[replica model] • LUKE FON FABRE (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fabrecation) wrote2013-04-15 10:16 pm
fabrecation) wrote2013-04-15 10:16 pm
029 [Action ; Voice]
[Action]
[... trash like you stole my family, my home... everything from me!
Every night since the draft, those words echo in his head along with images of what happened to both him and his original. Seeing Asch as a child, as the real Luke fon Fabre, happy and smiling, in the place where he belonged...
Then seeing it fall when Luke stole it away again. And having to see him kill their own mother, even though it was just a dream.
It's become even more of a chore to try sleeping. It's difficult when he keeps waking up from horrible nightmares, and when the darkness and silence lead to negative thoughts chasing each other and biting at his mind. It's a cycle that's been going on for a couple of months now, and has only gotten worse since the draft.
On such a night, he sits in the dark and looks down at the person sleeping beside him: his girlfriend, the love of his life. She'd miss him if he were to suddenly disappear and give Asch his title back, right? ... Right, he knows that.
So he disappears in a different way, merely getting out of bed, out of the building in general, to sit outside, pajamas and all, to lean his back against the wall and stare up at the night sky, cloudy and patchy that it is due to the previous rain. The stars he's looking at are fake, stupid and cruel, and yet somehow, he still finds comfort in them. They're of little use at the moment, and he finds himself at war with his own emotions, ones that keep making a wet, stinging sensation in his eyes that makes his vision blur and make him shut his eyes to try clearing them out and hold back the sensation, blocking his view of the stars.
Things are so messed up for him right now.]
[Voice]
[Going back inside won't help. Luke knows that he'd just sit there in the darkness and be unable to get some proper sleep again. So, might as well reach out and see if he can get some help with that.
He remembers long ago, when he had a similar sleeping problem. He'd asked over the journals just like this. A woman who dove into his dreams read him a book that made him fall asleep within minutes. The thought makes him give a fond little half smile before he lets it fall as he speaks quietly.]
Can someone talk to me? It doesn't have to be a story or anything, just... something. What you did today, what you want to do later, or – I don't know, what you were doing back in your world.
If... it's okay, anyway. You don't have to talk. I know it's late, and I'm sorry, it's just that...
I need to stop... thinking about things for a little while. That's all it is.
[... trash like you stole my family, my home... everything from me!
Every night since the draft, those words echo in his head along with images of what happened to both him and his original. Seeing Asch as a child, as the real Luke fon Fabre, happy and smiling, in the place where he belonged...
Then seeing it fall when Luke stole it away again. And having to see him kill their own mother, even though it was just a dream.
It's become even more of a chore to try sleeping. It's difficult when he keeps waking up from horrible nightmares, and when the darkness and silence lead to negative thoughts chasing each other and biting at his mind. It's a cycle that's been going on for a couple of months now, and has only gotten worse since the draft.
On such a night, he sits in the dark and looks down at the person sleeping beside him: his girlfriend, the love of his life. She'd miss him if he were to suddenly disappear and give Asch his title back, right? ... Right, he knows that.
So he disappears in a different way, merely getting out of bed, out of the building in general, to sit outside, pajamas and all, to lean his back against the wall and stare up at the night sky, cloudy and patchy that it is due to the previous rain. The stars he's looking at are fake, stupid and cruel, and yet somehow, he still finds comfort in them. They're of little use at the moment, and he finds himself at war with his own emotions, ones that keep making a wet, stinging sensation in his eyes that makes his vision blur and make him shut his eyes to try clearing them out and hold back the sensation, blocking his view of the stars.
Things are so messed up for him right now.]
[Voice]
[Going back inside won't help. Luke knows that he'd just sit there in the darkness and be unable to get some proper sleep again. So, might as well reach out and see if he can get some help with that.
He remembers long ago, when he had a similar sleeping problem. He'd asked over the journals just like this. A woman who dove into his dreams read him a book that made him fall asleep within minutes. The thought makes him give a fond little half smile before he lets it fall as he speaks quietly.]
Can someone talk to me? It doesn't have to be a story or anything, just... something. What you did today, what you want to do later, or – I don't know, what you were doing back in your world.
If... it's okay, anyway. You don't have to talk. I know it's late, and I'm sorry, it's just that...
I need to stop... thinking about things for a little while. That's all it is.
[Action]
Blinking, and not looking back into the journal, she lowers one hand and has a few hollows waft from her palm. They can be her back-up, and she can throw her voice between each of them for the "echo" effect she wants. Quietly, like a whisper, she starts her song.]
[Action]
Once again, songs have a deep impact on him, though he still doesn't quite know why. He can hear every voice, every echo, and every part of it seems to reverberate in his body, feeling whatever emotion that they're trying to convey.
He feels such sorrow for the first verse, for the rain that tries to cry out its message before it fades into the ground, into the sky. It's enough that he feels tears prick at his eyes. But when the second verse starts, and its true message becomes clear, he opens his eyes, staring down at the dark material of his pajamas.
It's hard to remember sometimes. The fact that he's surrounded by people who care for him, who love him. The fact that he isn't alone. Even now, it's a little hard to acknowledge. But the song still manages to create a warm little sensation inside him, something similar to hope, of sorts.
When the song finishes, he stays like that for a moment longer, then lifts his head, wiping at his eyes with the back of his thumb.]
That's... That was really beautiful.
[Voice] ...yeah just realized this was action all along WHOOPS
Her lips turn up into a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, but at least it's genuine. Perona likes to sing, and she likes being told the songs she sings are nice - she's a proud sort and loves to be praised for what she does. This time, though, she doesn't puff up, just feels rightfully humbled. She can't put much energy into more than that right now, it's too much work, and she feels really, really tired.]
Hm...I'm glad you approve.