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 The Pain That Defines Us [Ritsuko Zayasu :: Morning]

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PostSubject: The Pain That Defines Us [Ritsuko Zayasu :: Morning]   Sat Nov 19, 2016 12:59 am

Nebula watched as her father stopped moving and slumped into the ground, blood splashing across both her and his own clothes. The limp, lifeless body that lay before her called out her name "Nebula. Nebula. Nebula." Over and over and over like a madman's interpretation of what a broken record sounds like. Then, something miraculous happened. Instead of the voices of all her former friends and family screaming inside her mind, she heard nothing. Complete silence. Then, she watched in astonishment as her father stood up...




version=2&autoplay=1&hd=1&theme=red&loop=1" />

...and hugged her.


-----------------------------------------------------------------

Nebula woke up with a jolt, as she did all mornings since that day, but this time... she wasn't screaming. In fact, there was a definitive lack of drenching sweat tears this time around too. Her nightmare... had taken a turn for the better. What sort of mandess was this? She didn't deserve forgiveness from her father, not yet! She still had so much to do before she could truly consider herself a hero! Even if she'd joined the cadets, that only meant that she'd gained a chance at forgiveness, not forgiveness itself!

Nebula refused to believe this was forgiveness. Maybe her father was trying to tell her something else? Maybe he wanted to see her? That sounded like the most rational (though not very rational in its own right to her) explanation. Nebula took a quick shower, ate a quick breakfast, and put on her clothes quickly. The sudden change in her nightmare routine had made her determined: This was the day she would stop chickening out and actually visit her father's grave.

She walked a bit, holding her sketchbook close, until she reached the Mortimier Family Morgue And Cemetery, where her father laid in rest. She looked around for a bit, in search of his specific tombstone, untile she finaly found it. Nebula was able to muster the courage to come here, but... not the courage to speak to him. All she did was stand quietly above his grave, taking in once more the reality that her hands had brought into this world. All she could do was stare.


"..."

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PostSubject: Re: The Pain That Defines Us [Ritsuko Zayasu :: Morning]   Sun Nov 20, 2016 1:49 am

The sound of crunching gravel underfoot sang along with the morning larks and rustling of the leaves in the trees as Ritsuko made her lonely way up the dirt trail, her guitar jostling over her shoulder with a familiar weight with every hiking step she made. It was early. Much too early for her taste, but Ritz never forgot the promises she made to herself. Last night she had been filled to the brim with determination, her mission having lain her next objective in front of her on a silver platter. She felt guilty for having let herself down before, for not committing herself as closely to her goal as she would have liked, but that was the past. Today was today. Even if today was a pretty shitty one already.

She had been exhausted yet unable to sleep, leading her to awake before she had any rhyme or reason to. Four hours of fitful sleep full of unrest tugged at her stamina, and a dull thud pierced through her mind from drinking as much as she had. It wasn't as terrible as the other day though. Puking up all the toxins in her body and a steady diet of water and greasy goodness saw to that. Still, it sucked big time to be up so early in the day after her very eventful night and she wasn't feeling 100% but it was leagues better than her previous drinking binge. The scenery was striking with its pastel greens of placid fields, soft yellows of the dying orchard leaves, and the vibrant blue of the morning sky shining down a warm, welcoming light down upon her. Nature's concerto hummed peacefully with the upbeat melodies of bluebirds in perfect harmony with the gentle breeze along the tall grass and tall trees. But the air? Absolutely loathsome. The wind was a lot cooler than she'd liked and the air smelled of shit. Literally shit. One would expect the country atmosphere to smell reminiscent of fresh cut apples, of hay and rolling fields. But no. It stank of pig shit instead. At least in the city she was accustomed to the smog and pollution so much that she didn't notice it, but here the stench was vile. Fuckin' hicks.

