Orchestra 31 | Voice

[springforth]

[She wishes they could just post text but here they are with just voice and video. So. Voice it is]

Hi, um, I was wondering if anyone on the train is like. A therapist? Or a counselor or something like that? It's nothing to do with the whole thing that happened recently, it's more that... Well I promised a friend back home that I'd speak to someone about this--thing that happened back home. But there's not really been a way to do that here. And it keeps coming back to bother me.

I guess failing any professionals, maybe just someone to talk to about it.

Um, I don't want to talk about what incident was on here but maybe I could try to explain in private? [Why do you have to talk about things to actually talk about things, this is the worst.]

Comments

[subcircuits]

Most important things are.

[He nods immediately.] Of course. Go ahead.

[springforth]

[While his response is immediate, her own takes a few moments.]

Is it. Is it normal to take pictures? [She really hopes the 'during sex' was implied because she can't bring herself to name the act]

[subcircuits]

[Is it normal to take pictures? He actually has no idea, his sense of what she might consider normal in a sexual relationship skewed by his own profound abuse.

Then again, where he comes from, 'normal' doesn't matter. Consent does.]

Did he-- [Take pictures of her? Obviously, or she wouldn't have asked.] --did he ask you, before he did?

[springforth]

[It's not is it? She hadn't been sure. No one had talked about it and maybe it was just another case of her being a stupid naive village girl, one who can't follow half of the conversation at times, one who--Bile starts to rise in her throat and she swallows hard]

[Her voice is small, choked as she replies] N-No. He didn't.

[subcircuits]

That's not normal. [Bile's rising in his throat too, honestly; his fingers dig into his thighs and he has to look away, lest the disgust and anger he feels for Apollo show too obviously, lest she think it's directed at her.] Another violation.

[He forces a deep breath before he looks back at her.] I'm sorry.

[springforth]

Right. [She chokes on the word, some feeling rising up inside her. Rage or desperation or simple emotional exhaustion. Maybe all of them. Maybe none of them. Her power tingles at her fingertips like a sneeze, like all she has to do it let go and her emotion will spill over into power. When will the violations be done? When will she stop realizing new ones? She breathes in and out, slow.

A few more breathes and she seems so deathly calm and still. Her eyes stay shut. She's afraid they're red to be honest.]

I need to go. I'm going to throw up or lose control. Or both. And none of the options will be pretty.

[subcircuits]

[One of his big hands lights on her knee, giving a single supportive squeeze before he takes it back.] I understand.

[He stands and retreats to the other side of the room, giving her space. With soft encouragement:] Try to let it out somehow. It'll help, I promise.

If you want to talk again, just let me know, all right?

[springforth]

[She barely moves, aware of all the energy in her that needs to go somewhere, the pit roiling in her stomach and up into her throat.]

Right. I mean, I will. If I need to talk again, I will.

[She's up now, moving for the door] I'm sorry, I have to--[She rushes past him and down the stairs. It's a loud process, as she hits a wall on her way down, but he'll find no life sprouting in her wake, no walls torn down by vines, and no mess. She made it, bruised and bumped, to hole up somewhere]

[subcircuits]

[He tries to tell her it's okay, but she leaves in such a rush that he doubts she hears him. That's okay too. He listens to her bang away down the stairs, then turns away from the door with a faint sigh.

He finds himself face to face with a flower, one of the big ones that had opened up in response to Persephone's distress. He reaches up to cup the soft petals for a moment. Quietly:] I hope that helped. I hope she can... can find some measure of peace from this eventually.

[Another sigh. He drops his hand and his eyes.] I hope I can too.

[He collects the makeshift tea service he'd brought up with him, and quits the room.]