crescentview | ( summer catch-all! )

You really are so smart! ( sparkle sparkle! )

There's certainly no country of France where I'm from. That's really cool! The square in question is 'French kissing' ... wow, I'm so curious to know what that's like! The fact that people in the country of France kiss in such a unique way that it has its own term is super cool to me!

( SHE IS GENUINELY SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS.... )

[He pulls such a face. Like, really he should have known it would be something stupid and nonsensical. What else would it be? If not French Kissing, Make French Fries With Your Neighbor. Blisteringly moronic. He closes his eyes at the sheer delight to her about something so stupid, inhaling slowly and counting backward from ten as he exhales.]

That's one of the times the "French" part makes no sense, there's no technical explanation for it. It isn't anything different, the term was simply coined by Americans, likely due to French women being more bold in their public displays of affection. It merely refers to kissing with tongue. [He hates that he has this knowledge, but-- such is the life of a chronic Redditor. He has to try really hard to not sound annoyed relaying this information-- it's not Amber's fault she doesn't understand and it's a stupid thing to get childishly excited over.]

Ohhhh ...

( she blushes. )

Wow. That's ... pretty intense! Jeez louise. I would've had no idea what I was getting in for by the name alone ... ( it's kind of cute the way that she gets all flustered over the smallest things. she's charming and naïve (for now), while she has had some experiences in life, facing them head on is very interesting.

especially when it's a very cute boy sharing all of this information with her. )

It isn't, really. Is that not common practice where you're from?

[He quirks an eyebrow. Just because Americans added "French" as a moniker to certain inexplicable things like kissing with tongue and sodium-saturated fried potato strings doesn't make them anything special. At least not to him, and he does realize he's an outlier.]

I-I mean, uh ... I guess? We just call it "making out" ... I've done it before, once or twice maybe? Um, but, it's been a long time. ( she scratches the back of her neck again. ) Haven't had the best time dating. I'd like to get good at it, though.

( "it sounds really romantic!" she thinks, but doesn't say. )

[He's still curled over his knees, giving her a somewhat bland expression.]

I have to hazard that you're undermining yourself, Amber.

Undermining? ( she tilts her head. ) How so?

You realize that being "good" at something like dating or kissing is purely subjective, yes? It's one of those "all in the eye of the beholder" scenarios. Being "good" at something that only involves you and the other entity you are engaged with is more a matter of confidence than actual practice.

[He's trying to tell her she's probably fine without calling her attractive again when they're literally sitting on his bed and he's having a minor heterosexual crisis.]

( Akechi probably doesn't realise it, but his explanations like this are dropping more and more "attractive" points in his pond. unlike him, Amber is a very action-oriented person - she functions by physically taking control in any area she strives to improve on. whether it be errands, archery or duties within the knights of favonius - she jumps straight into action in order to better herself. she doesn't take the time to sit around and think about it ... and as she is becoming more and more exposed to the way he thinks, she likes it.

a lot. )

That does make sense. ( she smiles at him. ) Y'know, I really love hearing you explain things to me. I kinda realise I'm a very action oriented person. If I want to get good at something, my first thought is, "I must practise straight away!" but ...

Well, I think my past has a lot to do with that. I became orphaned, my Grandfather vanished, and ... well, it was all up to me to keep his platoon in the Knights of Favonius alive. It fell apart after he disappeared. If I didn't jump into action as I did back then, the Outriders would've disbanded, along with my Grandfather's last living legacy. ( look at her! using her brain! she's trying. ) There's a lot more to it than that, but, to cut a very long story short, I had to push myself extremely hard to get where I am today. Without even realising it, I think this has been mixing in with how I view romantic tasks ... like kissing, for example. All the weight of responsibility was on my shoulders when I was left all alone. I thought, "if I don't do this, then it's all over for good."

Maybe I just need to relax. But it's harder than I thought.

[His whole body goes cold at the words "I became orphaned", and stays that way. He feels sick, suddenly. Swallowing, careful to make the gesture look natural and not like the desperate attempt of a man drowning to keep air in his lungs, he curls his knees closer to himself, letting them knock into his collar bones and curling further around them. His expression is equal parts severe and miles away as he digests her story, and he closes his eyes as he takes hold of his own elbows, his eyebrows creasing together as he grips them.]

[He takes measured breaths.]

["It was all up to me to keep his platoon in the Knights of Favonius alive." He draws in a breath slowly, eyes still closed, holds it. Counts backwards. Ten.]

["If I didn't jump into action as I did back then, the Outriders would've disbanded, along with my Grandfather's last living legacy." Seven. Six. He exhales, his lungs burning, and she circles back to how hard she had to push herself, and that it's why she takes things like kissing so seriously she could die from it. Air leaves his lungs in a rush and he laughs, an ugly sound that crackles its way up his spine and sounds dry, like more of a cough by the time it's in the air between them.]

