thing for her; it's one of the very reasons why an apology on her behalf isn't necessary at all. He had wronged her; it didn't go the other way around.

...

Really.

She sighs and heaves her shoulders, crossing her arms over her chest as she gives a sympathetic smile. It's true this time, she really can't show anything short of clear sincerity when he's still treading so carefully for her sake about something she's long since discarded.

"The town was toying with people again. There was no way you could have known what type of person that girl was, one easily overwhelmed and prone to silly outbreaks. If I don't have to apologize, then neither do you. There was bad luck all around, so please don't hold yourself responsible for things you had no control over." She fluently replies, and... The dissociation comes naturally. She realizes even as she uses the past tense and refers to her own shadow in the third person that it may set off alarm bells for him, but this is her own way of being 'truthful' to herself. She may also be throwing a transparent blanket over the assumption that joining the clergy wasn't a pleasant experience for her, but instead of lying outright, it'd be best to stay vague and gauge how easily he'd let go/stay adamant about that idea before taking it further.

What he thinks about the dissociation from her youth isn't apparent, aside from the fact that none of this is easing the concern from his eyes nor his expression -- though, some of the guilt recedes. It isn't because he feels any less guilty or apologetic for what he'd done to Elesia -- whether Ciel considers that girl as part of her or not, but because there are other things to worry about than his own guilty conscience.

Namely...

"...Those memories... just the mention of them... had you on the verge of -- breaking down."

It was an observation he wouldn't soon forget. Abel mentions this not in a callous attempt to draw her back to what she had felt that day, but rather because she so calmly speaks of it now as if she had completely separated herself from her past. That, he knew... that...

It couldn't be. No one was capable of shutting themselves off that way -- that pain... like all pain, had a way of eating away at the parts of yourself you didn't realize you had left to lose if left to suffer like that. For her... for Ciel, he doesn't want that at all.

"You're trying to dismiss it all... aren't you, Sister?" Sweep it under the rug. Play it down as meaningless, as nothing. But it was juxtaposed by her absence in the church, by her own admitted need for space. It had bothered her.

And that doesn't just vanish, not even with time.

She exhales, seeing where this is going.

"Just because a fixed image wasn't capable of dealing with an event once, doesn't mean that it won't learn how to as it shifts with the progression of time." She elaborates, ignoring his statement about her dismissal. "People grow and change, I shouldn't need to tell you this. I simply don't think it was worth mentioning again."

...It was painful back then, but the living will continue to live. She likes to think that she's overcome it, and while this town does have a nasty habit of dragging some fragments back to the surface occasionally, she's pulled herself together the same way she always had before. This hasn't failed her until now, why should it start anytime soon? As far as she's aware of, she's just continuing on the same path she's been on even before coming here. Mayfield made progress more difficult, but it hasn't changed her perception and judgment much in general.

She briefly closes her eyes as she keeps talking. Her tone is placid, if not borderline detached.

"I'll say this simply, Father Abel." Her gaze stays lowered as she continues, she doesn't intend to look back up either. "What you met that day was a ghost. I know I can't speak in absolutes here, but you shouldn't run into her ever again. That's why you shouldn't hold onto any impressions you've made at that time, chasing specters will get you nowhere in the present."

Edited 2012-03-23 04:21 (UTC)

Even her wording betrays more than Ciel might like about how she views -- and was effected by -- what transpired; that looming "event," or collection of memories that had nearly sent her regressed self unraveling.

What you met that day was a ghost.

His expression is troubled, and beyond that... serious, almost grave. For a long moment, there is nothing but a heavy silence between them, and it's clear to see that his mind is moving, gears turning, as he mulls over what she has said and the events of that day. Elesia... she had been a child. An innocent, perhaps sheltered child with happy prospects for her future. The thought of becoming clergy, and all of her future dreams being rendered moot by virtue of disappearing into what the 'cross' represented -- in this case... that heavy burden...

...It had been too much for her. And, in his eyes...

"I wonder if what I see now... is more like a ghost."

Is 'Elesia' the ghost of the past? Or is 'Ciel' simply a ghost of something that no longer exists -- a girl whose dreams were stolen, her innocent love and hopes for the future taken from her somehow? Something had placed her on a different path, one that had hardened, detached, and irrevocably changed her.

"People change. On that point, you're right..." They can change; they can grow, learn... evolve. Hopefully, that growth leads them to becoming better people. It might not always be true, but... in this case... what had 'change' done to her? What had forced her to shut herself off, to become the woman who smiles, the woman with ever-observant eyes who sees everything and gives away nothing? Seclusion; mistrust; vacancy. In her eyes, these are things he didn't want to see, but her actions in comparison to the girl she had been, once, suggested the path of that growth and where it had taken her. How terrible what she endured had to be in order to close her off this way. It was to survive -- to cope, to keep going. Of that, he's sure.

"...but we can never become so heartless as to forget pain. Past pain, pain in our present... pain in the future. If it troubled that girl so deeply, then it means that somewhere, that wound still bleeds because it was so great it could never go away completely. If you think that isn't true, you've convinced yourself to become dangerously numb. But you understand that numbness doesn't stop a bleeding wound."

The pain is still there. She simply... fails to acknowledge it. And it will keep bleeding, until it's bled her dry of things she wouldn't want to lose... until it becomes a vulnerability in an even greater sense than the one it would have been had she acknowledged it rather than turning an ignorant eye to its existence.

This... he understands...

And this precisely is what made her wary in the first place. That he's going to read too deeply into this, that he's going to take hold of it and never leave her in peace with her own affairs until he reaches a conclusion he's satisfied with - something that she's rather certain she will be unable to abide by.

Ah, she's been titled "Daughter of the Serpent". She's also been called a hollow and discarded shell before. It may actually be difficult, to say whether he's more right or more wrong with such a forward declaration that almost sounded like an accusation.

