dear_mun | On the poly_chromatic app his mun is working on

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On the poly_chromatic app his mun is working on

Do you think sending me to that place will change anything? You may send me as far from Paris as I may go, and all I will leave behind is the scandal born of my own choices. It will remain as I told him; however pure a soul is, I will corrupt it.

I could call it the manifestation of the sin of my birth; I could lay it all at Mother's feet for making me what I am. Yet it all comes down to my choices, does it not?

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With or without my influence, you remain as tasteless as ever.

Ah, a bright side appears. I won't have to see you.

I may be going there too, Jean-Paul. With the both of you.

[Someone who is not Jean-Paul is reaching greedily for this.]

Somehow, I find myself expecting that despite your reaction to Lilith when she died, you will continue to be the rude and cold woman I have always known.

Aren't you the rude one? Creating travesty time and again...

As I've said, you did make me what I am. Mother.

I gave birth to you, nothing more. And nothing less!

Nothing more? I didn't realize cursing my existence was 'nothing more'.

I try not to think about you at all. Please don't make it difficult for me, Jean-Paul.

You came to me.

I do, don't I? You keep making it necessary.

[He shrugs.] You make the choice to come to me. If you really didn't want to deal with me, you would decide not to.

[There's emotion trembling under those words. He hates her; he loves her. He wants her to leave; he wants her to stay. Things would be easier if he could just feel nothing toward her.]

I can't, don't you understand?

[She's getting emotional too; which is better than nothing, certainly. What she usually feels towards him and his sister - nothing at all except bitterness.]

Everything you say and do - it's a disgrace.

Only to one such as you, someone so prudish in her art.

[... she aims a slap straight at his face.]

How dare you!

[His head rocks from the slap and he doesn't look back at her for a moment, his hands clenching at his sides. Finally he does look back at her, holding onto his emotions by a thread.]

How long has it been since you've danced, Mother? How can you even judge the changes in an art you no longer practice?

[Her arm falls to her side, the movement slightly stiff. Very unlike the ballerina she used to be, the person he keeps mocking with his every breath.]

Because it used to be mine, in a way you can't ever understand.

And it could still have been! Maybe not with you, yourself, dancing! But with your daughter that you are so jealous of!

Jealous! [She laughs but her voice sounds too shrill.] You don't know anything, Jean-Paul. Stop embarrassing yourself.

I know how you complain that she was better than you. You are jealous, Mother. Don't pretend it's not that; you're insulting enough as it is.

Such a childish boy.

[She smiles. Her expression never softens.]

Your work is like that, too. Angry and overdone, like a babe throwing a fit on the floor.

And the difference between us is that I'm aware of such.

Don't be rude. When we go to that place, will you still treat me like this?

That depends on you, Mother. I can be... civil... if you can be.

Clinging to my every step. Yes, that's the way it is.

[She sighs and turns away.]

Please. Don't disappoint me.

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likehim_likeme - 2013-11-28 20:07 (UTC) - Expand

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longestfall - 2013-11-28 20:18 (UTC) - Expand

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