[closed] we shape our buildings; thereafter, they shape us

[ignoreher]

WHO: Malkuth & Others
WHAT: Various threads for April (hmu for starters if needed!!!)
WHERE: Pretty much anywhere
WHEN: Anytime during April
WARNINGS: probable violence, drinking, cannibalism, sex, spoilers for Lobotomy Corporation & Library of Ruina will be marked as needed

Comments

we really could not get more

[ignoreher]

[ malkuth wishes, as she chews at a slice of flesh, that she was stronger. she thinks of vergilius's remark that her mental fortitude must be strong to use five of them, and she hadn't agreed nor denied it; she had let it remain a mystery, just another unspoken thing between them. but she isn't strong enough in the end.

that's why she's sitting here, quiet except for the disgusting smack of eating, frustration and irritation at herself, at yesod, at herself again more than anything or anyone else pricks at the corners of her eyes. they don't fall, but they sting regardless. they don't fall, but her heart drops into the bottom of her empty stomach with each bit of human that goes in too.

malkuth feels the fairies pull. these aren't thick with blood like anything inside would be. why not go for those first? we're hungry, we're hungry, we took care of you, so take care of us.

she's used them for hours. she shouldn't beat herself up. but even so, maybe if she was stronger, they wouldn't be so persistent so loud, so eager to make a fool of her in front of the person she doesn't want to worry any -- that she wants to worry over instead, to show she's fine and reliable and she can handle it, even if. handling it is just this.

malkuth feels her throat tighten and she sniffles despite herself, shaking her head as she slices the hybrid's belly open finally. as easily as one might butter, picking at the natural layer of fat and membrane that holds things together as she speaks quietly. ]

... It doesn't taste as good as I thought it would, after hearing some of our guests marvel at their own culinary creations.

[ but it was also a mistake to talk, she finds, because in that quietness is a wavering tone that betrays her more dismayal mood. ]

[penaltypoints]

[ The sounds of battle grow distant while Malkuth's chewing mouthful after mouthful of flesh fills the foreground until she speaks. No, even before that, it wasn't quiet — to Yesod's ears (to his components receiving and processing auditory input), Malkuth abruptly inhales sharply before she makes the next cut to access the hybrid's still-fresh innards. The telltale noise is discordant. So is Malkuth's voice before long, trembling as though her emotions are welling up to spill out of her, try as she might to restrain them.

During their time in Lobotomy Corporation, Malkuth never sounded like this. (Did Elijah, in her final moments...? Even prior to that day?)

Would it be worse to acknowledge it or to leave it alone? ]

...Malkuth.

[ The true issue is complex, unrelated to the flavor of this type of meat — raw or cooked, unseasoned or seasoned, it would change nothing.

Yesod has no handkerchief or packet of tissues to offer Malkuth, and he knows that his presence provides no more comfort to anyone now than it did when he feigned indifference. But he remembers the taste of despair, rotting from within, the lonely darkness closing over one's head. There are sins not to forget, things not to tolerate any longer. He thinks again that Malkuth shouldn't be left to choke down all of the pain by herself.

Reaching out — an attempt to steer Malkuth's attention away from the fairies' demands and her thoughts, to direct it to her humanity in spite of everything — Yesod's fingertips brush against Malkuth's cheek, thumb wiping away a smear of blood there. ]

[ignoreher]

[ malkuth pauses briefly at the call of her name, but she stills completely at the touch to her cheek, bare as it is. near to gentle, almost, in its restraint; a single act, foreign in general but especially from yesod. fixing one's clothes is a world's difference to this.

it threatens her heart, squeezes the tears from the corners of her eyes until they drip down and she wants so, so so sosososososo so badly to lean into it, strange as the motion is,

but she finds herself flinching away. flinched away, even, dragging the meal from him with warm cheeks and trembling hands. ]

Don't... Stop that. [ it sounds a contradiction, the words lost between. or does she mean it?

she's so hungry. or thirsty. she feels parched. ] I...

[ she's fine. she is. she has to be. this is proof he doesn't think she is, that she can't handle herself once more. so why can't she say so? why, instead, does her cheek burn where he'd stained himself with blood? ]

[penaltypoints]

[ For a fleeting fraction of a second, while Malkuth goes still, Yesod's fingers — too convincing and disconcerting an illusion — maintain the contact. They register more than he expects, once again, presumably because the cloaking technology is designed to enable its user to blend in with ordinary humans, possibly even simulating certain sensory receptors to ensure appropriate responses to one's surroundings. Malkuth's tears, turning her lashes wet and tracking thin glistening trails down her cheeks, mix with the blood coating Yesod's thumb.

And then Malkuth recoils, as if to jerk away from a blow or a scorching flame or the bite of an unpleasantly cold surface. Yesod's hand remains outstretched a moment longer, giving it the appearance of reaching for Malkuth, beckoning to her. The sight is, without a doubt, as strange as the touch that came before it — Yesod is acutely aware of it himself.

Finally, he lowers his hand. His body lacks a heart, but something clenches where it might reside, his mind all too capable of emotion, and he recognizes this powerlessness. ]

...That was my choice as well.

[ But it has accomplished nothing positive. ]

[ignoreher]

[ his choices are stupid, she wants to say, words caught in her tight throat instead. the heel of her hand comes up to wipe at her tears before she shakes her head, chest aching, and droops as she digs into the cavity of the body. ]

... You're lucky you're a hunk of metal, [ after a moment, shaky and a little sulky, ] or I would've taken your finger off.

[ even if she wouldn't have really. dedicated to keeping her friends safe, swearing to march she'd never hurt her and wanting to promise the same to yesod now. but the contact had eased her hunger somewhat, irritatingly, annoyingly, and she presses her hands into hot blood to try and capture the warmth before. she can't ask it of him.

she can't, she won't, so she doesn't. she answers his question from before instead, once the soft tissue has slide down her throat and she's resisted the natural human urge to gag on it. ]

... My sake. I don't want one of your memories to be... this, about me.