The change is subtle, but her demeanor hardens.

"If you are implying that gaining awareness to the world is synonymous to becoming hollow, then I ask that you please not speak with such callous presumptuousness again, Father. The past of a person does shape up their present, and that in turn, their future as well. One's motives and drives are formed through things they've experienced, let it stem from pain or something else. I don't see the point of you insisting on that factor in particular, however. What are you really trying to say-- that I am?"

For a rare instance, she opts for a direct approach. It did grate on her, his analogies with the 'bleeding' wound. ...And what if it'll just heal on its own no matter how many times it's made to bleed again? What if it's impossible for it to ever go dry? Does being capable of displaying emotional numbness even matter, when it's something very few knew her capable of anyway? How can he determine what's 'dangerous' for her or not, when he's just known her for a few short months?

Nevertheless, she's also aware that these were all minor irritations that only reflected her own frustrations. Not directed at him personally, but at how circumstances have played her once again - she never had any luck her whole life. He just happened to know enough, possessed the personality traits to insist, and had the misfortune to be there at the wrong time. This is the result, what she wanted to avoid from the start. ...At least she could still continue to maintain a solid front. Not a ripple of her thoughts make it to the surface, though the conversation is undeniably starting to weight her down, little by little.

To him, it isn't a matter of whether or not she is strong; she could be the single strongest woman to have ever graced this town in its entirety, and he would still be concerned for her now. This is a 'danger' that afflicts all; there is no single human being who could possibly safely shut themselves off from themselves. From their past, their pain -- numbness is not 'safe' and it never will be. It's merely trading one pain for another, and fooling yourself into believing that it's gone. Perhaps it's even more dangerous than the first pain had been... the things you can convince yourself when you are so numb can be frightening.

Very frightening.

Despite the hardness of her stance, the solid stance she's posturing against him -- the sharper edge to her words that would no doubt normally have him cowing in surrender to her point, he's standing his ground as well. There is, perhaps, a more uncharacteristic solidity in his eyes in return.

"'Hollow' isn't the word I would use at all. Do you think I'd suggest a thing like that of you? I know you're anything but, even if I believe that perhaps... you might think it would be easier to move forward if you felt nothing at all. Is that true?"

He takes additional steps toward her, away from the door -- halting before her so he can look properly down into her face with seriousness. Is she the 'beaten dog?' Now, with a little constriction in his chest at the thought, he wonders.

Stubborn fool...

She doesn't so much as twitch with his approach. He might be significantly taller than she is, but her posture remains rigid and her eyes stay hard.

"That would be convenient for any human being, but no. To amount something as nothing is to ignore everything that it ever stood for." The reply is short, concise, and to the point. She's not going to elaborate more though, the last thing he needs is context.

He had no intention of intimidating her with their proximity -- but he wanted to look into her eyes close, to see everything he could from sharp blue. She had learned to make herself near impossible to read; he would take every little cue he could get when attempting to work around her professional poker face.

"I don't believe it's a matter of convenience. If anything... to lose your feelings would be to lose that humanity, wouldn't it?"

A monster can cut themselves off from their heart and feel nothing. A human does not have that 'luxury,' as some might consider it. It's true that it's a double edged sword -- on one side, the ability to feel love, happiness... the other, unexplainable anguish and grief. Guilt, and pain. The human heart is a beautiful thing and it is one Abel has always admired. If she were to cut herself off from any one aspect of it, she is only hurting herself... that is his concern.

"I don't want to look into your face and believe that you believe your life... your memories, and anything that you've endured is simply... something to be left behind you and ignored, even when brought up this way. To think that it brings you pain -- even if that pain surfaced as disquiet to a woman who's probably spent too many years burying it away -- enough to keep you away from here to avoid what you knew would happen when we met..."

...His concern is justified, isn't it? She can't deny it's hurt her. It has... and it is, now. He believes that.

"That is true too, feeling pain is proof that one is alive." She responds unflinchingly, staring back at him without showing a hint of emotion. Physically, the statement is scientifically proven. No matter how many times a person feels bodily harm, the nerves will always register it. Suppressing one's reaction and building up a threshold of endurance are doable things, but constructing an immunity is impossible. And mentally...

Well, that one is more complex, but it could work on a similar principle.

"I stayed away to avoid questions, Father. I've misjudged and made a mistake. I should have come sooner, but I can't unwind time, neither can I force you to change how you feel about this."

She briefly pauses.

"But if I must clarify, I'd like to ask you two questions first. May I?"

Stayed away to avoid questions?

No... maybe part of that were true, but -- if she truly wanted to avoid his questions and put him at ease to avoid any further digging, then it would have been more effective to beat him to the pass. To show up the next day like nothing had happened, and to answer his questions unflinchingly. To reassure him that nothing was the matter, taking time was only working against her. It would be necessary for her own benefit rather than in some effort to avoid him and his potential curiosity. She knows that; he knows that.

So...

Clarify? He pauses -- hesitates... but in the end, it's inevitable that he nods agreeably. If she has something to ask, then... he'd humor her, of course.

Ultimately, she's human. Maybe that was all there was to it, why she's failed as she has.

"When we first met, how did I introduce myself as?"

He may be able to see where this is going. ...Nevertheless, she'll have to explain the reasoning.

Ah. He has an inkling, but -- he knows better than to think that she would go down this route without intent, and he'll see her through to the end. If nothing else, he certainly owes her that much.

"...as Ciel, Sister."

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[closed] the distinction between the past, present, and future

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i am the slowest....... /hangs head

i throught we went over this before we can just be the slow brigade forever and etc!!

BUT. /sniffs... quietly.......

no buts /pats and pushes on with

TRUCKIN' ON...!!