remy-arzt:
Remy looked away, feeling an unfamiliar surge of annoyance moving inside him. He wasn’t used to these kinds of feelings, at least not when they were directed at anyone other than himself, and lately Vidal. He couldn’t look Orien in the eye for a moment, mostly it was a sort of frustration. The words hit him, knowing that the political side of it was accurate and realizing his overall calm and calculating demeanour could make it look like he did feel superior. Did he? He didn’t think so, more like he felt detached and wanted it to stay that way when it came to outbursts and problems, but he’d always looked for a way in with people. Nothing too deep or close for comfort, but the sort of moderate warmth that came from knowing the basics about the other and being able to adapt and present yourself in the best light for them. “I do not… that was not my intention, I’m sorry it read that way.” He muttered, his mouth very slightly pursed. He shook his head. He could agree with him, up to a point. The sort of cold and unfeeling haze over everyone was disturbing, to say the least. But he also understood they’d grown to know that he’d secrets, this life, was all they might ever get and the best thing to do is learn to live with it. “What is it you think we should be doing? I’m sorry, I understand letting feelings of shock, sadness, anger et all might be helpful. But do you really think of all of us let it all out all of the time, with no intention to keep control over it, it would help?” He grasped his hands in front of him. “Everyone deals in their own way. I just don’t think, with everything that’s on our minds right now, having everyone let go would be the best approach.”
"What do I think you should be doing?” He asks, the question ludicrous to him. All the time it seems the people in this house try to paint him as the villain that asks too much, that is trying to force them to conform to normal emotional patterns. Is it so much to ask to expect one of nine to at least shed a tear at the thought their Father is dead and bludgeoned by one amongst them? Is it wrong to want to know they’re not just robots going through the motions and that there’s some pain inside of them? “I don’t want you to do anything, Remy. I don’t want any of this, I didn’t want to be here and to put all my energy into something and get nothing back but dirty secrets that nobody wants to believe me about,” he tells the other man, exasperation clear on his features. Childish as it may be, he’s never been exposed to being at such a loss as to what to do. In his world A goes to B and B goes to C and things go the way they are meant to between his illusions and stories. Here, A seems to go to N and here they are at Z. Nothing makes any logical or natural sense. “All I want is the truth, but that,” he lets out a crooked laugh, a look of complete frustration in his eyes but a smile on his face, “Is the impossible around here.”













