golisolation | 💀 MoM IC INBOX 💀

[She's right, and he knows she's right, but all he wants to do is just sit there with her. Even if it feels odd to be so affectionately needy like this, but who can honestly blame him.]

...Yeah. I'm sure after bein' in the factory for as long as I was, I ain't smellin' too great.

[His senses might have adapted to the smell, but he's sure hers hasn't, not with how briefly she was there. With a parting squeeze, he stands up--slowly and gingerly. Placing his hands on his thighs to help himself rise to his full height, and not without a grunt.

He must look and sound like an old man, but there's no helping that right now.]

If y'wanna kick it here, you can. But I get it if you got more important shit to do.

[He's not saying it to sound shitty or self-deprecating, more so he's just aware she's a busy lady and...well, there's fucking zombies and ultra beasts still.]

I'll stick around for a bit.

[she sits up a bit straighter at that, smoothing her skirt out as she nods.] What little work I have to touch tonight...I can do so from here. It won't be a problem.

[and in any case, she's not ready to leave. she'd worry, leaving...and wonder if she'd missed some sign of danger in him she wasn't looking for.

while fiddling with the buckle of Falchion's shoulder-belt:] So, don't worry! I'll be here.

[There's a soft edge to his features when she says she'll hang around. It's a comfort, one he wasn't fully aware he needed, and yet here they are.]

Make yourself at home. There's—[Oh god, is there even anything in his fridge? When was he last here...?]—something in there, probably. There's beer, at least.

[Not that she's probably had that before, but he offers it all the same. With that, though, he starts up the stairs and...immediately missteps and nearly falls down them. He fortunately catches the handrail, while his other hand catches a step with a stuttered sound of surprise and a muttered curse.

IT'S FINE, HE'S FINE!! If anything, it's merely his pride that's damaged here...]

[OH.................................OKAY..............

Lucina startles at the misstep, hopping up briefly as she gawks over at him, red-faced on his behalf. she considers going over to help but...that might...be the opposite of helping...and instead sits down and pretends she didn't see that, though her red face and ears give that away plainly, so she looks pointedly elsewhere while she hears him creep up the remaining stairs. poor man...were it her, she'd be mortified, and not want anyone to speak of it, honestly. so she won't!

instead, she'll busy herself with setting Falchion up securely against the wall nearest her and settling back down to go through her Aegis-related notes and mails. with Jacob gone again, it's been a lot of scrambling to keep the back-end stuff right...and herself, trying to train herself to keep a good face up front.

she doesn't have that great an expression when next he appears, herself slumped back in the cushions with one foot resting idly on the edge of the coffee table, her mouth screwed up in a displeased pucker as she thumbs through her phone. it's a look she blinks out of as she sits up, rubbing one of her eyes.]

Aa, better? I hope? At least, hot water would've helped all that extra tension...

[Honestly, Lucina is too good for Guzma and his fragile ego. He doesn't even look over at her while he catches himself and works his way as quickly as he can up the stairs. Fortunately no other stupid missteps happen, even while in the shower. No slipping and dying today!!

Either way, when he comes back down, he's just in a pair of sweats with a towel around his shoulders, half of ir being used to rub at his still damp hair as he appraises her. It's true, the shower did wonders, even if there's still the underlying ache, but he's getting used to it almost. It's easier to ignore, at least.

Her expression when he came down, however? A lot less easier to ignore.]

Yeah, it helped. [He does a small upward nodding gesture towards her, his eyes falling to her phone.]

Everythin' cool?

Y...yeah...

[blinking out blurriness, Lucina looks Guzma up and down as he approaches, getting a bit red in the face. where did his shirt go.

she forcibly peels her eyes away to glare at her phone with more intensity than necessary, sitting upright, foot slipping off the coffee table and landing with a thud on the floor.]