She came prepared for the occasion regardless, both with clothing and her travel supplies. She'd brought along a few bottles of water she filled from the tap and her comfortable walking shoes, some beat-up sneakers that could use a visit to the trash bin and her worn-down white cargos that with the frayed cuffs and a patch in the knee. She'd had them since she'd been out on her own three years ago, and it was cheaper to sew up a black handkerchief to the dead space than buy a new pair. Gave it a cool pattern, too. Overtop a red and black flannel over a black long-sleeve did an adequate job of defending her against the chill, but it wasn't perfect. Her scratched aviator sunglasses at least did what they were designed to do and left her with some semblance of eyesight in the powerful sun.

The walk was long and uneventful, which was alright with her, but she'd already discarded three spent cigarettes on the side of the road. The bus only went so far. Most people out here had their own vehicle to bring them out to the sticks but that was a luxury Ritz couldn't afford. Getting to decompress wasn't anything to complain about but she found herself wanting to fill the gap and occupy herself. Smoking was easy enough to do. She had a lot of time to herself on the walk, more time to process what she'd seen last night. Demons, just like five years ago. Only she had more work to do. They wouldn't find her every time, she'd need to seek them out. And where there was smoke there was fire. They had to come from somewhere, Ritsuko didn't believe with the constant cadet patrols they would pop out from nowhere, and a weakling like that wouldn't have just slipped through the cracks. It meant something, she could feel it. Nothing happened at happenstance. It was worth looking into. But she had no leads aside from any she could root out for herself, and right now she set back to her original task: the researchers had to be dead. The majority died in the facility back during the Eternal Divide and she hadn't seen anyone in those blood-stained streets, but it was entirely possible that some survived. That was unacceptable. That was why she was way the hell out in the middle of nowhere. One could never be too sure.

The sight of the cemetery was shocking, although it shouldn't have been. Even from afar it was quite the expansive plot. It made sense. A lot had lost their lives to the Eternal Divide and many more were missing. But the sheer size of it was a little to take in. The owners certainly took advantage of the tragic situation, bunch of self-serving vultures. Ritz felt... hesitant. This was it. This might be the proof she was looking for. She'd never been to the Mortimier Family Morgue And Cemetery because it was always too inconvenient, always out of her way. That stopped today. She wouldn't make any more excuses. Today she would find the truth. They had to be dead... or Ritsuko had a lot more work to do to put them back here where they belonged.

The weight of the situation wasn't lost on her as Ritz ascended the gentle slope, dirt crunching under her light footfalls. It permeated the atmosphere, this decision. No matter what she found things would never be the same. Should she find everyone accounted for deep in the ground, she could break that heavy chain around her neck. Move on, live her own life free of fear for a change. But if she found nothing... it would amount to a whole different set of priorities. Ritsuko loved her freedom, to be herself without repercussion, but she had never been free as long as she lived. She'd been shackled to her past, even when she held more control over her immediate actions aside from obedience vs. malignance. Always running, never ceasing, lest they find her and put her to the sword. The musician could never rest, never relax until she was certain all of those detestable individuals and their associates were nothing more than a bitter memory.

At last she crested the hill, and time stood still for her. There were no more meadow larks, just the chilling breeze from the long forgotten and forlorn. Dead silence. Only the unsuppressed howl of the wind expressed their desires. To be heard... to be remembered... but something was amiss. On so early of a morning Ritsuko expected to be alone but... wasn't. She recognized the still shadow peeking above the headstones. It was the woman from earlier the other day. Her mind jumped back to her sketch: a macabre peace with hopeful implications. She could see the determination within that sketch and left her afraid, fearful enough to leave. But today was a new day. Today she was indebted, today there were favors she needed to deliver upon. She was in control of what she did, and no good deed went unpunished. Finding a place to relax upon, Ritsuko brought forth her muse to bear, the dilapidated fenceline at the edge of the property. She picked up on subtlety easily and right now was no different. It came to her easily her motivation, how she was able to sketch such sickeningly sweet drawings. This was her answer. And Ritz would not be outdone.

