open

[testcase]

Who: Ryoko and you!
Where: The Gardens
When: October 15th
Rating: PG
Summary: Ryoko exploring the gardens!
The Story:

Today, Ryoko can be found outside, strolling around the gardens with her notebook open, writing down her observations and notes about it. She thinks she should have had notes on this place, but there's nothing in her book. There's some notes about a flood during a prior event, so maybe they were lost then?

Or maybe she never wrote anything down beyond that the gardens existed. Most of her notes about Wonderland's geography pertain to inside the mansion, so she must've thought this place wasn't important. It had nothing to do with her.

But she did write that she was going to try and not write things off as having nothing to do with her as often as she used to, and yes the note's old, but since she noticed it again today, she's trying to correct what was probably an oversight on her part.

So she'll be spending most of her day out here, this way when she forgets about this place again, she'll at least have her notes to fall back on if she decides to visit this part of the grounds again.

Comments

[testcase]

"According to this, I keep the filled notebooks in my room and start a new one."

It's not the best system in the world, but she wouldn't have written it down if it didn't work. Probably.

[postictal]

"So you...you just kind of have to hope you're carrying stuff that's important."

God. No, it's not the best system at all. And unfortunately, it's not like he can think of a better one. He's not used to being the problem-solver. He's not exactly good at that sort of thing.

He's not good at a lot of things.

[testcase]

"Um, that's right. I know it sounds bad, but it works out. Most of the time."

Maybe 90% of the time. Which is kind of strange given that the percentage should be a lot lower. But nobody seems to really notice that. Ryoko sure hasn't, at any rate.

[postictal]

"Guess it's as good a system as you can hope for." One corner of his mouth twitches, lifting tiredly, before that fleeting, almost-moment dissipates as swiftly as it arrived. "I'm - god, I'm sorry. I'm not really all that great at talking about this stuff."

Mostly because his offers to talk are seldom, if ever, actually responded to. Because why would anyone take him up on that?

[testcase]

"It's okay. I know it's not the best solution, it can't be, but it's what I'm used to. And it's worked for me so far."

As far as she knows anyway. And she'll try and lighten the mood a little.

"At least if it hasn't, I don't remember it!"

Another attempt at self deprecating humor over here.

[postictal]

He'd like to laugh. Really, he would. He's just - not exactly someone who laughs real easy, is the thing. At all, really. Being anhedonic will do that to you, but it makes shit like this a hell of a lot more awkward than it needs to be. The deprecating slant to her words isn't lost on him, and his gaze drops to his battered shoes.

"Does this...do you think this'd help? At all?"

Why is he doing this? Why is he seeking some kind of warped fucking validation from her? Because she won't remember it?

That isn't fair. That isn't fucking fair, and he of all people should know.

[testcase]

"I don't know if it'll help, but it can't hurt."

As far as she knows anyway.

"And I think with my condition, I kind of have to take what I can get with things like that. Because it's not like much helps anyway."

Which isn't exactly a happy thought, but she doesn't seem as bothered by it as she should be.

[postictal]

"You just kinda get used to it by this point, huh?"

That's something, at least, that he can understand. Something he can even accept in its familiarity. After a certain point, you just reach a threshold where you can't be bothered to be sent spiraling into your own distress anymore.

What's the point in that? Especially if you're not even gonna remember it.

[testcase]

"As much as someone who can't remember can get used to it. Besides, I don't think I really have a choice besides trying to get used to it."

It's not like she can really do anything else.

[postictal]

His eyes shut briefly in a movement that almost looks pained. He looks away, out over the multicolored sprays of blooms and leaves and the red-orange cast that autumn lends everything.

"I guess you're right," he says quietly, and looks back to her. "Do you think this is...is this likely to help, at all? Or am I just...?"

Is he just shouting into the void to assuage some sense of responsibility and concern for her?

[testcase]

"Um..."

She's still really not sure what to say here. But she thinks there's an important question to ask.

"I don't know if it'll help me, but do you think it'll help you?"

[postictal]

"I'm not the one that needs helping right now, I guess."

That's another lie. Another dirty fucking lie, because he's a liar, and this is - it's manipulation, straight up, he knows. Even if it's well-intentioned, it's a lie that she won't question because he knows she'll forget to question it.

He really is the worst kind of person.