would you like me to be quiet? @godsgun, mari dai.
eyes suddenly drawn away from the grainy delay of preferred reality reruns, his head turns towards her, a semblance of scorn and perplexity residing in the pinched bridge of his nose. vincent wonders for a moment the depth of authenticity, as though he were peeling back a new layer to discover a thousand more housed beneath. he was beginning to learn that the concept of mari dai was wrapped up in complete contradictions, immeasurable cruelty storing short bursts of vulnerability inside of it. (no individual would ever begin to apprehend her inner workings, little would even scratch the surface of what loitered beneath. it felt like something like digging a grave with a plastic fork.) she sits beside his reclined figure on the bed, uncertain, quiet in her words and it feels like the loading screen to a video game; waiting for the pixels to dilate and the picture to form, for all vincent had suspected to materialise. but it's real, solemn, and somehow that makes it so much worse. his stomach twists in nanoscopic knowing as he studies her, a sudden pang of guilt gnawing at his innards from the sudden, harboured suspicions regarding his own sensitivity. it makes him wonder, who and why? for this unguarded nature of hers was something entirely alien to their dynamic. vincent was much more accustomed to dealing with the bark, the bite, the pushing and the pushing and the pushing until he was half-mad with fury. he is certainly better equipped for those moments, often found a certain degree of comfort in the engagement of mutual loathing. there was no love without hate. but then, after a careful moment of deep consideration, vincent pushes up against his forearm and plants a gentle, solitary kiss beneath her cheekbone, in the tender nook where sets of pearled teeth divide. it lasts no longer than a second, utterly chaste in nature, before he settles back against his steady forearm and his attention is turned back to the banal, televised hum of couples feuding.
❛ non, ❜ vincent responds with summoned ease. something about the soft way in which mari speaks makes him want to query her perception of his character, a wild sense of incredulity bubbling up inside his chest, though he ensures it remains ignored. but vincent was beginning to learn that sometimes the simpler answers are the most appropriate. ❛ why would i want that? ❜