Yes. That is--no...more than I expected. I'm still learning how to navigate these sorts of things...maintaining an understanding of public opinion and climate are more important than I realized. [her eyes wince.] Because I...rarely gave it much thought when it wasn't a public I could see with my own two eyes in person at any given time, I suppose...

[that's not very becoming of a princess, she figures. yet...how much training did she really get before things went belly-up in Ylisse?]

[He smirks a little, catching that reddening and how she forces herself to look away from him. She can try to hide it, but he knows, Lucina. He knows.

Stopping just before the couch and beside the coffee table, watching her as she explains. So, she's frustrated by...social media? By what the faceless masses think of her? He kinda gets it, after all, he's sorta after the opposite public opinion, but also...it's not like she can't keep up her heroic shit if people, for some bizarre reason, hated her for it.]

...So, what? You got a poor image or somethin'? I know Maurtia Falls ain't all up in you hero types, not that I can blame 'em, but what's it really matter?

I thought you weren't in this for the glory.

[It's fortunate that Guzma is the last person to give a shit about what is or isn't becoming of a princess, huh?]

[it's kind of nice that #loselucina seems to be an unknown to Guzma, but it's not something she can avoid, if the topic is of opinions...and the public-having of them.]

I'm not, of course. But completely isolating one's self from all voices...even the ones who don't wish me well...I don't think that's the right way about it.

[she peers back over his way, but only briefly. why...doesn't he have a shirt on...while discussing this.]

V-voices that mean only to do me harm and nothing more...I can't do much about that. But there may be things out there I can help with...

[Guzma does haunt around social media sites, but he's not one to care too much about trending topics. He's more likely to troll people by pretending to be a fucking flat Earther or something similar, than anything else actually productive.]

...Yeah, that's true enough. [a beat] That's somethin' I like about you. Willin' to listen, even if it ain't what you wanna be hearin'.

[God Lucina, it's like you've never seen a topless man before!!]

But I don't see what issue anyone's got with you specifically. Ain't like you're some pompous upstart or nothing. But I guess anyone'll be petty about anything, huh?

[As he says this, he settles himself onto the couch besides her. Resting his arms on the back of it as he gets comfortable.]

[yeah well!!! well those were! different circumstances!!! she never wanted to kiss any of those topless men before ok!!!!

in any case, her mouth tugs in a crooked frown as she scrolls through some things. it wouldn't do to show how pleased she was to hear such a blunt compliment, would it? she can flutter about that quietly to herself and stay on-task.]

There will always be petty things. I'm learning to better accept that much. Rather, I want to make sure I'm prepared for anything that might come at me at the next press conference... [regarding that incident... she sighs a little.] I don't want to be caught off-guard and left with nothing of merit to say.

[she'd already been working with Darin on learning to manage her temper while being grilled on things she deems nonsense, trying though it is. now that he's out of commission, Jacob gone, and the others lying low...it's more important than ever for her to put her best foot forward and speak for them with as much grace and placidity as she can muster.

...for, gods willing, a limit of eight to ten questions only.]

Press conference?

[Guzma almost sounds a little offended for her, that twist and scrunch of his face just adding to the reaction. Being a hero sure was a lot of annoying bullshit, huh? He's glad he's not wrapped up in all that mess, not that he's...be spared worse things living how he does, but...]

Y'all really gotta do that sorta crap? It seems so extra and pointless. I dunno how y'all put up with it.

[He says, as if he wouldn't love to have that sorta attention.]

[she smiles haplessly over at him, shrugging her shoulders up.]

If we didn't, we'd be doing everyone wrong, wouldn't we? Just lording our sense of authority over everyone without any chance for dialogue... that's never what it's been about.

[her expression gets a bit pained:] If I could, though...I'd do away with some of the, ah...the nonsense. [the shippers. the neckbeards. the parents who believe teens have never looked at a knife before.] I do find myself losing patience with a lot of it... But that's what training is for, right?

I guess so.

[He sounds a little distant at that, maybe a little bitter? It's not like having these press conferences stop those who do lord their sense of authority, so are they really helping?]

