[ YEAH! maybe they're somewhere on wiwaldi campus, even though sylvain's had enough of school for a bit.
at any rate, he doesn't look all too happy, for a number of reasons. after a couple of memory slips he's resigned himself to the invasion of privacy, but still. it's deeply personal, and not something he wants to dredge up in the middle of day, or when he sleeps. certainly not something he wants to explain—though really the memory probably says it all. ]
[That's fair and valid of Sylvain, honestly. Jason gets that.]
It gets a little better, but it never goes away.
[It sounds like he's speaking from experience. He opens his mouth to say something else, but the stardust comes again, and he mutters a quick, panicked, Shit under his breath.
Sylvain gets a memory, but it isn't a good one unfortunately.]
[ sylvain laughs, though the sound of it is more like a huff ]
No, it doesn't.
[ they're interrupted by another memory. jason's this time. it's acute, painful, and sylvain immediately feels ill.
he is no stranger to violence, but for all the beatings he's suffered at miklan's hands, it was a subtler form of torture. cunning and calculated, only enough to terrorize sylvain, make him hurt, but never so overt to cause any ramifications.
this is... grotesque. worse than the war in many ways, where deaths on the battlefield had been messy, but with distinct purpose. this is savagery. ]
[He's dealing with it a little better after having had this happen a few times. But barely. Hanging on by a single, fragile thread.
His knuckles are white, and his arms tremble. There's a feral, sort of wild look in his eyes--anxiety. He tries to keep his breathing level, low instead of loud and ragged.]
[ sylvain mutters a searing curse under his breath
how does he even comfort someone after all that? he understands now why jason acted the way he did, cornered during their first trial here. he feels a bit stupid for trying to lecture him for it afterwards. (as if he understood a damn thing about him at all) ]
...I'd ask if you're okay, but I'm guessing you've got the same answer I do.
What? That we're trying to ignore the fact we're not okay by pretending we are? Yeah.
[Sometimes, Jason doesn't even pretend, but he makes it into a joke, so no one really takes him seriously. But that's fine by him since he hates the sympathy--he sees it as pity and charity even if it isn't, even if it's good people being good people.]
[ yeah, sylvain gets that entirely. he's spun up not just a mask but an entire persona for himself. it's not something you really want anyone else to know about you. ]
Haha... I'll pretend I didn't see anything, if you'll do the same.
[ ... ] On a serious note, I hope you have someone you can talk to. Doesn't have to be me, but it helps.
[ as much as he pretends, he also knows that sometimes pretending gets exhausting. ]
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at any rate, he doesn't look all too happy, for a number of reasons. after a couple of memory slips he's resigned himself to the invasion of privacy, but still. it's deeply personal, and not something he wants to dredge up in the middle of day, or when he sleeps. certainly not something he wants to explain—though really the memory probably says it all. ]
...For the most part. It was a long time ago.
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It gets a little better, but it never goes away.
[It sounds like he's speaking from experience. He opens his mouth to say something else, but the stardust comes again, and he mutters a quick, panicked, Shit under his breath.
Sylvain gets a memory, but it isn't a good one unfortunately.]
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No, it doesn't.
[ they're interrupted by another memory. jason's this time. it's acute, painful, and sylvain immediately feels ill.
he is no stranger to violence, but for all the beatings he's suffered at miklan's hands, it was a subtler form of torture. cunning and calculated, only enough to terrorize sylvain, make him hurt, but never so overt to cause any ramifications.
this is... grotesque. worse than the war in many ways, where deaths on the battlefield had been messy, but with distinct purpose. this is savagery. ]
That was you...?
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His knuckles are white, and his arms tremble. There's a feral, sort of wild look in his eyes--anxiety. He tries to keep his breathing level, low instead of loud and ragged.]
Yeah.
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how does he even comfort someone after all that? he understands now why jason acted the way he did, cornered during their first trial here. he feels a bit stupid for trying to lecture him for it afterwards. (as if he understood a damn thing about him at all) ]
...I'd ask if you're okay, but I'm guessing you've got the same answer I do.
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What? That we're trying to ignore the fact we're not okay by pretending we are? Yeah.
[Sometimes, Jason doesn't even pretend, but he makes it into a joke, so no one really takes him seriously. But that's fine by him since he hates the sympathy--he sees it as pity and charity even if it isn't, even if it's good people being good people.]
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Haha... I'll pretend I didn't see anything, if you'll do the same.
[ ... ] On a serious note, I hope you have someone you can talk to. Doesn't have to be me, but it helps.
[ as much as he pretends, he also knows that sometimes pretending gets exhausting. ]
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Yeah, no problem. [He is good at pretending he didn't see shit as long as the shit is not a sociopathic bad guy preying on the innocent.] Deal.
[He waves a hand dismissively, but pathetically.]
Can't I just compartmentalize and ignore it like everyone else?
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[ what they decide to do with their trauma (and what comes out of it) is up to them, alas... ]