Then you should have known better than me this place is probably got us on its shit list.
[ur welcome
The nice butterflies are so pretty, but they continue to stay out of reach. Frustrating. The dark butterflies, though...? Have noticed them. Jason isn't paying them a whole lot of mind right this second, but they are starting to converge toward him now that he's moving and obvious.]
Not a lot of them seem familiar, but they look tropical. Probably because the butterflies need the warmth.
[He doesn't go extremely far. The butterflies are light to the touch, so he doesn't notice through his jacket when the first one or two land on him.
It's weird. Right now, he's not much else except cautious, but the butterflies draw... a lot of anger out of him. The anger that he keeps the cap on (barely). It feels a lot like the unbridled rage he had when he first crawled out of the ground again, like the rage he had after being dipped in the Pit.
Chaotic and wild, burning rage.]
Something... isn't right.
[He slowly turns to face Estelle again. Another butterfly lands on the top of his hair, and he closes his hand around the hilt of the gun in the holster on his thigh.]
[Estelle's looking around at their surroundings, and she slowly meets his gaze for just a moment, before looking to his hand move to his holstered weapon.]
[looks at my past self typing hilt of a gun and laughs ok
His hand tightens. Another butterfly gently lands on his shoulder. Another. Until he has a slowly undulating mantle as they fan their wings. The bitterness that rises up in the pit of him is sour in his throat.
Why does he feel so… angry? And spurned?
He pulls the gun out after hesitating and aims it at Estelle. He’s thankfully not up in her space, but this means nothing when there’s a gun involved.]
[She freezes, looking down the barrel of the gun. It takes a moment to find the presence of mind to move... but she doesn't leave. Instead, she faces him directly.]
[His grip and the point of his arm are steadier than anything. But it looks like he's struggling to figure out whether he wants to put his finger on the trigger or not.]
Nothing's wrong! [His voice pitches. He can't keep the anger out of it, and he sounds pretty unhinged.] I said to get out of here! What're you still standing around for?!
[Her step forward makes him jerk back like a defensive animal, but he thankfully doesn't do anything with the gun except hold it.
Fortunately, doing this jostles the black butterflies which have settled on his shoulders, causing them to flap unsteadily away. He seems... a bit surprised by the immediate dispersing of the anger built inside him. His feelings clear.
He drops the gun so quickly to start putting it back in the holster, and he doesn't waste any time darting for Estelle.] We have to go. [He reaches out to try to grab her by the upper arm.]
[Why is he such a cynic to this very nice girl who took the time to deal with his stupid traumatized ass? Awful.]
Don't go back in there unless you go with someone else, and don't let them touch the butterflies. Honestly, I'd avoid that room altogether. It was fucking with my emotions.
[DON'T JUST SMILE AT HIS WARNING. And don't say sappy stuff. He does not like that he cannot be grumpy or an asshole to this girl as a deflection because she continues to be nice.]
It wasn't great, no. So don't go in there. [Butterfly garden already on Jason's hit list.] And don't mess around with all the doors in that one hallway.
[Great. She's already gone in some. But, like, who else here hasn't probably? He is not sure why he is surprised by this based on her profile quote. But he is.]
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[It's so weird to get new things........ They never got shit all on the island. Wild. Imagine having different locations and stuff.
He shifts around her to slowly and casually walk a bit more into the garden.]
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[She sighs. Estelle kind of wanted to enjoy the pretty garden. Thanks, Jason.]
I don't recognize a lot of these plants... Maybe because they only grow in warmer climates?
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[ur welcome
The nice butterflies are so pretty, but they continue to stay out of reach. Frustrating. The dark butterflies, though...? Have noticed them. Jason isn't paying them a whole lot of mind right this second, but they are starting to converge toward him now that he's moving and obvious.]
Not a lot of them seem familiar, but they look tropical. Probably because the butterflies need the warmth.
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Seeing one of the sparkling white butterflies nearby, she tries reaching a hand out to it, but it just flies away.]
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It's weird. Right now, he's not much else except cautious, but the butterflies draw... a lot of anger out of him. The anger that he keeps the cap on (barely). It feels a lot like the unbridled rage he had when he first crawled out of the ground again, like the rage he had after being dipped in the Pit.
Chaotic and wild, burning rage.]
Something... isn't right.
[He slowly turns to face Estelle again. Another butterfly lands on the top of his hair, and he closes his hand around the hilt of the gun in the holster on his thigh.]
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What's wrong?
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His hand tightens. Another butterfly gently lands on his shoulder. Another. Until he has a slowly undulating mantle as they fan their wings. The bitterness that rises up in the pit of him is sour in his throat.
Why does he feel so… angry? And spurned?
He pulls the gun out after hesitating and aims it at Estelle. He’s thankfully not up in her space, but this means nothing when there’s a gun involved.]
Get out of here.
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... Tell me what's wrong.
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Nothing's wrong! [His voice pitches. He can't keep the anger out of it, and he sounds pretty unhinged.] I said to get out of here! What're you still standing around for?!
You want to die?!
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[She takes a slow, cautious step forward.]
I think you were right about this place. Let's leave, okay?
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Fortunately, doing this jostles the black butterflies which have settled on his shoulders, causing them to flap unsteadily away. He seems... a bit surprised by the immediate dispersing of the anger built inside him. His feelings clear.
He drops the gun so quickly to start putting it back in the holster, and he doesn't waste any time darting for Estelle.] We have to go. [He reaches out to try to grab her by the upper arm.]
Now.
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She doesn't stop him when he grabs her arm.]
Yes, let's.
[She'll hurry with him, through the garden, back out to the hallway. Once outside...]
... Are you okay now?
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He releases her arm once they break out of the garden, and he stops walking so he can glare back at it while trying to level his composure.]
What the fuck was that…
[It’s funny because nothing like this ever happened in Jason’s previous game. He seems to refocus and glance at Estelle.]
—Yeah. I’m good. […] Sorry.
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I'm just glad you were able to come back.
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[Imagine if he did not come back, and he had a gun. Speaking of, he looks back at Estelle again.]
Why didn't you run? You should have run when I started telling you to go. There's no reason for you to try to be a hero.
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I was scared, but I was more scared of what would happen if I left you like that...
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[Why is he such a cynic to this very nice girl who took the time to deal with his stupid traumatized ass? Awful.]
Don't go back in there unless you go with someone else, and don't let them touch the butterflies. Honestly, I'd avoid that room altogether. It was fucking with my emotions.
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Some things are worth the trouble.
You're right, though... I'll be careful. That must have felt terrible.
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It wasn't great, no. So don't go in there. [Butterfly garden already on Jason's hit list.] And don't mess around with all the doors in that one hallway.
They're just as bad.
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You be careful too, okay? ... Jason, right?
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Yeah. Estellise?
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[He's finally probably joking again.]
Estelle then. Where you headed? I'm walking you there so you don't try to do anything stupid.
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...Um, back to my room... Cassiopeia North wing, room 21.
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Yeah. You're, like, a door down from me and Gautier. The princeling is your suitemate, right? He's alright.
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