I dunno what kinda trainin' helps with that. [He shoots her a bit of a grin, but it only lasts a moment as his thoughts return to the other part of the conversation, his gaze drifting away from her.

The press conference, the doing right by others, all of that...]

But...y'know, back where I'm from, there were always the same sorta deal goin' on with the Kahunas. They had meetings and shit about the islands, and how we all were meant to go forward, big decisions, shit like that.

In a sense, they also did their fair share of "press conferences", where they always seemed like they were listening...but man, did shit never really change.

[Finally, he looks back to her, and when he levels the question, the tone isn't...accusatory or anything. Maybe more curious.]

I guess what I'm gettin' at is: how much of these press conferences are even real enough to insight change in y'all, and how much are just to temporarily save face?

[her eyebrows lift as she listens, keen on gleaning more of a sense of what his world was like -- his world, as he saw it and lived it, in any case. it's the only one he knows, after all! and it gives her a better sense of him.

her head tilts as she exchanges the look he gives her, and she briefly glimpses past him as she drifts off into thought. impulse would want her to come up with an answer right away, but...honestly? she can't think of something so succinct so quickly. one of the things she has to work on, especially if she's going to be on a podium answering to the press...]

I guess...it depends on what's happening at the time? [she tries to think back on ones she's sat in on, watching Jacob or Ash. ones where she wasn't the one standing there being peered at, being grilled.] If it's sharing information, maybe it's more one-sided...things we did, or...plan to do... Or if it's something after-the-fact...responding to questions.

[she glances down at her phone before closing the app out. her other hand at-rest in her lap drums fingers idly.]

Now that I think about it...a lot more of the new ideas...they come when it's more a group or a leader comes with the suggestion in-mind...

[Guzma's just bitter over authority figures or those who try to do "good" but really are fake as hell, and are just as self-serving and selfish as they pretend not to be. In Guzma's case, he doesn't lie nor front how self-serving he is, he owns it—well, at least in most respects, anyway. There's still stuff that he's keeping hidden, or trying to...]

Guess that makes sense. Think I just have a hard time believin' that sorta crap actually helps anything. Or that anyone actually listens. Always seemed more like a way to air excuses and sweep shit under the rug, than somethin' more productive.

[Well, Lucina does...and he supposes Darin does, in a way. There's Archie too, but Archie's different. Archie was like him, so he's been in Guzma's shoes, even if not entirely the same way.

He pauses a second, then gives Lucina a sheepish sort of stare.]

...Is there gonna be one about what happened?

[that sort of expression... it's weirdly cute? maybe because it's a new one to her. she blinks back at him blankly for a beat before her expression sobers.]

Ah...yes, most likely. Making an account of what our team did that day...that's to be expected.

[she shifts where she sits, ultimately leaning forward to put her phone on the coffee table.

Darin...he'd only just been delegated a co-commander. and then this...

she exhales, slumping back against the cushion behind her, rubbing at one of her arms as she looks out toward a window across the room.]

As more and more dangerous things pile up, I wonder how many chances there'll be to speak like that, though...

[she pauses only briefly before glancing back his way, her eyes wincing]

But--as for that. Don't...worry about that too much, alright? You were just as much a victim as any of the others...the force wouldn't hold you accountable for that. Nor any of your young companions...

[she wouldn't let them if they tried. she'd seen up close how lost in that state he was.]

[The expression doesn't last, instead it shifts to a moue when she reassures him that he wouldn't get intro trouble. It's not that he doesn't want to get into trouble, but...him being a victim in any sense, and it being discussed doesn't sit right with him. He doesn't like it at all.]

I ain't worried about us gettin' into trouble 'cos of all of that. I did what I did.

[There's a coldness to it, like he's just...accepting fault for what happened, even if it was beyond his control.]

But I ain't feelin' the idea of being made into a victim in this whole thing.