[He sits back, the low collar on his pajama top displaying how prominent his collar bones are. He's skinny, he's too skinny, and it adds to the way he looks like a fucking scarecrow as he leans his shoulder blades into the headboard behind him and turns to look at her sidelong. He looks sickly, suddenly, ugly in an existential sort of exhaustion he'd somehow withheld inside himself until his ugly, wretched little laugh shattered the pretty veneer he was wearing to look human.]

Children who are forced to look after themselves at a young age tend to grow up with outlandish views, with oversimplifications. With a desperate need to do things properly, or to know everything they possibly can about stupid things like French Kissing and the origin of why it's called that in the first place. [It's admitting he's like her, without admitting it outright, because he can't do anything in a straightforward way, he's too afraid.]

( oh ... his reaction. it surprises her a little the way he sinks in like that. he is rather scrawny - but it is by no means unattractive to her. all that Amber can wager from such an event is that he may know how she feels. she sits up, visually interested through her body language in paying attention to him. )

Children like ... ( she pauses, and considers her next words carefully. but ultimately, she delivers it simply: )

You and me?

[He makes a wordless sound, nodding before closing his eyes again and sitting still outside of breathing. It's shallow, like he's afraid if he breathes too deeply something will catch, but really he's just afraid of creating anymore sound, right then. Everything is so silent it's deafening, there's a clock somewhere on the wall on the lower level that he thinks he can hear ticking.]

[He'd like, he thinks, to throw himself out the window about four paces to his right, for entertaining his next course of action. Instead, he moves his head from the wall, stretches his legs out, watches the way his skin moves over his knobby knees.]

My mother killed herself when I was eight. [He raises his left arm, trailing the fingers of his right in a slow track along the inside of his left wrist. He doesn't explain further-- Amber will either understand, or she won't, and he thinks it kinder if he doesn't explain in case she doesn't.] I was in foster care until fourteen, biding my time for emancipation. I became my own guardian, and have been ever since. No one to answer to, no one to answer for.

( Amber blinks once or twice as she digests what she has been told - and her expression falls into one of compassion while she listens. their experiences do not align entirely, but he likely knows the feeling of loneliness that comes coupled with family loss. this may only scratch the surface, as far as she is concerned, because she had no idea about Akechi's mother's background or what she was like.

respectfully, she won't press him on the matter, but she will try and offer a gentle form of compassion. one that does not pry or patronise. )

... I'm so sorry. I have no idea how you must feel, having gone through that ...

( but, as far as the isolation goes, she can relate. )

I hear you. I don't know what you went through, but I know a thing or two about being lonely as well without any family around. ( ... )

... Do you want to come sit with me? ( she just has this urge to be physically closer to him. )

[He laughs again at her question, drawing his fingers up the inside of his wrist again, pressing his nail into the skin to leave a red line that fades quickly. He does it again, then a third time, tracing the same line.]

She killed herself because of me, Amber. I'm not a good choice for sitting companions.

( while she could've anticipated any response from him, this isn't what she was expecting to hear. Amber watches as he picks at his skin, noticing a habit belonging to a frustrated and hurt child. or in his case at present - a hurting adult.

for a moment, she contemplates on what to say next. insisting that he is fine as he is that would invalidate his trauma concerning the matter. better yet, he may not want to explain things further. although she feels inconsiderate, she desires to know more about him, even his past - no matter how unsavoury it might be.

after all, Collei killed several people. Amber has seen this kind of pain before, even if it looks different. just as Collei's killings had a story, his likely does too. listening may be her biggest form of compassion to him at this moment, so she decides to offer that. )

You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. But, please know this, Akechi. I will listen to anything you have to say. Even if you don't think you're worthy of sitting next to me ... you're worth having your voice heard.

Edited 2023-01-19 04:21 (UTC)

[He drones a monotonous sound, a hum to acknowledge he heard her, his face starkly blank. He isn't looking at anything, more of looking through the foot of the bed, the way where he sat at the corner has wrinkled the blanket. He processes her words one at a time, sentence for sentence, slowly like he's suddenly lost the ability to understand the language she speaks.]

["You're worth having your voice heard."]

[He laughs, suddenly, a bark of explosive sound, and curls his knees back toward himself, huddling around them. His voice is pitched higher, bordering on hysteria, stretched thin like a balloon he keeps forcing air into.] That's funny. You're funny, Amber, you really ought to think a little harder before you make judgments like that. [It's rude on purpose. Nothing good ever stays, because he destroys it, so it's better to do so quickly so he has less of a chance to miss it when it's gone.] You have no idea who I am, what I've done. No one here does. I literally just told you my mother killed herself because of me. When I was eight. I'm nineteen now, likely, that's eleven more years of unwanted life because I'm too goddamn vicious to give up and die.

[He's tapping his fingertips together rhythmically, thumb to his index finger, to his middle, ring finger, pinky. Back to the ring finger, middle, index. Back. Forth. His expression his twisted and pained, like his stomach hurts, but he sneers at her anyway, dropping his tone to a condescending murmur.] And you're soft enough to say I'm worth having my voice heard.