Oath to the Lost:
 

Her fingers glided over the strings, unleashing her own twisted emotions to the airwaves. It was a song of loss, one of mourning, a song to meet the shy artist's own feeling with her own. It echoed loudly through the boneyard in a solemn concert. She never felt what it was like to lose, but at least she felt the agony of having never having anything to lose in the first place.

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PostSubject: Re: The Pain That Defines Us [Ritsuko Zayasu :: Morning]   Mon Nov 21, 2016 12:17 am

There were so many things that Nebula wanted to say, but they were so many... so many that instead of coming out as they should, they all clogged up in her throat in a desperate race to be the first to be said. On top of that, while she could go on for hours and hours talking about this endless ocean of feelings to her father... what would really be the point? It's not like he would care, right? Why'd she even come here? It was foolish, selfish and egotistical of her to come here thinking her father would want to bare to see her face again. Feeling like she'd committed a heavy infringement, Nebula was about to turn around and leave, when a certain familiar sound filled the air... it was a guitar. An electric guitar full of sadness and melancholy. Beneath her bangs, Nebula redirected her eyes to the side to see the source of the music for herself, though the source would be unable to notice that Nebula's eyes had shifted, as the space between her bangs through which she was looking was way too small to be seen through from any distance other than directly behind it. It was the musician from the bus stop... playing yet another emotion-loaded piece.

The song itself... it made her think of many things, but it made her think of one thing above all other things: Her father. Before mom died and they were both kicked out of their lives and into hell, he was the most loving, most perfect father that had ever graced the earth. He worked hard every day to be better, and put every single ounce of himself on the line to make his wife and daughter as happy as they could possibly be. She taught Nebula invaluable life lessons, such as those that she would've never been able to learn from anybody else, and he was loving beyond all reason. It was only after the divide that he turned dark, cold and bitter. The death of his wife drove him off the edge, and he became clinically insane, though Nebula never had the heart to turn him in to an insane asylum because she feared what they would do to him... so she suffered. She suffered his insanity so that he may live a life that was at the very least awarded basic human decencies. As she knew way too well, however, those plans for continued life were rudely interrupted... by no other than her own monstrous self. She wasn't strong enough to endure his insanity. She should've been stronger, but... being the disgusting being she was, she gave into her pain.

Nebula began to see images of her father inside her own mind. She saw him smiling, laughing, sleeping, crying, and finally, sleeping... forever...

Tears began to stream down Nebula's cheecks, and her breath began to be broken apart by intermittent sobbing. Even somebody standing yards away would be able to tell that she was crying her eyes out. Despite this her posture remained unchanged, her hands remained at her sides, and her head remained looking down. The tears had forced their way, but Nebula would still do her very best to appear as strong as possible in front of her father. Being a veteran himself, Nebula's father took a liking to calling Nebula "His little soldier"... so that's what Nebula intended to be: A soldier. As tears rushed through her eyes like rivers, and sobbing invaded her breath like crusaders, Nebula folded her left hand behind herself, and brought her clenched right fist to her chest in a salute of her fallen warrior.

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PostSubject: Re: The Pain That Defines Us [Ritsuko Zayasu :: Morning]   Fri Nov 25, 2016 2:01 am

The soulful waves rolled over the cemetery in a morose sonnet, engulfing it in the regretful notes carried on the wind. The grass rustled in appreciation as if the dead were clawing their way toward the sound of her music, attempting to cling to one last goodbye. Hopelessness washed over Ritsuko as she sang that jaded tune through her calloused fingertips. She slowly unseated herself from the rotted wooden fence with a groan and began her slow march up and down the rows of spirits long lost, possessed by their regret, eager to personally deliver a final farewell to those gone from this world forever.

...no man may escape the claws of time and mortal strife. It is each and everyone's destiny to return to the earth what bore them. Some much sooner than others.

...

As you too will realize, one day. Your spirit... you long to hear that carrion call? To feel Death's icy embrace?