[He's got his pride, after all. He doesn't want his image being scuffed by something like that. He doesn't want people pitying him over what happened. Especially people he didn't even know.]

[did what he did? she frowns at that, shaking her head a little.]

You can't...own things you weren't in control of doing, Guzma. Even if it happened in your own skin...

[she grimaces, shifting a little where she sits as a bit of a chill creeps up her arms. recalling his state and the line of talk only leads her to remember that disaster on the moon with the scarabs -- the one in her.

this isn't about that, though.]

I'm only saying...what happened...isn't on you. It's on those things. That's all.

[Guzma scowls at that. He doesn't...like the idea that he didn't have control. Even if it's true. Even if...he wouldn't have done what he had to all of them otherwise. It didn't sit right with him, any way he looked at this. Either he did shit that he wasn't alright with doing, or he lost control and was made into some helpless victim. It twisted his stomach in knots the more he mulled it over, and he hated every second of it.

Ultimately, he's just not sure how to even cope with what happened, so he's trying to approach it like he does anytime he does something bad or wrong in the eyes of others: own it and act aloof about it. Like it didn't matter, it happened, and so what? Life sucks, it's cruel, and so he's cruel in turn!

But there's something more here, something...deeper that's getting to him. His guilt, because while Nihilego latched onto him and did what it did, it still was running off of his desires. Things that he actively wants to do...that anger, that violence. Sure, they were extremes, but they were still part of him. Had the Nihilego grabbed onto someone like Lucina, he hasn't a doubt in his mind it wouldn't have gotten so ugly.]

How can you just say that—after what I done to you?

[He basically bursts it out without thinking, but he can't right now. Not when this is making him feel...like this. Whatever this is. He's not even sure.

Angry? Vulnerable? Humiliated?]

I ain't denying that thing had a hand in what happened, but...I ain't innocent in this.

[she sits up a little at that, her face getting warm, partly out of alarm, and partly out of a natural indignation at being balked at. holding her tongue for a moment, her fingers curl tightly in her lap.

what he'd done to her...

he remembers? or just...assumes? how lucid was he? was it really that similar to being controlled by the scarab, then? watching herself move without any regard to her own wishes...

she shifts so that she sits facing him a bit more directly, her eyes sharpening as she searches his expression for more than what his words offer up. it's way too easy to imagine those black lines running down his face, and...she doesn't like that. not at all.

nor the way he seems so keen to wear the burden of blame.]

...What do you mean by that? [does he know what he means by that?]

[His expression is hard as he stares at her, his jaw clenched. He doesn't even notice that he's gripping the back of the couch as hard as he is, his body tense as he mulls over how to even answer her. While he may have had foggy and disjointed memories at first, as time went on, and he started to regain himself...so too did the memories start to fall into place. They became more clear, and the images far more vivid.

What he said. What he did. What it felt like.

For all there was fear that grasped him far harder than any fear previously felt, there too was...excitement. Enjoyment. Pleasure. All of it felt so incredible and freeing. Everything he felt was so much more intense. All of his emotions were cranked to 11, but he didn't feel anything like guilt. Nothing mattered but his survival and his deepest desires, which seemed so much more attainable.

It was less like he was watching himself do these awful things against his own wishes, and more like he was convinced that these things were his wishes. He was made to enjoy them. Even now, as he recalls what happened, there's a part of him that still remembers how incredible it all felt. Even if he knows it's not what he wanted (at least in as much as hurting those who were trying to save him), and it isn't what he would have done otherwise...there's still the fact he knows he found pleasure in it all, and maybe that's what has him so conflicted and guilty.

Finally, he breaks eye contact with her, his gaze falling to the coffee table, before he closes them with a grimace.]

...It ain't like that thing implanted those desires into me, y'know. I—Don't get me wrong, I didn't wanna...I didn't wanna beat you down like I did, or my team, but...

[That part. That was something he didn't enjoy. There was no pleasure in that.]

