#asuleto

[nottoonedin]

Comforting Lies

Isla's Log - 2

(Long Post Warning)

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"Isla? Are you awake?" A small voice whispered through the pitch black.

Isla turned over in bed, towards the voice. She pried her heavy eyelids open, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness. Her sleepy gaze made out the small silhouette of her brother, the orange light of his collar slightly illuminating his face. His brown eyes were wide with childish worry.

"Lala?" Asuka called out again.

"Hmm? What is it, 'Suka?" Isla answered, stifling a yawn. "Is everything okay?"

Her little brother's gaze flickered to the floor, his hands nervously fidgeting with his nightshirt. "It's..." His voice trailed off, suddenly shy.

Isla thought for a moment, coming to a quick conclusion.

"Another nightmare?" she guessed, her brother confirming the answer with a silent nod.

The girl frowned. "Were the bigger kids teasing you again? Telling you stories?" Another nod from her brother. If it wasn't so dark, Isla was sure his cheeks would have been red with clear embarrassment.

Isla sighed in annoyance, though not towards Asuka. The other kids in the adoption centre seemed to take so much pleasure in toying with her brother, telling him tall tales about terrifying monsters and the like. It irritated Isla to no end, even moreso whenever she tried to intervene, with no avail.

The little boy spoke up, "can I... sleep in your bed tonight, Lala?"

This had become an almost nightly routine for the siblings: her brother would wake up in the middle of the night, afraid, and come running to Isla for comfort, and she would never turn him away. The girl had made Asuka's safety her first priority, even if the danger was only in his head.

Isla gave her brother a gentle smile, before moving to one side of the bed, making room for her brother to climb in. She threw the blanket over the two of them, making sure to give Asuka the majority. The blanket was a bit small for two people, but Isla didn't mind the slight chill.

Isla turned her body towards Asuka, brushing loose strands of hair out of his eyes. "Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked in a hushed tone, acutely aware of the other sleeping children around them. The boy furrowed his eyebrows, trying to recall the nightmare.

"I.. I was in a dark hallway, and.. and I was running from this big thing with three- no, four- glowing red eyes and really sharp teeth.. and it kept chasing me for ages.. but then I- I tripped at some point and- and then it-" Asuka sniffled, huddling closer to his sister, which was her cue to wrap her arms around him, shielding him.

Isla gently hushed him, "shh, it's okay, Susu, I'm here, alright?" She cupped his face reassuringly, looking into his eyes. "You know it wasn't real, right? None of those monsters are real."

Asuka's round eyes glistened. "They felt real," he murmured.

Isla nodded in understanding. "I know, it can feel like that sometimes. But they can't really get you, and they won't hurt you."

The boy looked up at her. "Promise?" He whispered.

"I promise," Isla confirmed. "Besides, if they were real, they wouldn't be able to hurt you anyways, not with me around. I'd scare them all away."

Asuka stared at his sister for a moment. "But... you're not scary, Lala.."

Isla gasped, feigning offence. "Of course I am! When I want to be, you're just lucky you're on my good side," she stated, gently tapping her brother's nose, resulting in a giggle from him, which in turn resulted in annoyed hushing from the other children, not wanting their sleep to be disturbed.

The two lay in silence for a while, before Isla felt a gentle tug on her sleeve.

"Lala, could you sing something?"

Isla hummed in gentle amusement. "What would you like me to sing?"

"That one song you learned a few days ago.. I can't remember what it's called... uhm.."

Isla laughed softly. "I think I know which one you mean. Just that one, okay? You need sleep."

Asuka nodded obediently, settling his head against the pillow.

Isla watched him for a moment, before subtly clearing her throat. Taking a deep breath, she quietly sang a soft melody.

"Hush, my child,

Drift into slumber,

In your dreams, you'll run and play

In paradise..."

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Isla couldn't help but nervously chew her bottom lip as she watched the stage, eyes glued on the pair performing- more specifically, on her own brother's performance.

Asuka was talented, Isla knew that.. but talent can only take a person so far.

Isla had once heard it was passion that truly drives a person forward, that makes them stand out, that makes them shine the brightest. But passion, too, has limitations.

It's true, Asuka had passion, but the distracted kind, one that was fueled by his love for.. Leto, rather than his love for the performance. It was the kind of passion that Isla herself might have felt at some point, in a different time.

Isla knew Asuka's passion was dangerous, to both himself and Leto. Especially in these circumstances, which only worried Isla more.

A ghost's words repeated in her mind, though in her own voice.

Don't do something stupid.

