[ She lets out a breath at that, not quite a laugh, as she pushes herself off the vanity. ]
He died suddenly. Of a heart attack.
[ The words come quickly, and blunt - so short that it must nearly sound like a joke to his ears. Only her follow up makes it crystal clear that she's being dead serious: ]
It's probably the only reason I'm still alive, actually... ahaha.
[ It's an odd feeling, knowing her time had come so close to running out - one she tries not to think about often. It'd made cutting off such large chunks of her remaining life easy, after all. As much as she can, she tries to erase the thought of how long she has to live from her mind, the perfect fodder for her typical erratic, reckless behavior.
Still, she's not feeling quite so reckless right now, temper placated temporarily by his muted reaction. So, she agreeably makes her way to some nearby chair, plush and velvety, hands on either side of her. Misa finds the more she sees this side of him, the more she's certain her image of him has thoroughly changed, the pensive, melancholy facets of his personality coming through more prominently now that that initial light had been shone on them. Why else would he go through all this trouble to find out about this night? Unless he really wants to understand why things had turned out in Venera the way they did between them, the way she feels she understands. ]
That's pretty much it. I know now that it's not really the same thing... but, that's what happened.
[ She admits, genuine, brow knitted, and shoulders weighed down by the burden of her brush with death, their brush with death. What had happened between him and Makina was a cruel twist of miscommunication and tragedy, not the predatory advance that had been made on her. But she'd reacted abrasively to those words, I'll kill myself right after all the same. A reaction she still feels is a given, after what she went through. It still leaves a sour taste in her mouth, knowing that he could be driven to such an act. But if she owes him anything, it's an affirmation that she understood his motive didn't come from the same sick place, but from somewhere deeply lonely and sad, instead. It's the closest thing to an apology that she can really offer— admitting on some level that she had been wrong to overlay the two so closely. ]
no subject
He died suddenly. Of a heart attack.
[ The words come quickly, and blunt - so short that it must nearly sound like a joke to his ears. Only her follow up makes it crystal clear that she's being dead serious: ]
It's probably the only reason I'm still alive, actually... ahaha.
[ It's an odd feeling, knowing her time had come so close to running out - one she tries not to think about often. It'd made cutting off such large chunks of her remaining life easy, after all. As much as she can, she tries to erase the thought of how long she has to live from her mind, the perfect fodder for her typical erratic, reckless behavior.
Still, she's not feeling quite so reckless right now, temper placated temporarily by his muted reaction. So, she agreeably makes her way to some nearby chair, plush and velvety, hands on either side of her. Misa finds the more she sees this side of him, the more she's certain her image of him has thoroughly changed, the pensive, melancholy facets of his personality coming through more prominently now that that initial light had been shone on them. Why else would he go through all this trouble to find out about this night? Unless he really wants to understand why things had turned out in Venera the way they did between them, the way she feels she understands. ]
That's pretty much it. I know now that it's not really the same thing... but, that's what happened.
[ She admits, genuine, brow knitted, and shoulders weighed down by the burden of her brush with death, their brush with death. What had happened between him and Makina was a cruel twist of miscommunication and tragedy, not the predatory advance that had been made on her. But she'd reacted abrasively to those words, I'll kill myself right after all the same. A reaction she still feels is a given, after what she went through. It still leaves a sour taste in her mouth, knowing that he could be driven to such an act. But if she owes him anything, it's an affirmation that she understood his motive didn't come from the same sick place, but from somewhere deeply lonely and sad, instead. It's the closest thing to an apology that she can really offer— admitting on some level that she had been wrong to overlay the two so closely. ]