Wantin' to destroy everything? Wantin' to crush anyone in my way?

[He looks to her, his expression...conflicted.]

That's all me—that thing just freed me.

[If by freed he means robbed him of a crucial part of himself so that the other part of him ran free, then sure.]

Edited 2019-10-22 03:37 (UTC)

That... [again, the impulse to cut in without a full answer, and again, she stops short, her expression pinched.

she shakes her head a little.]

Even what you just said doesn't add up, Guzma... The things you want and...don't want.

[without thinking, she reaches over and puts a hand on his knee, leaning so she can peer up at him and keep any downcast looks from straying too far from her.]

Whatever it pulled from you? Isn't...all of you. Do you understand? You aren't so simple. No one is...

[Guzma's face sours when she calls him out on his contradictions. Of course what he meant was that he wanted to crush almost anyone in his way. He didn't want to crush her or his team, hell...almost anyone who came to help, but...

His eyes fall to the hand on his knee, and it takes some restraint to not put his hand on hers, instead just letting it stay there undisturbed. His gaze flicks back to her, particularly when she leans in to peer at him.]

...I know I ain't so simple.

[Which is something he's said before, huh? That his ambitious, his beliefs, what he's fighting for, it's all not so simple. So then, why is it he's trying to make himself seem so simple? Seem worse than he is?

The answer being that he's scared, and running away is what he does best. Pushing people away and running the moment he's out of their grasp. His expression twists with conflicted emotions as he tries to sort his thoughts, but as usual they're so jumbled and everywhere, it's...taxing to try.]

But! It don't change the facts. Even if there's more to me than that, it don't really matter, do it? Not when it felt so...good.

[His eyes quickly dart away from her as he says it, hints of shame in his tone that he's hates letting through.]

Ain't that damning enough? What sorta victim enjoys what happened to 'em?

[Sure doesn't seem like he's enjoying it much.]

[it sure doesn’t. Lucina may not be the keenest or most insightful person when it comes to empathy, but Guzma is wearing a lot of tells that contradict what he says, that’s plain to see. whether that’s plain truth, though? that’s where it gets murky.

when his eyes leave her, her fingers gently squeeze his knee, a quiet ask to come back.]

Why are you so ready to condemn yourself? Did you walk up and ask for that? Guzma— [she hesitates with a pained sound, trying to keep from getting ahead of her thoughts as they come.]

I don’t think feeling one way or the other is the key to guilt here... And if it were, you’re still absolved for how it torments you now. Right?

[she hesitates again, frowning deeply. her heart aches, wanting to be able to impress clarity so easily, but... she’s never been good at words like that. analysis, hypothesis... no, the best she can do is speak to what she sees. what she feels and believes...and hope it can be understood.

You were done wrong, no matter way you look at it.

[The squeeze is seemingly ignored at first. Like he's stubbornly resisting the request, but after a moment of her speaking, he looks at her again.

"Why are you so ready to condemn yourself?"

What a loaded question. He could answer her, but it'd be a production to do so, wouldn't it? Even some of it he isn't fully aware of, but sometimes it's just easier to be hated. Easier to take the fall.

There's one thing that twists his features again, making him scowl with irritation.]

Since when has being tormented ever absolved anything? Last I checked, that's just a part of life, yo. It don't free ya from nothin'.

[After all, wasn't it because of his torment that he lost everything? It certainly didn't help anything, it definitely didn't absolve him of anything then, so why should it now?]

I mean, you're right—I didn't ask for this—but...

[He stops short, trying to find the words, trying to find some sense in his logic in this. Which there isn't any; logic nor sense. Something that is becoming more and more apparent in how Lucina's talking him down and refuting his self-hatred fueled condemnation.

His eyes are scanning nothing in particularly, oscillating as he pries at his brain trying to find some sort of retort. Something—anything that can back his stance, but he's finding not a whole lot.

In fact, he's finding nothing. So, he's just stuck there looking lost.]

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