...I don't care anymore. I never did. It doesn't matter if it's now or later, no one's gonna remember me and I've got nothing to look forward to.

Hmm hmm... Perhaps it is for the best. Your fragile life is short. So delicate, like a tulip exposed to the frost. Yet... beautiful in its poetic despair. It will never survive and has no hope to, yet it sparkles with radiance in the gay sunlight...

...

You have a lot of passion left for this world, my child. When the flame of your soul is snuffed out, the bitter smoke will choke those who hath been inspired from the depth of your spirit. The world will grow darker without you.

...It doesn't matter. No one can understand. It's just noise to them, not songs, not music. I just... I wish someone could feel the way I feel. To... have everything taken away from you. I thought that the Eternal Divide would have left more people like me, but... everyone else is strong and I'm not. But I'm not weak, either. I'm... I'm in the middle. Everyone weaker than me is dead, and everyone stronger than me has left me behind. And now there's no one left...

You may yet be taken aback, my child. One does not need to understand noise to know what it means. You may discern a shriek of agony from a child at play, can you not?

Yeah, but-

Your words will be lost on them. Know this. It will never change as long as you still draw breath. But that does not mean you are alone in this world. Though it may be meaningless to many, to the treasured few you may strike chords that resonate deep within the heart.

...

These are those that matter, my child, no one more is worthy of your effort. Take heed, you have already done so yourself no sooner had you stepped foot on this sacred earth.

I-I... N... No, that's not what I-

What you meant to convey? You may mask your feelings from others but you cannot hide them from me.

Tch...!

I do not seek quarrel from you, but search deep inside thyself. Your own heart, cracked and rent asunder as it is, it aches for the warmth of another. You have allowed the piercing arrow of loneliness to fester into an grotesque infection so that none may see you in your true light. But this light... it will bring to you comfort.

...I know...

You will do what comes naturally to you, my child. I will not sway your decision. Your heart will decide, and I will allow that to transpire, for good or for ill.


The air hung thick with the fog of sorrow and regret as Ritsuko made her solemn rounds, forlorn eyes on the headstones. Most of them were strangers to her, numerous anonymous casualties to the tragedy five years ago. She sometimes found entire family lines under the same tombstone. It was an eye-opener, and it made fresh old scars. Some people had lost everything, and she'd been acting like her pain was so much worse. In ways it was. Many people hadn't been forced to fight and let the people around her down. Most hid or ran or were just plain lucky. Actually, most died. The few that were lucky were the ones that were still around to feel that hurt. Ritz was no different. She had been brought up to kill those things, after all. That training had saved her life at the cost of its meaning. She was a weapon at the end of the day. Nothing but a loaded gun to be pointed and fired. It made her wish that she had died instead.

Through her sanguine stroll she would find herself within earshot of the young woman sobbing her heart out with her own personal failures. It hung strong like a weight on her mind, threatening to crack her frozen heart into pieces. Her torment was... foreign to her. She had never known loss in a personal way. It had always hung above her like a sword, and ground her foundation like a weight, but never had she lost someone close to her. But it hadn't meant that she couldn't understand. The grass beneath her feet slid underneath her from the morning dew, rustling as she approached with melancholy notes. She allowed her electric chords to trail off as was lured toward her heartbreak, the air filling with the sobs of loss. It had made Ritz want to cry for her. The wind howled with her tortured cries as Ritsuko stood silently beside her, guitar over shoulder. This man... Renata. She didn't care about him. How could she? She'd never known him, his fate had been no different than the fate of everyone else's after the Divide. Many dead, many more lost. Only the fortunate few were exempt from this pain. No, it was her own pain for which she felt so strongly.

