it's a little funny, and it's a little sad. [break][break]

the way things come around full circle, and the way her past comes to haunt her so (in the form of people, in the form of ghosts, in the form of torment from her own sins and the whispering ghost of a girl asking "how many more"). marisol's someone who killed her heart long ago, killed the man she thought was a ghost, the man who tormented and smiled (and whispered with venom dripping from honied sweet words) who thought that she would be free from this past, from the morality that kept her crying, hugging her knees in crisis and disdain. [break][break]

two years of hell, two years of questioning, and suffering, then isolation and denial as she sinks deeper into acceptance. she was young, they said. young and filled with hope, young with a silver spoon and ready, and prepared for greatness. young and a prodigy, of parents who would change this century. indeed, she'll change it (one needle at a time; one screaming and crying flesh mound at a time). [break][break]

the woman of a single, dulled violet gaze only huffs, softly, and you would think that she's expelling poison from her lungs. she'd take a pipe were it not bad for hospitals. ".. studying." her answer is curt, and short, and her gaze is distant though her lips are curled into a smile, and her eyes soften as she turns to meet his gaze. "i've.. been okay. how are you doing, dante?" with a tilt of her head, she lowers her drink. maybe she'll have another, later. [break][break]

"it's been too long~."

Dante Telos

☉

Ah, it was good to see that she still knew how to smile.[break][break]

”Mmn. I’ve been well, piccola,” he mused, the smile he wore broadening in light of the one she’d donned in response. Inhaling deeply and leisurely, he briefly shifted his attention towards the path before them as they walked along, taking a sip of his own drink. ”Sadly no changes with my memories, but, well…that’s something you know I’m not quite counting on becoming resolved…”[break][break]

A touch of wistfulness graced his lips before disappearing just as swiftly as it surfaced.[break][break]

”It really has been too long, though,” he went on, peering towards her a second time before eying the vast array of buildings and storefronts within an absentminded interest. ”How’re those studies treating you, though, mmn? Not too overworked, I hope~?”

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
notes

☉

maybe it's genuine. [break][break]

.. maybe a little bit of it is. [break][break]

because she'll be lying if she says it's for the sake of formalities. long gone are the days where marisol would put on a weak smile to her lips, and nervously stammer over her own words. nowadays, she's a little different. both hands clasp their fingers around the drink, and her eyes narrow as she starts to take another sip. it's sweet, almost disgustingly so, but it surprises her to know that dante's even remembered that about her. [break][break]

"if it's that bad, i'm still more than willing to try and help stimulate those memories to return.." she trails off, and the weight of her words are able to fully sink in. so, rather than following up, she shakes her head in thought. moving on. "it could be worse." she takes another swing of sugar "i think father's lectures were worse than my professor's exams~"

Dante Telos

☉

…Always from a logical standpoint.[break][break]

He hadn’t doubted that she would be able to devise some means of spurring his own psyche, but at the same time, it had truthfully been a matter that he hadn’t necessarily given up on, but rather came to terms with some time ago. There were a number of pros and cons to gaining his own memory and sense of prior identity back, after all.[break][break]

Despite that, he oddly found himself content enough where he was.[break][break]

”The thought is always appreciated, piccola,” he hummed, chuckling softly. He watched as she lifted the drink he’d gotten her up for a sip before doing the same with his own, eventually beginning to eye another storefront off to the side as a familiar array of musician’s equipment entered his line of sight. ”And that’s definitely a brighter side to matters, at the very least~...”

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
notes

☉

she knows better than to force consent when it comes to someone else's body (though her father would argue otherwise, and that it was always for the sake of science). it's different when it's.. an acquaintance. [break][break]

and taking another sip from her drink, she hums, and her smile broadens. it was always easier talking to him, and she wonders why it's so, but maybe it's the sugar putting her in a better mood. she always did have a sweet tooth. he stays optimistic, and his care for her comes from a place of concern. [break][break]

maybe that's what softens her up. [break][break]

the music store catches her eye, too, although instils a little less life than the sweet beverage keeping her fingers chilled. "i guess.." she trails, idly eyeing the piano that sits inside, through the window "although i'm expecting for things to get worse, somehow."[break][break]

it's a passing thought, really. [break][break]

"so.. did you only call me out to take a walk over a drink?~" she asks, gently shaking the drink with the ice hitting the chilled, plastic corners of the cup.

Dante Telos

☉

He laughed at her remarks, raising a brow higher than the other in amusement.[break][break]

”So pessimistic, little one…” he hummed with an idle smile, pursing his lips softly in faux, teasing judgment. Azure hues strayed briefly towards the woman in reception of his responses before tracing her gaze towards the window for another time. ”Truthfully, though, yes. All things considered, I just wanted to talk and catch up…”[break][break]

He eyed the numerous instruments within the displays for a while longer before turning his head towards her once more, giving her a soft nudge while nodding towards the storefront.[break][break]

”...It almost seems as though you wanna take a look, though~.”

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
notes

☉

maybe he's right about one thing. [break][break]

it's hard to recount when her pragmatism turned into pessimism, and she probably wouldn't notice until it's pointed out. she also wouldn't have noticed herself instinctively glaring through the window, and at the piano that was resting for display. when he does point that out, she immediately tries to turn her head away from the window, but she knows she's already been caught. [break][break]

"... you're going to insist that we go in, aren't you?" the answer is obvious, she's just desperately hoping that's not the case. specifically when he starts to nudge at her, and she raises her cup to take a longer sip of her beverage. with her head cooled with sweetness, she lets out a soft sigh, with another hand raised to the bridge of her nose to rub. [break][break]

".. we can go in for a little bit, but.. i just want to look at the piano."

