On the poly_chromatic app his mun is working on

[likehim_likeme]

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?

Comments

[likehim_likeme]

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

[longestfall]

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

[likehim_likeme]

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

[longestfall]

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

[likehim_likeme]

You came to me.

[longestfall]

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

[likehim_likeme]

[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.]

[longestfall]

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.

[likehim_likeme]

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

[longestfall]

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

How dare you!

[likehim_likeme]

[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?

[longestfall]

[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.

[likehim_likeme]

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

[longestfall]

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

[likehim_likeme]

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.

[longestfall]

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.

[likehim_likeme]

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

[longestfall]

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

[likehim_likeme]

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

[longestfall]

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

[She sighs and turns away.]

Please. Don't disappoint me.

[likehim_likeme]

[Sarcastically.] What a motherly thing to say.

In that place, no one even need know I came from you. Thus you have no need to be pleased or disappointed.

[longestfall]

A true artist only plays pretend for the sake of the stage. You want people to think I raised you a liar?