Isla could never bring herself to like Leto, ever since she heard how her brother and him had first met. She had told Asuka this many times in the past, which only earned her a sigh and a roll of his eyes, dismissing her concern.

"I'm just trying to give you advice, Asuka. You're a great person, I'm sure you could do a lot... better."

Asuka would huff in response. "I don't want to do better! He makes me happy, Isla. Not everyone can be like you and Monica, you know."

"Asuka," Isla would warn, but the conversation usually ended there.

Now, watching the pair on stage, Isla understood the effect Leto had on her brother.

She couldn't deny that Asuka seemed to glow in the spotlight, smiling at the other man, the two unable to keep their eyes off each other for long. The scene was so ethereal, and paired with the strong emotion in her brother's voice, it formed a lump in Isla's throat.

It wouldn't last. She knew that better than anyone.

With each round she had witnessed so far, she felt like she was thirteen again, clinging to Madame's robe as she watched the stage from the crowd, only instead of her eyes being wide with curious wonder, it was from anxious dread, with no fabric to cling onto but her own dress, her nails digging in so hard they marked her skin beneath.

This round was the worst she had felt so far, other than...

...

Isla breathed a horrible sigh of relief when she saw the scoreboard. He was okay. Asuka was okay.

It was only then that she allowed herself to look down at her lap, knowing what was to come. That was what Isla was best at, she realised; avoidance, always looking away.

Isla could only really rely on her hearing to understand what was happening, but even that was difficult, her spectator pod making everything sound slightly muffled.

She heard a loud thud on stage, which she assumed was Leto's body, maybe, she couldn't tell. Isla focused on her hands, how her knuckles whitened from their tight grip, she traced the paths of her veins with her eyes, how they travelled up her pale, gaunt arms.

Isla heard a choked sob from the stage. A sob so familiar to her it made her wince.

She stared at her dress, trying to guess what material it must have been made from. Silk, probably.

Isla would have expected the body to have been taken away by now, until she heard an vicious growl escape her brother's throat.

Asuka, don't fight back. It's pointless. You must know that. Right?

She prayed her brother would understand. Isla squeezed her eyes shut, listening to the struggle, the echoing clangs of fists against metal.

Isla's breath caught in her throat when she heard a strangled cry of pain on stage.

Instinctually, she looked up, a faint taste of blood in her mouth.

Leto was already dead. Surely they wouldn't-

Asuka was on his knees, shaking from both pain and adrenaline. One of the guards had a strong grip on his arm, before letting it fall limp. He didn't seem to be able to move it. Had they broken it?

"Asuka..." Isla murmured, full of pity, watching as Asuka was then promptly thrown over another guard's shoulder, his body like a weak ragdoll. She saw a guard approach her brother's body, injecting something into his limp arm. Sedative, Isla guessed.

Isla watched as her brother was carried offstage, the fight gradually leaving him, and stayed looking out onto the stage even when he was long gone.

It was only when she heard the click of the pod's door unlocking that she moved once again.

She had to see Asuka. She had to make sure he was okay.

Stepping out of the pod, Isla moved in the direction of the backstage area. She moved through the crowd of the other contestants, blocking out their various murmurs of concern and shock. They didn't matter to her at that moment.

Upon reaching the backstage entrance, Isla prayed she would find her brother there. She was suddenly stopped by two guards, who blocked her path.

"This is a restricted area. For everyone's safety, no one is allowed through for the time being," one of them stated in a monotone voice.

"Please," Isla couldn't hide the desperation in her voice, "please, I- I'm his sister, Asuka's sister, I just want to make sure he's okay. Please, you have to-"

"We've been instructed to not let anyone through. Move along or we'll be forced to take action," the other guard warned, their voice threatening.

Isla frantically shook her head. "You don't understand! I just-"

"Isla!" A familiar voice called behind her. "What are you doing back here?"

Isla whipped her head around, looking up with pleading eyes at the voice's owner. "Madame, please, I'm trying to-"

Her Guardian cut her off. "I was just looking for you! Come along, we have quite a few things to talk about."

"Let me see Asuka first. I need to make sure he's okay-"

"Asuka..? Oh yes! The boy on stage! I always forget he is your brother. Quite peculiar behaviour he showed on stage, but I suppose that's just natural for someone like him."

Someone like him?

Isla pushed her questions aside, "Please, let me see him.. and then, I swear, I'll talk with you, about anything, just-"

Madame simply laughed, as if Isla was a child babbling about nonsense, as if it was cute, her concern for her brother. "You will see him, Isla, I give you my word. But it can wait until afterwards. We have quite a few people waiting, you see.."

