“[color=black]I know.” And oh, did she. The world wasn’t kind to people who stopped caring about themselves and neither was Radeken. So if she squinted, this was all a part of some cosmic duty of hers, maybe. Not packaged and delivered by some higher power, though. I am the highest power, she thought darkly. Rad knew he didn’t care what happened to him, she knew he was going to stay on this same path unless someone knocked him off of it (and since it was in her best interest that he not do that, she was already prepared to combat that sort of interference), and she knew he was a liar, liar, liar. Lying about being alright, lying about his death. Fortunately for him it wasn’t in her nature to expose him just as it wasn’t in her nature to shoot herself in the foot. Everything was working out just fine for her and she didn’t give a rat’s ass how it was for him (how it was to him really, not how it was for the apathy, the addiction).
“[color=black]The little sadist.” She noted flatly about Beck as he recounted the incident. “[color=black]And you did. Everyone loses consciousness before dying when they’re suffocating. Unless something else happens to them first, I guess.” Choking someone out took a long time and to people who weren’t weird, that was frustrating enough to resort to some other quicker way of killing halfway through. Frustration streamlines everything.
She pursed her lips when he mentioned his souls. Radeken didn’t like that. The whole concept fascinated her, but what drove needles into her sides was that she wasn’t sure how to analyze it. You can’t measure a soul, can you? You can’t dissect it, touch it, smell it. She hadn’t even thought souls were real, but everyone else seemed to buy it. She still took it with a grain of salt every time he brought them up. “[color=black]I’m sorry,” There was a pause. “[color=black]About the vanilla.” She explained quickly. “[color=black]Terrible smell.” Sickly and cloying and too, too heavy. “[color=black]Drink up.” She relinquished the tea and stepped back to record what had been shared.
“[color=black]The little sadist.” She noted flatly about Beck as he recounted the incident. “[color=black]And you did. Everyone loses consciousness before dying when they’re suffocating. Unless something else happens to them first, I guess.” Choking someone out took a long time and to people who weren’t weird, that was frustrating enough to resort to some other quicker way of killing halfway through. Frustration streamlines everything.
She pursed her lips when he mentioned his souls. Radeken didn’t like that. The whole concept fascinated her, but what drove needles into her sides was that she wasn’t sure how to analyze it. You can’t measure a soul, can you? You can’t dissect it, touch it, smell it. She hadn’t even thought souls were real, but everyone else seemed to buy it. She still took it with a grain of salt every time he brought them up. “[color=black]I’m sorry,” There was a pause. “[color=black]About the vanilla.” She explained quickly. “[color=black]Terrible smell.” Sickly and cloying and too, too heavy. “[color=black]Drink up.” She relinquished the tea and stepped back to record what had been shared.