05-25-2012, 04:30 PM
"I like Inferni."
The statement was spoken with unerring simplicity and Alegria allowed herself an ambiguous shrug - carelessness, the mark of her usual nonchalance, or something else? Or disregard? Understanding, perhaps, the knowledge there was no other way Vesper would ever have stayed? It was unclear, but Alegria usually was, and she was not about to clarify. But they'd already shifted to another topic, skating over her small gesture. Vesper probably hadn't even noticed - not enough to wonder.
Their eyes met, Alegria's like lightened, bleached-out versions of Vesper's own, the pale ones calm and closed off, walling off nothing, the blue ones vaguely searching for several intense seconds. Alegria regarded her with impassiveness, neither liking nor disliking, an utter lack of bias not out of desire but out of nature.
"I shouldn’t have killed your brother."
Alegria gave another shrug, this time clearly dismissing the statement. It wasn't that she disagreed, for she would not have wished death upon Oliver, yet Vesper's words were uncalled for. "Should, shouldn't, doesn't sound much like how I remember you," she said.
“He was just a stupid kid. I should’ve let him go and driven him off.” Alegria took in the small gesture, the flick of her ear as she laid it against the back of her head, a gesture that stood out grotesquely in the light of the absence of the other one, and did not react, waiting for Vesper to finish. A friend would have cut her off, reassured her and told her it was done anyway. Alegria did not: she let Vesper finish, did not attempt to pull her out of her regret. “All of us were stupid kids. I shouldn’t have killed him, but I did, and I did most of you brats a goddamn favor.” In turn, Alegria did not attempt to dispel the rationalization that Vesper established to counter the rue.
"Bravo! Bravo!" She glanced away now, in musing, shaking her head as if agreeing to a silent thought, breathing the words out like an idea that had clambered across her mind. "You freed us all," she added, still on that hushed, wondered tone, the tone that sounded so thoughtful, so well-meaning. And though in the end there was irony behind it all, that did not stop the statement from sounding, and, when you scrabbled close to the root of it all, true.
The statement was spoken with unerring simplicity and Alegria allowed herself an ambiguous shrug - carelessness, the mark of her usual nonchalance, or something else? Or disregard? Understanding, perhaps, the knowledge there was no other way Vesper would ever have stayed? It was unclear, but Alegria usually was, and she was not about to clarify. But they'd already shifted to another topic, skating over her small gesture. Vesper probably hadn't even noticed - not enough to wonder.
Their eyes met, Alegria's like lightened, bleached-out versions of Vesper's own, the pale ones calm and closed off, walling off nothing, the blue ones vaguely searching for several intense seconds. Alegria regarded her with impassiveness, neither liking nor disliking, an utter lack of bias not out of desire but out of nature.
"I shouldn’t have killed your brother."
Alegria gave another shrug, this time clearly dismissing the statement. It wasn't that she disagreed, for she would not have wished death upon Oliver, yet Vesper's words were uncalled for. "Should, shouldn't, doesn't sound much like how I remember you," she said.
“He was just a stupid kid. I should’ve let him go and driven him off.” Alegria took in the small gesture, the flick of her ear as she laid it against the back of her head, a gesture that stood out grotesquely in the light of the absence of the other one, and did not react, waiting for Vesper to finish. A friend would have cut her off, reassured her and told her it was done anyway. Alegria did not: she let Vesper finish, did not attempt to pull her out of her regret. “All of us were stupid kids. I shouldn’t have killed him, but I did, and I did most of you brats a goddamn favor.” In turn, Alegria did not attempt to dispel the rationalization that Vesper established to counter the rue.
"Bravo! Bravo!" She glanced away now, in musing, shaking her head as if agreeing to a silent thought, breathing the words out like an idea that had clambered across her mind. "You freed us all," she added, still on that hushed, wondered tone, the tone that sounded so thoughtful, so well-meaning. And though in the end there was irony behind it all, that did not stop the statement from sounding, and, when you scrabbled close to the root of it all, true.