Madame turned to walk away from the back of the stage and, like a brainless dog, Isla followed suit.

"We do? What.. for?"

Madame laughed again, and looked down at Isla, who suddenly felt stupid for asking, as if she should have known the answer.

"Why, your next interview, of course!"

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(Part 1 of 2) (Read Part 2 here)

Hough.. the siblings ever..

Asuka belongs to @imperfectnothing, Leto belongs to @paradisedisconcert!

[imperfectnothing]

ROUND 16 LOG - POV: 217342 (ASUKA)

“Go to the future without the correct answer, go beyond your dreams.”

The final verses of my song escaped from my lungs, alongside the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, as I clutched the microphone in my trembling hands. I didn’t want to prove them all right, that all I was cut out for was the shadowy rooms in the back of lounges, or tucked away in the trophy case, seen but never heard. Leto took one of my hands in his own, squeezing it in an uncharacteristically tender moment, and I looked at him. He smiled at me, proud but muted, quiet in a way that was almost sad. Worry bloomed in my stomach, growing from the pit of anxiety that had hummed within since the beginning. I reached out to cup his face but he jerked his chin, gesturing to up at the scores. I followed, trusting as always, and turned to view the scoreboard.

77 - 54

Shock was the only thing that registered, at first, muffling the joy that crackled through me. The joy and shock were quickly swept away by the primal fear that surged, lights flickering out as I was overloaded. Systems came back online as I caught Leto in my arms, his body falling towards the floor as blood sluggishly gushed from the bullet wound in the side of his neck. Through the haze of my mind, I could only barely hear my panicked breathing. There was nothing I could do, nothing I possibly could attempt to fix this. If I took the bullet out, he would only bleed out faster. Leto’s eyes blinked open, irises eventually landing on me, and I begged him,

“Please, no. Please don’t leave me, too.” I held my hand to his neck, trying to stall the bleeding, and pressed my forehead against his. He leaned up to kiss me (one last time) and he smiled at me, before his copper patina eyes went dull. A sob caught in my throat, stuck on unshed tears and the stuttering of my chest, but even in my compromised state, I could hear the footsteps approaching. They were surrounding us, they needed to take the body for processing, they needed to take him from me, that was standard protocol, I knew that, I’d seen what happened to Monica, unable to wrench my eyes away when after Isla fled the scene. I felt a hand on my back and I surged upwards, knocking away the arm and kicking out. Snarling at another one of the guards, I put in my all to protect Leto’s body from them, throwing punches and ducking away from reaching hands even though I was running on fumes. It was difficult to really fight them off because leaving Leto’s body wasn’t an option, meaning I was more or less cornered in barely two meters of space.

They successfully subdued me when one of them caught hold of me and dislocated my shoulder, startling a broken cry from my throat when they flung me over their shoulder in a brutal fireman carry. From somewhere, I sensed the pinprick of a needle and it didn’t take long for the sedative to take effect, my vision clouding with spots of black as I was forced to watch them pick up Leto’s body, forced to see the way his limbs ragdolled and his head lolled to one side, joints and muscles no longer a necessary consideration.

He was still smiling, when I lost sight of him.

-❦-

Waking up to an angel just made me wish I was dead even more. Delicate, thin white braids cascaded down in a curtain, obscuring my view of anything other than Wren’s pensive face. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw me open my own and she started to back away but I reached out, grabbing her by the arm, my grip firm like a vice.

“Don’t,” I rasped. My shoulder hurts like hell but it’s nothing I’m not used to. Sometimes the seygein will put me into positions and one or both of my legs will be dislocated by the end of the night. I’ve gotten used to the pain, throbbing underneath my skin like a reminder, a thrumming memory of everything that I am and everything I will never be. Leto never cared about what I was, what I failed to be. He never looked at me with pity, with remorse in his eyes, not like Isla does. Distantly, I realized, Wren never asked anything of me, either. She only ever wanted me to be myself. What exactly did I do to earn her esteem? I didn’t have it in me to really question it, not then. “Don’t leave,” I pleaded with her. She paused, expression clouding over as she thought for a moment before she let out a sigh, sitting on the medic pallet I was laying on. “I was just going to get the doctor,” she said gently but my hold still doesn’t let up. Everything hurt, my throat, my shoulder, my whole being, my head, my heart, but Wren made for a good distraction. She was something worth focusing on, other than the memories that lingered at the edges of my awareness, the dreams that beckoned with a saccharine sweet smile. Wren watched me for a long beat of silence before she frowned, her lips pressing into a line. “You don’t have to pretend around me, you know.” I blinked in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“On stage, you cried but right now, you’re not,” she gestured to my eyes and when I reached up, I realized she was right, they were dry. “You can cry all you want. I won’t tell.” She smiled, rubbing her thumb over my knuckles, and I knew it was supposed to be reassuring, I knew, but all it did was steal the ground out from under me. My chest hiccups on a breath, ribs catching on my lungs, and I can’t speak for a moment.