( of course, she should have expected some pushback to her support. god knows how long it took before Collei accepted any help at all when she was dealing with the effects of her fatui experimentation.

but she doesn't balk. not by his sharp words that come wielded from a lifetime of hurt, or the way that he viscously rejects her compassion. these behaviours don't come from a place of hatred - she can warrant that much, even without amazing analytical powers like his own. Amber can detect familiarity, a pattern, in how he speaks and acts.

there is nothing she can do except for offer him patience. sticking to her guns, she repeats her initial statement. )

You're right. I don't have any idea who you are, or what you've done. But I won't go back on my words.

You have a story. One you don't have to tell me - not today, not ever. When I was alone and suffering, all I wanted was one person to listen to me so that I could stop blaming myself for the circumstances I landed in.

I will be someone you can confide in, if you want. But it doesn't have to be now. Just know that there is someone who will hear you.

[He expected... Maybe even hoped that she would be upset. They'd filled the square, they'd shared a bed. Their mutual benefit made, it was fine if she left. It was better if she left, certainly for her.]

[So when she squares her shoulders and persists, his eyebrows crease together and he scowls, looking away from her and shaking his head.] You're a fool, then. [Only two people before Amber have really tried, and he's given them the same lip. The same insistence he isn't worth it, that they're stupid for trying. He'll take it to his grave, no matter how much he craves for their feeble pleasantries to be true.]

[He folds tighter around his knees.] Unlike you, I've no one to blame for my circumstances but myself, and I prefer it that way anyhow. No one to answer to, no one to answer for. I make my own choices, and most of them have been as wretched as the rest of me. You'd do well to choose those you aim to hear more wisely.

( she may be a fool, but she's a fool that won't give up on him. )

I know I might sound naïve and clueless to you about pressing matters, but ... my compassion doesn't come from empty words and false promises.

A friend of mine from back home suffered a great ordeal at the hands of a criminal organisation. They injected her with poison - one which would take the form of a monster and control her actions and her thoughts. She killed several people, and tried to kill both myself and Sir Kaeya.

In retaliation to this attack, Sir Kaeya tried to kill her. But I ran in to save her. During her attempted killing of us, I could hear her. Over and over again she said, "I don't want this" and "this isn't me." If I didn't listen back then, she wouldn't be here with us. We wouldn't have learned about what brought her to the point she ended up in. That's when we investigated the experiments, and she started a new life.

( Amber takes a breath. )

... I'm only sharing this story because I want you to understand that I don't say things empty-handed. I may seem like an air-headed optimist, but I believe that everyone who is hurting has the right to be heard. The ugliest truth cannot scare me away from you.

["Sir Kaeya" is funny, even if he doesn't feel like laughing about it in the moment. He considers spitting at her that her "Sir Kaeya" tossed his salad like romaine, but it proves no point so he just listens.]

[And at the end of it... Well, she's still an air-headed optimist, really. Saving people who kill, whether they want it or not... He can't deny that the story strikes uncomfortably close to home, except that he'll swear day in and day out that he chose his lot. He killed those people, he chose to kill those people. He could have said no, and he never did, blinded by his childish plot for revenge.]

[He flinches, when she's done, curls inward. His shoulders hunch up to his ears and he tangles himself into a miserable little heap against the headboard, scowling.] I'm not a child with a stubbed toe. [Sure is as petulant as one, though.]

I know you aren't.

( it's almost funny to hear such an analogy, especially since she would argue that what he's gone through is a lot more severe than a childhood bump. at the very least, he seems to have softened a bit, which has relieved her for the time being. Amber gazes over at him with her bright golden eyes, smiling kindly. )

You're not a child that I'm minding. You're my friend.

[His eyes swivel abruptly to her, startled and scarlet, and he looks strangely hunted by the suggestion they're friends. The word is like a bullet fired, to him, and it echoes in his head for a long time. He stares, waits for her to think better of the statement, waits for her to get off the bed and leave anyway. Just kidding, she'd say. This is too much. He was always too much.]

[But she doesn't, and it sours his stomach further, so he closes his eyes on a wince, hugging his knees tighter still.] That's stupid, you barely know me.

Hmmm ...

( she hums, fondly recalling a game she played with him not too long ago with a smile on her face while she rubs her chin in thought. there's a playful sparkle in her eyes while she recites what she can remember. )

Your name is Goro Akechi. You're from a land called Tokyo. You're acquainted with Sir Kaeya and Master Diluc. You love cycling and climbing. You like coffee just like I do, and you don't have a specific favourite kind. ( Amber grins. ) See? I know some things. I'm looking forward to getting to know more, too.

[This time he sighs, and a bit of tension bleeds out of his coiled frame. He opens his eyes just slightly, staring at his elbow for a while before he shifts again, setting his chin on his arm and giving her an impassive look.]

...given my conduct for the evening that seems like a terrible idea on your part.

Good thing I'm a grown woman who can make her own choices.

( she will keep petting this tiny hedgehog of a man no matter how many spikes he points at her!! )

outrider amber!

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