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voicemail
[An upbeat male voice comes on:]
Hey, it's Morgan! If you were expecting a girl, you picked the wrong picture. If not, then congratulations! But sorry too, because this means I've missed you. Leave a message!
[Beep.]
(( ooc: feel free to use this for face-to-face interactions as well! just leave a date and voice/action/etc. in the header. ))
Hey, it's Morgan! If you were expecting a girl, you picked the wrong picture. If not, then congratulations! But sorry too, because this means I've missed you. Leave a message!
[Beep.]
(( ooc: feel free to use this for face-to-face interactions as well! just leave a date and voice/action/etc. in the header. ))
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The struggle not to drop her is real. He automatically leans back and clutches her close in turn, and then accidentally drops his sword and tries not to stab himself in the foot. ]
Hrrk??
[ The strangled sound of unsureness and startlement. ]
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Still more disoriented than anything, she holds on. ]
M-Morgan?
[ There's a whole lot of variety in her tone, running through the gamut of emotions here. Hope that he's really alive and all right, worry that he's hurting or that he's more than prepared to try and gut her with the sword she'd had in her lap, some doubt, some grief, some confusion, some... residual bits of anger. But she waits to say more than that. ]
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Hey, Noire... You shouldn't sleep in the open.
[ Even being awake in the open seems like hazard now. ]
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Because she might as well put all of those lessons with Zohra to good use. ]
What were you thinking?!
[ Well, so much for being quiet. Noire's eyes are glistening, and there's color rising high in her cheeks-- because still, still, it yanks at her, this gods-damned frustration. ]
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He stumbles half a step, a hand automatically going to his jaw, and recovers slowly. When he looks back at her, wincing, it's difficult to meet her eyes again. But he does, knowing full well that he deserves anything she'll dish out at him. ]
I couldn't leave her... Not when she needed me most.
[ But where his voice held conviction on the battlefield, it now holds fatigue. ]
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You-- did you ever stop to think that maybe it didn't have to turn out that way? That you didn't have to try to kill Morgan, or fight any of us? Or did our bonds seriously mean that little to you, that you honestly thought this was the only way to help your mother??
[ The words come rapidly, swelling, rushing waves hurrying towards a waterfall. And all this time, Noire keeps her eyes on Morgan's face, because she wants him to see, she wants him to know-- ]
You could have talked to us! We could have helped, found a way to stop Grima without anyone having to die-- at least we would have tried everything before it came to that! I never wanted to be your enemy-- I never wanted to hurt you, and have you smile like it's fine this way because it wasn't fine!! Why--
[ Her voice hitches in a sob, raw and broken. ]
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Why couldn't you have believed in us a little more...?
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[ Her words cut deep and his expression bleeds, but his voice manages to barely wobble, level and reasoned and heartbroken. ]
How could I ask you to go easy on Grima? How could I ask you to do anything but try to kill him with everything you had? Killing him was the only right thing to do, but me... I couldn't.
[ He laughs once, disbelieving, because he wants to be a master tactician someday. How can he when he couldn't do such a simple thing? ]
And I couldn't ask you to have mercy, because Grima doesn't deserve it. But my mother... she deserves everything. Everything I have. Even if I made no difference. Even if it put me against impossible odds...
[ And the tears begin to roll down his cheeks, because this is the truth: ]
You don't need me. Not the way you needed to kill her.
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But Morgan's words abruptly throw all of those plans and wishes into ruin. She remembers her best friend, talking about tactics, understanding that lives would be lost. Pragmatic. And she remembers what she had done.
Noire's head shoots up, and even with tears streaking trails down too-pale cheeks, she stares at Morgan-- and then reaches out to place one gloved hand flat against his chest. ]
Don't you... [ she exhales, unsteadily. ] Don't you dare say that. Stop thinking that one thing is more important than the other, when that's not the case. When-- when Mother died-- [ and it's pathetic, how much the memory still slams against her throat, forcing her words to emerge thinly. ] I honestly wished it had been me. If it hadn't been for the others, I would have been lost.
... My friends mean the world to me-- and-- [ she drops her head, forcing the words out as fiercely as she can. ] So do you, Morgan! I need you, to be there for my best friend in a way that I can't! I need you to keep learning archery and to make me smile, because it's always been so easy to do around you! I need you to give us a stronger chance against Grima so your mother had more of a reason to come back to us! And I need you, because if you're not here, how am I supposed to tell you not to give up without trying everything and that-- that you're not alone??
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He listens.
And it's hard and it's painful to have the truth of his blindness laid before him, but he listens.
And when she's done, he has no answer. The silence between them makes that obvious. But slowly he lifts a hand to her cheek and raises her head, and wipes away her tears with his thumb. To apologize, to comfort, to touch. Because what she feels is real, as little as he knew it before -- or didn't want to know it. It's real, as much as the sword at their feet and her hand on his chest, and it was only his willful ignorance that kept him seeing it.
His voice comes subdued, defeated. ] ... I'm sorry, Noire. I'm an idiot.
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After a few seconds, in which she slowly nods - yes, she's agreeing that he's an idiot - she moves that hand from its place on his chest and lightly presses her fingers to his jaw, where she'd punched him. A silent apology. Not for hitting him, but for maybe doing it as hard as she had.
And then Noire smiles, and it's a weak, trembling thing, but it's there. ]
Welcome back, Morgan.
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It's good to see we're in agreement, then.
[ His jaw still smarts, and he'll have to commend her for that later. But now her touch makes it better, and he lowers his cheek into her palm almost subconsciously as his own hand drops away. ]
You're quite the welcome wagon, you know that?
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I wasn't actually sure if you'd want to see me at all, and I didn't give you a choice in the matter, and then I exploded at you like that--
[ She'll draw her hand back now. Things you feel embarrassed about after you deck a guy. ]
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... No, it was perfect. You got your point across pretty effectively, I think. And I don't regret that you did it -- do you?
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[ Because staying alive has become oddly hard lately HA...... Death humor. ]
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N-Noire?!
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... Don't say that. I don't care how many times it happens, some people never come back. And it still hurts.
So... value your life a little more, please?
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[ literal Casual Mode activate!! ]
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[ That's just normal. Maybe. ]
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