“I don’t think I can cry, anymore,” I admitted to her with a shaky exhale.

“What do you mean?” She prompted, her head tilting to the side slightly, an invitation for me to go on, if I wanted to. The dark smoky quartz of her eyes never demanded anything, always willing to take whatever I would give. Why didn’t she ever ask for more? Everyone else did. Everyone wanted something.

“The well’s dried up, Wren. I’ve cried and cried and what has that done?” I laughed, then, and it was a bitter, tired sound. Brittle, almost, as if it too would shatter as easily as my dreams. All I wanted was to be free. All I wanted was someone who wanted me, who made me feel as if I were important for once, as if I weren’t playing second fiddle to my sister for the rest of my fucking life. But he’s dead, now. “Leto died. He died for me and what did I do? I cried. I couldn’t even protect him. I’m fucking useless, at this point. All I do is fail and drive people away. I drove Isla away, with my bleeding heart. The only person I haven’t driven away is you, and that’s just because you don’t ever know when to give up.” Hurt flashed across Wren’s face in a brief, rare glimpse of the vulnerability that lay beneath the brazen, fierce facade that she puts up. I regretted it immediately but I didn’t have the energy, the will, to apologize.

“Do you want me to give up?” She demanded, the edge of her voice raw. I looked away, unable to stand the seeking look in her eyes. She understood me in a way no one ever really could. We were both players in someone else’s production, on the stage without a choice but to keep up the act. We would both always be stuck in the shadow of our siblings, less beautiful, less desirable, unwanted scraps leftover from a lavish meal. Wren was so much more resourceful than me, she had that mettle that made it impossible to really stand up to her and win, she was foolhardy but she always made it work out in the end. She took risky gambles but she won big, so who cared? I would just be a burden to her, water weight on her clothes, just like I dragged Isla down and forced her to take risks she never wanted to.

“It would be better, for you,” I replied quietly.

“Who are you to choose?” Wren snapped, standing up suddenly and ripping out of my hold. “Fuck you for thinking you can just decide that for me.” She stalked away, leaving the room in silence, empty and suffocating with only me left behind.

I didn’t bother trying to stop her. I didn’t even reach out.

Brother like sister, til the end, I suppose.

tagging @ivanttakethis for the prominent Wren presence!! i really hope i characterized her alright (sweats nervously) also tagging @paradisedisconcert for Leto, the boy of all time. . . my son's husband. . . tagging @nottoonedin for Isla mentions! additionally tagging @alien-til-i-stage and @lookatmysillies because um you've said I can do that before. heh.

wren is just going to get the doctor dw!! by the time shes back tho asuka fell back asleep, thinking she just left, like he wanted her to. he's kind of having a shit go of it. . .

lyrics at the beginning are from Yoku by Eve (which was Asuka's round song)

[imperfectnothing]

Round 16 LOG - POV: 217342 (ASUKA)

Our Love's the Only War Worth Fighting For

Maybe it’s stupid to cling to him so tightly, my knuckles white where my fingers hold onto the fabric of his suit jacket. It’s definitely foolish but I know what happens when you don’t reach out and grab hold of the person you love, I watched Monica slip away through Isla’s fingertips, crimson dripping down a lovely amber face. I can’t get the image out of my mind, no matter how much I try to wash away the bloodstains, the way she smiled in her last moments, the way that Isla panicked and reached out in an aborted motion before the gun fired. It was so unceremonious, Monica crumpling to the floor like a marionette with her strings cut, Isla’s choked back sobs as she hugged me afterwards.

I still have scratches on my back from her nails, tearing away at my skin, grounding me and reminding me of the consequences of my choice. I begged Joujou to enter me into this competition, I could have escaped, I could have lived out the rest of my life as another toy up on the shelf, taken down for special occasions, rented out for playdates. Maybe it would

“Why are you here?” Isla demanded through her tears, emerald eyes awash with salt. “Why didn’t you just stay home? Don’t you know what this means? That I’m going to have to lose you, too?” She sounded both agonized and furious, her voice breaking just slightly as her face flickered between heartbroken and terrified. I’ve never seen her like this before, so bereft and afraid. When we were separated as children, we were both scared, but Isla mustered up her courage and put on a brave face, undoubtedly for my sake. I know now, in retrospect, that her smile and reassurances had been fake, her hands trembling as she kissed my forehead and told me everything would be alright. She was just as frightened as I was, she was just better at hiding it, so used to wearing a mask that sometimes she forgot to take it off.