The blonde artist had drawn from that torturous well water tinged and blackened with grief... and she used it to create. She chose to give back to a world that had only taken from her. That is what had rung with Ritsuko. The agony of creation, to use one's soul as a medium of expression, was all too familiar to her. This woman's agony was her own. They were one and the same. Her small, tentative hand reached toward the her shoulder yet never found purchase. This was her own moment. It wouldn't help, she knew this. She herself wouldn't want to be affected in a moment like this. She spoke nothing as dull eyes wavered over this strange man's grave. What would she say? There there? Things will be better? I know how you feel? She wouldn't want to hear these things. Ritz knew that. She felt that. What was important right now was knowing that she wasn't alone. No touch or word in the English language could communicate that as clearly as her mere stoic presence did.

The breeze yowled in protest over the two young women, licking at their faces like the ghosts of long past. One in formal salute, sorrow bubbling to the surface in choked weeping. The other in utter silence, a dark cloud casting her in shadow.

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PostSubject: Re: The Pain That Defines Us [Ritsuko Zayasu :: Morning]   Mon Nov 28, 2016 11:55 am

The cold morning wind blew over Nebula, sweeping her golden unkempt bangs to the side, revealing the fountains of sorrow that were her eyes to anyone around, like a hurricane that had blown down a thin fence meant to protect the most precious things. She stood in silence over her father's grave for quite a while, thinking of what she'd done, the man to whom she'd done it, and her consecuent eternal retribution. Even if Ritsuko had tried to comfort her, there were no words in the English language - or any other language - that could possibly uplift her from her severe and well-deserved depression.

After quite a bit of choked sobbing and weeping, the golden-haired artist wiped her eyes with her sleeve and turned around to face the other woman present. Unlike her, she didn't seem to be in any state of mourning - at least, none that she could recognize. She swiped her bangs to the side once more, so as to be able to look her in the eyes without visual interruption. She stared at her for a while, hoping she'd announce her reason for being here first. If she did speak up first, Nebula would stay silent and listen. If not, she would scratch the back of her head and speak up herself. "...'ello..." She greeted in a meek, gentle tone.

The situation seemed a little awkward to Nebula. The tension in the air was clear, yet it wasn't necessarily an aggresive kind of tension, rather... it was a hesitative tention formed by either party's reluctancy and lack of further planning on how to approach the other. "W-What are you d-doing here?"

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PostSubject: Re: The Pain That Defines Us [Ritsuko Zayasu :: Morning]   Mon Nov 28, 2016 9:22 pm

The thick atmosphere hung with an oppressive weight, filled with an emotional static electricity that pricked at the spirit with numb little shocks. Her eyes didn't leave the grave for a moment even as the sorrowful creator turned to face her, rubbing away any sign of her grief. Not that it meant anything. It was clear she had been crying and that was okay. This was a graveyard. People weren't supposed to be strong here. The reflective lenses of her sunglasses hid her eyes once more from the artist's as her rebellious hair waved in the chilling breeze. Her tortured eyes of slate were the same as she'd seen them before: pained, afraid, filled with loss. Ritsuko's were similarly filled with a sense of pity and understanding, but one tucked carefully away from others. Her grief was her own, it was her battle to fight, and no one could help her anyway. But... she wasn't selfish enough to act as if she was the only one with that struggle.

Whispers of the dead on an icy gale filled the silence between them for a good while, grass swaying with empty and unfulfilled wishes long abandoned. Until the tormented blonde spoke.
"...hey," answered Ritz in a soft voice. She stood there for a moment more before turning from her to continue her sorrowful journey up and down the grave paths. The moment was gone, that soulful exchange with nary a word, never to return again. The musician had said everything she wanted to say, not in language but in deed. What would she say? She already understood that there wasn't anything she could do to make her feel better, there was nothing to do. The best she hoped to manage was to share with her, to also bear the heartache so that the weight hadn't crushed her. Misery loves company, because misery isn't as miserable with someone else there.

As her ratty sneakers swept through the grass in slow, steady paces a question grazed her ears that caused her to stop. What was she doing there? Again, Ritsuko knew what she meant. What she was doing alongside her as she wept.

