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Post by Moon Rabbit on Jul 12, 2016 4:54:51 GMT
she had been complimented today.
it isn't a big deal, not at all. yolande had just been hurrying back to the initiative complex after a day of mindless patrolling and passed someone who offhandedly tapped her shoulder and informed that that she liked her eyes. obviously this person is the friendly type, the kind who would compliment total strangers. obviously this person would do that kind of thing on a regular, perhaps frequent, basis. obviously yolande isn't special because of it.
it still hits her hard.
she thinks about it as she navigates the winding corridors to her living quarters. she thinks about it as she stands in front of her door, identification card in her hand, unmoving. she thinks about it as she slowly sits down, laying the back of her still-hooded head against the wood of the door. she thinks about as she begins to cry.
(she has mastered the art of silent crying, seeing as she gets a lot of practice.)
it shouldn't matter. it doesn't matter. but when was the last time someone had complimented her? she couldn't remember. surely she would remember something like that if it had occurred recently. it touches her that someone, even if that someone is just a stranger who happens to have a friendly disposition, would notice someone like her, and yet at the same time it fills her with dread. she takes great pains in being invisible and has built up a sort of impenetrable, cold-shouldered aura that subconsciously turns people away. maybe it's that the hood of her jacket is always up, though it's kind of cute because of the two strips of cloth attached to it made to resemble bunny ears. maybe it's her blank expression. maybe it's the void in her eyes.
her eyes. what is there to like about her eyes? they're a pale grey, an ugly, dead color. and under them are prominent bags, and under that there are sallow cheeks, and... there's nothing to like about her. there really isn't. she feels that she's been noticed for seemingly the first time, but for a trait that's just as ugly as the rest of her. she should feel good but she feels so bad.
yolande hugs her knees to her chest, sniffling. her face is blotched with patches of red. part of her is ashamed and startled, wanting to escape into her room before anyone sees her in such a pitiful state. a tiny compliment is no reason to cry over. most of her is so drained of emotion that she can't even bring herself to stand up, uncaring of whatever comes next, drowning in self-pity and irrationality.
god, she's so pathetic.
((i didn't actually know why she would be crying so))
Justitia
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Jul 12, 2016 11:12:05 GMT
Post by Justitia on Jul 12, 2016 11:12:05 GMT
She hears crying.
Perhaps it is none of her business; people's sorrows were their own, and more often than not they prefer to be private with such things. It is part of the inconvenience of her abilities that she can sometimes hear what people do in their rooms, although thankfully some people have had the foresight to soundproof their walls.
Still, this weeping one was out in the open, in the corridor, even. It was soft, but that was not a problem for her ears. And while, perhaps, the bearer of the mantle of Justitia was not necessarily required to fight sorrow--- for it came in so many forms and not all of them were the fruits on injustice--- as a person, as Julia, perhaps, even, she felt it was only right to approach the sniffling person.
She slowly nears the crying one, a girl. She tries not to startle her.
"Excuse me. Are you all right?"
Moon Rabbit
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Jul 15, 2016 17:22:23 GMT
Post by Moon Rabbit on Jul 15, 2016 17:22:23 GMT
yolande is startled anyway by the soft, concerned voice that floats to her like a cloud, though it grates against her hearing. she glances up to see--oh geez, is that an a-class hero? it is. she struggles enough in social situations as it is, and that being in the presence of greatness flusters her even more doesn't help. she recognizes this person, knows her alias, but blanks on what her real name is. that's kind of embarrassing.
what's even more embarrassing, though, is that she has been spotted crying. it isn't like her mother died recently or anything, so she doesn't even have a good excuse to be crying. it occurs to her, again, how ridiculous she's being. crying over a compliment? who does that? she wants the floor to swallow her whole.
"uh," she coughs out between sniffles. she wipes at her eyes with the sleeves of her jacket. "yeah. i-i'm fine." like hell she is. she's a mess. but what else can she say? 'no, because i'm being a massive screwup just like every other day?'
yeah, right.
Justitia
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Post by Justitia on Jul 16, 2016 3:54:47 GMT
She is unaware of the effect of her presence upon the crying person; she only knows of her rank in passing, and is rather uncertain what it actually means. She does not understand that she might be intimidating to the other heroine.
In hindsight, the question she asked was rhetorical, after all. The girl was definitely not fine; the way her eyes were moist, the way she shivered, the way she handled herself--- Julia perceived all of that, despite lacking sight. "You don't seem to be so." she addresses, bluntly.
...she does not know what to do in the face of this situation. She does not know what the person was sorrowful about. She does not know the other person's name, even. "I'm Julia." she decides to say. "What's your name? Why were you crying?"
There was a lack of information, and so, perhaps, that must be answered first. After that, perhaps she could work out what exactly to do. Perhaps her approach was too straightforward, but she was unaware of this, and this was how she did things.
Moon Rabbit
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Post by Moon Rabbit on Jul 17, 2016 3:12:40 GMT
well, yeah. obviously she doesn't. she should have broken down in the comfort and security of her room. why out here? out in the open? why does she have to make everything so public? her breath short-circuits as she turns her face away from the other hero, the lower half of her face pressed against her sleeve.
julia. so that's her name. she knew it was something that starts with a 'j.' "yolande," she says, considering evading the second query entirely, then deciding it would be too blatant. "nothing. it doesn't matter. it's dumb. alright? it's just dumb." that's... still evading, but she is adamant to not show more weakness than she already has.
she wants to flee into her living quarters--the door to it is right at her back, after all--where she would be safe from the prying (sightless, though she doesn't know that) eyes of the stranger. just the thought of moving, though, exhausts her to the very core. it's as if her blood circulation has given up on her. she wants julia to leave, but at the same time she doesn't, but at the same time she doesn't care.
"i-i was, uh, noticed. when i didn't want to be noticed, i guess. but, i mean, not in a bad way, i guess--god, i don't even know. it doesn't matter."
Justitia
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Jul 17, 2016 22:33:05 GMT
Post by Justitia on Jul 17, 2016 22:33:05 GMT
"It doesn't seem to be nothing or dumb to you." she says plainly. She sits down at the side of the weepy girl. Her body was quivering in all sorts of confusing ways that Julia was not sure how to interpret.
It was doubtful if Yolande, as she had introduced herself, would elaborate, for a moment, and then she spoke. About being noticed--- not in a bad way, she says--- and yet it had disturbed her. She did not want to be noticed. Did she not want to be noticed right now? There were ways and means she could possibly use to not be noticed... but of course, as a member of the Initiative, sooner or later in one's work one would garner attention, for good or for ill.
"It matters to you." she says in much the same way she said her preceding sentence. "Why do you not want to be noticed?" she asks. She could imagine various reasons... although she did not know if they were so grave as to induce crying. She waits and listens patiently.
Moon Rabbit
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