Vulnerability has never been something Isla is good at. In fact, it’s something she actively avoids. That’s why, I can’t help but wonder if Monica ever knew, that she was the sun at the center of Isla’s universe, the warmth in the cold of her nights, a reason to get up in the mornings, a way for her to keep her heart beating. Isla is my sister by blood, my anchor in the dark, tumultuous seas of my own patchy memory. Hers is one voice I can always remember, singing lullabies to me in the shadowy recesses of our childhood, running her hands through my hair. But Monica, Monica was my sister in every way save for blood, she was the warm fireplace that I could always come back to, she would hold out her hand and smile at me, pull me into her arms and make me feel at home in a second. In her embrace, it was as if I wasn’t a freak, an oddity to put on display, but I was simply someone who was precious, loved, cherished. Her kindness never felt condescending.

With Leto, it isn’t exactly the same. I love him, yes, I love him with whatever wretched heart I can muster up, I love him the best that a damaged, horrible creature such as me can. He doesn’t love me in spite of my flaws, though, as everyone else does. He’s seen me at my worst, down on my knees, broken and lost. He didn’t help me up but instead, kneeled down himself and grabbed me by the chin. Our eyes met and my breath caught in my throat, startled by how intoxicated I was by just his gaze, whisky and absinthe in a deadly cocktail. He gave me a once-over before getting up and leaving, telling me that I could follow him if I wanted to, but that he wouldn’t force me. When I told Lala that was how we met, that he didn’t ask if I was okay or try to help, she was frustrated with me. She told me I needed better standards and I just rolled my eyes. She couldn’t understand, she wouldn’t understand and I would never ask her to, never want her to but it did make it a bit difficult to explain why he’d caught my attention so handily.

That incident taught me not to tell her about what exactly Leto and I got up to by ourselves. We took turns giving chase and running, catching each other and tangling our limbs together in knots I prayed would never come undone. Once, he found me out in the gardens, a crazed look in his eyes, and he pinned me against one of the trees. I didn’t put up a fight, even when he put his hands around my neck and choked me. He cracked after a minute or two, my spotty vision returning in hazy blinks, and he looked as though he was crying, even though no tears fell. He kissed me, barely more than a brush of lips, and I put my shaking arms around him, pulling him closer.

In a way, objectively, I know that we’re not good for each other. Lala has told me time and time again this very truth. We relish in the taste of blood, we fight with our hands and teeth but we kiss at the end of every argument, curling up in each other’s arms. We do not want to be apart from one another, my abandonment issues and his obsession muddling together into codependency. To be ripped apart, it would be as if you cut off of one of our limbs. We cannot survive apart, anymore.

All we’re really doing is delaying the inevitable, though. This collision, this horrible spectacle of us crashing into each other, that will happen no matter how far we run away.

Now, turns around to look at me as we stand hallways behind the stage, waiting for the signal from the producers to face the music. He pushes up my veil and presses our noses together, brushing his lips to mine. I have to restrain myself from gripping onto his lapels and tugging him closer, I can’t afford to wrinkle his suit, but I do lean into the kiss, the rush of adrenaline better than any drug. The producer’s voice rings through the backstage and we break out of our embrace.

“Are you ready?” He asks me.

“As long as you’re with me,” I tell him and he rolls his eyes, laughing under his breath as though I’ve told a joke. I wonder if he knows I’m telling the truth. I hope he knows. He has to know. “I love you.” He blinks, eyes widening ever so slightly.

“You too,” he replies, nodding to me before turning and disappearing down the hallway to his end of the stage. I put my hands together, pressing my fingers to my lips as I pray to the Great Anakt that we come out of this alive, unscathed, whole.

It’s a wonder no one has ever told me how truly naive I can be.

❦

pre round 16 log for asuka hahah. hahaha im in danger. goddamn. . . hopefully I can get out a follow-up log for tomorrow :3c

title lyrics are from "die with a smile" by lady gaga and bruno mars. tagging @nottoonedin for Isla and Monica, tagging @paradisedisconcert for Leto! also tagging @apple8ees, @ivanttakethis, @alien-til-i-stage and @lookatmysillies for my own enrichment