[Thank you for leaving the assholery to Kanda and Karma.
Camille's brows meet in a slow crawl, matching the glacial pace of her lips parting to a disdainful gape. Of all the miracles that magic might make possible, this is the one they get stuck with?]
What piece of shit thought this was funny? [Death, War, Pestilence, Famine? Someone working higher than all four.]
You don't have to explain anything, okay? Not to me or anyone.
[So she speaks, but then lettering blooms in a poetic paragraph across her neck.
a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.]
[It's a natural reaction to have, he thinks, but the adamant way she says it 'you don't have to explain' takes him by surprise all the same. He opens his mouth to reply, probably something light -- just to take the edge off a situation that Camille is right to be upset by, but doesn't have to be -- at least not for him. He's totally fine!
And then his eye darts to the letters forming across her neck. after a bit, he taps his own neck in the same spot,]
...You don't have to either.
[even though he's curious, even though the words spark in his mind and remain there.]
[He could lie. But he doesn't know Camille -- he wouldn't be able to think of something to say that would sound plausible. He could twist it into a joke, say something like 'bugs', but the ship to make a joke of it has sailed on. This is why it doesn't pay to be vulnerable -- it makes wearing a front even harder.
Camille had shown him kindness. And here he is, about to ruin her day.]
'A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.'
quit ur job so i can pay u to rp forever
and then he sighs, tugging the scarf down to see if it'll cover the words.... which it does, for now...]
Really not a fan of whatever's goin' on this week.
what if i also pay u to rp forever....we drain our collective savings
What do you mean? Is something going around?
[Curse, sickness. God's hand reaching down to scribble in your sins in crayon. Really hoping it's not the latter.]
MUTUAL HAPPPINESS (DESTRUCTION)
It's... magic, I think? Words keep appearing on our bodies. They say stuff like your fears and regrets.
They keep showing even if you cover up too, like this. [he nods his chin over to the words now also shining through his scarf.]
no subject
Camille's brows meet in a slow crawl, matching the glacial pace of her lips parting to a disdainful gape. Of all the miracles that magic might make possible, this is the one they get stuck with?]
What piece of shit thought this was funny? [Death, War, Pestilence, Famine? Someone working higher than all four.]
You don't have to explain anything, okay? Not to me or anyone.
[So she speaks, but then lettering blooms in a poetic paragraph across her neck.
a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.]
no subject
And then his eye darts to the letters forming across her neck. after a bit, he taps his own neck in the same spot,]
...You don't have to either.
[even though he's curious, even though the words spark in his mind and remain there.]
no subject
She touches her neck, mimicking the gesture and feeling no telling grooves. Whatever's written here can't be felt.
It feels rather like a personal fuck you. She's got a history with words. She doesn't need anything using it against her.]
What does it say?
no subject
Camille had shown him kindness. And here he is, about to ruin her day.]
'A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.'
abandons lore reveal for affection week
...Guess we're both in the shit, then.
[Camille looks away. Her stomach takes a giddy turn. Her skin hums, itches, abraded by the snug fit of her jeans.]
I'm gonna go have a lie down.