Letting you know that you weren't alone.

...but that wasn't for her to say. It shouldn't have to be said, her presence was enough. In any case it wasn't a question she wanted to answer. Ritz never liked having to repeat herself. She chose to answer the artist's question a different way.
"...I put some people here," her regretful words carried over the wind, back still toward her counterpart, "...I'm making sure they haven't left." The musician gave a lazy, sweeping gesture over the cemetery as her cryptic reply sunk in. Her message was intentionally ambiguous, it was up to the blonde how she would interpret it, had she meant she was responsible for some of these souls shedding their mortal coil or if she had bore their coffins herself. The Eternal Divide had left many in that position... but Ritsuko had meant so quite literally. Blood stained her hands. Over half a dozen lay in their unending rest thanks to her, none of which she held any remorse for.

The loner was content enough to leave things how they were. She felt no obligation to stay. She made her presence felt just as she meant to do, experiencing this melancholic exchange with the artist. It was in the past, whole minutes of it, but it was still never coming back. It would remain a memory, both full of hurt from the situation and hopefully fond with how she had approached it. Maybe she'd understand... but perhaps not. The only important part was that she meant well and she knew that. Maybe she'd feel a little more understood from their bonding through song and tears.

...her footsteps stopped cold along her melancholic journey to find those she'd killed. Aoide slipped from her shoulder, clanging to the ground with a sudden twang of strings as Ritz's fists clenched into tight little balls at her sides. The atmosphere around her darkened as she trembled with a violent ocean of emotions churning inside of her, raven hair shielding her face in the whipping wind. She stood before a gravestone, a large one, coming to about chest high.


Zayasu
Ritsuko
1995-1999
"Our beautiful little angel,
gone too soon"

Zayasu
Akechi
1963-2012
"Devoted husband,
pastor, and Christian.
May he sit eternally
in the lap of Our Lord"

Zayasu
Kiko
1967-2012
"Loving wife and mother,
her bright smile will make Heaven
a little brighter."


Teeth bared and grit, tears streaming down her pale face, Ritsuko finally understood the loss that had gripped the blonde woman. She believed herself to be unwanted, given up for the sake of such cruel experiments. But that wasn't true. She had a future, someone had been looking for her! The loner hadn't been born into this world destined to become a tool, a puppet, her life had been ripped away from her! Old scars began to tear open as she lost her life all over again,  jaded heart shattering into pieces audible through her sobs.
"*sniff* ...you weren't supposed to be here..." she choked, "I... I hated you... and y-you can't even give me that anymore... you weren't supposed to be dead...! *sniff*"


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PostSubject: Re: The Pain That Defines Us [Ritsuko Zayasu :: Morning]   Wed Nov 30, 2016 3:24 am

Hold on a second, she put people in here? Did she mean that she buried them herself, or did she mean that she was... like her? Nebula already felt that there was something about her and the strange, mysterious musician that seemed similar in some ways, particularly when it came to a lack of happiness, but... could it be that both of their pains are, in fact, the same kind of pain? "Y-you... p-put people here?" Nebula asked in a slightly frightened, yet slightly curious tone of voice. She wouldn't pry any further if told to back off of the subject, but as long as she wasn't disturbing anybody she intended on getting as much information about this strange woman as possible. If by "putting people here" meant what she thought could be the worst-case scenario... then it would be her duty as a cadet to take action, whether this woman was the only human being she could possibly relate anymore or not.

And then, the completely unexpected became the evident. The mystery guitar woman approached a trio of gravestones, knelt in force in front of it, and began to cry. This woman that seemed to be the very embodiment of mystery, intrigue and personal strenght was now weeping as if the world were scheduled to end the very next day and everybody she cared about was at the other hand of the planet. In fact, for all Nebula knew, that could possibly have been exactly how the musician felt that very instant. While Nebula was painfully familiar with the pain of loss, her loss had been self-imposed. She couldn't begin to fathom what it felt like to lose somebody to the cruel twists of fate.

Feeling a strange need to comfort this woman (Perhaps born out of simple empathy, or perhaps born out of a sense of projection), Nebula slowly approached the musician, knelt and slowly went for a hug. If at any point she showed signs of refusing, Nebula would back off and stand beside her instead.

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PostSubject: Re: The Pain That Defines Us [Ritsuko Zayasu :: Morning]   Wed Nov 30, 2016 10:35 pm

Her all-encompassing agony wrapped Ritsuko up in its smothering embrace as she wept. All the world was a stage for her own personal tragedy. Nothing existed but her, the grass beneath her feet, the mocking of the gentle wind and this terrible omen before her. The whirlpool of sorrow in her own mind spun ever more violent, erupting from her in wretched sobs of despair with increasing intensity. The more she thought about it the worse it had felt. Her heart shredded into bloody fragments as she twisted the knife herself, diving headfirst into the black pain.

She had never known loss like this. It had always been her destiny to cause pain and strife wherever she went. Their tool, she was. Born and bred to do nothing but kill for them. That wasn't true anymore. She did have things once upon a time. She had two parents and a bright future, she had the warmth and love of a family, she had safety, innocence, a soul. They stripped that away from her. Every unalienable right and thing in this world was stolen away, replaced by a bitter hate and bad memories. For everything they took out of her they put back something worse. She wished she could be hollow inside, but she wasn't, there was a radiating anger within Ritsuko that made her want to die. It never ceased or disappeared, even after they were all long gone from her life the ache persisted. It was exhausting to hate everything all the time, to know that you wouldn't be happy and that no one could understand you. Sometimes the despair would get the better of her and she would try to make it stop, but it always came back. Spite. Her stubborn pride. She refused to let them kill her before she could do the same. It was something they had taught her to do, and that realization alone caused her grief beyond imagining.

The weight of her pain was unbearable, sinking Ritz to her knees before her family.
"*sniff*...you weren't suh-supposed to let this happen...! I-It wuh, *sniff* wasn't supposed to be like this...!" she yowled as she trembled with raw emotion. Her scraped aviators fell from her face to clatter into the grass, revealing terribly pained and wet eyes. Raven hair licked at the grass as her shoulders rose and fell with her shallow sobs. She wasn't prepared for this. She would have never been. It would have been better to have never found them at all, but never like this. They weren't supposed to care. No one was supposed to care.

Time stood still for a moment as soft arms wrapped around her from behind. Her instincts told her to run away, to hide her hurt from anyone with ears and eyes, to take this trespasser within her sorrow and beat her face in until it was no longer recognizable... and those thoughts upset and scared her. She was a monster, all she did was destroy and hate. Nothing good ever came from her presence. She didn't want to hurt anyone anymore but she always knew she would anyway if she wanted to live. Ritsuko collapsed into the the blonde woman's arms, the last dregs of strength leaving her as she began to wail even louder. It reminded her too much of what she'd never had but always needed: someone to hold her and tell her things were going to be alright, even if she knew they wouldn't. The last time someone had tried to hug her was in foster care, back when physical contact traumatized her enough to kick and scream and bite at someone who was only trying to help her. Ritz would've stopped herself if she knew it would be another five years before anyone else would ever hold her again. She clutched at the artist's sleeve, digging her fingers in as if she would disappear if the loner didn't hold on tightly enough.

"*hup* Yuh-you...! *hup hup* Wuh-wer-weren't suh... supposed to cuh-care about me-e-e...!" shrieked the woman in pain, clawing her nails into the dirt and grass below.  Why did people have to care? ...why? Everything was so much easier when she could hate everyone, when she never had to open herself up to this kind of hurt. All she had left was her spite and anger, and people were even trying to take that away from her...

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PostSubject: Re: The Pain That Defines Us [Ritsuko Zayasu :: Morning]   Today at 6:48 pm

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