Dante Telos

☉

”So you say, but it’s been several years by now,” he chuckled, equal parts content and amused within the face of her seeming exasperation. While she seemed to find some solace in rubbing her face, he merely gave her a soft pat on the shoulder before faintly further ahead, adding a swift, ”I wouldn’t mind hearing you play a song or two if you still remember how,” as his fingers wrapped around the handle of the door just a small ways away.[break][break]

He pulled it out, stepping to the side while propping the door open with his foot.[break][break]

”...In any case, after you, piccola~.”

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
notes

☉

it's just one memory after the other with this man.[break][break]

for someone who's forgotten about the past, he certainly remembers enough about her. it's exasperating, especially when she doesn't know how to exactly say no to him, specifically. especially when he's so eager to listen to her play the piano, like she used to (like mother used to). she doesn't want to show the expression to the man at the front counter, however, and wears a neutral expression once again as she steps into the little shop. [break][break]

the piano is made of beautifully cut wood, beautiful and bright, standing upright. it's not as intricate as a grand piano, but upright pianos always brought her good memories, anyhow. though her singing is nothing to write home about, unlike her mother's, she likes to think her piano playing was on par. [break][break]

despite the earlier reluctance and insistence, she moves to pull the tool out from underneath. her foot gently rests against the pedal, and a single eye glares at the familiarity of this all. should she love this, or hate this? [break][break]

".. one song." she sighs, lifting her fingers to rest upon the familiar plastic. "i'll play one song, only because you insist." [break][break]

then she takes a shot breath (the lingering anxiety from days long past still linger, and she despises every moment of it) before her fingers press upon the keys to play an old, familiar song. at least, one that he's probably recognized from old days when she played in her old father's house.

Dante Telos

☉

The scent of the store had been oddly nostalgic for the both of them, truthfully speaking.[break][break]

It hit him within a subtle wave as he followed in tow, and though he simply sought to follow after her as she made her way through the loose isles and shelves of the store, he found himself gazing about within an idly curious manner, all while relishing the air contained within the establishment as he breathed in.[break][break]

For a moment, he, himself, paused while running a gingerly finger along a nearby violin display.[break][break]

With note of her words and the melodies that soon followed, however, he merely glanced over his shoulder prior to properly and fully turning his form to face her; a simple smile upon his lips being the lone response to her words as she sat down and began to move her fingers along the piano display.[break][break]

He eyed her with a degree of amusement and interest, and—as the song pushed further and further within the fields of recognition—gave a soft chuckle under his breath before absentmindedly beginning to hum along.

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
notes

☉

it's easy to get lost in the music. [break][break]

marisol knows this better than anyone, which is why she's so firmly telling herself that she'll only play one song. and yet as she plays, the flow and rhythm of music makes itself so smooth to her ears. it's soft, and warm, and comforting (like a mother's warm embrace,) and yet-- [break][break]

there's a sudden shift, and break in the song, that leads into a transition of another song. it's heavier and stronger, and memories of her mother flood back for a moment (at least, enough for her to wear a glare and grimace at the piano keys when her fingers slam on them in a sudden crescendo). [break][break]

there's power in her keys, anger and resentment built up that's so buried deep in her heart; it's nothing that she's not accustomed to, but it culminates as she runs her fingers along the keys, finally into a soft, smooth transition back into the previous song she decided to initially play. [break][break]

and as the chord lowers and softens, her chest rises and falls with a sigh. ".. are you happy enough with this?" her voice blends in with the highs of the melody, and her fingertips slow to a soft, gentle stop.

Dante Telos

☉

The passion that met his ears had only been one of countless things that had proven to imbue a sense of nostalgia within him.[break][break]

Though a look of disdain had gradually overtaken her features as the performance shifted from crescendo to morendo (and from morendo to a simple, idling lull), there had been a sense of relief within his heart upon noting the sheer gravity of how easily taken to the music she’d proven to be. He hadn’t known the depths of what she’d endured during her time away. He’d been curious about it, though resigned to not pry too much about it, lest she be discomforted.[break][break]

At the very least, however, he found it nice to see her so invested within matters less…harmful.[break]
Harmful. Concerning.[break][break]

”...For now, mhm~,” he mused with a soft chuckle, nodding. He eyed the keys as they dwindled within the aftermath of the tune, only shifting towards her, altogether, as the last note rang within the air. ”I have to say, though, piccola— I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard you play anything, now that I think about it~...”

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
notes

☉

language is something she's had to learn. [break][break]

countless nights were spent reading dictionaries, translating, reading the different scientific texts and deciphering dialects of varying degrees on this poke-earth. mother and father insisted; so she always needed to know. she knows too many words in all different languages and pronunciations, knows the different ways to curse and to articulate. then she's learned that anyone can lie with words, regardless of the language. [break][break]

there's only one exception. [break][break]

music can't lie, or mask. there's no need to when no one reads deeply into it, and when everyone listens idly like it's the show that it is. maybe that's why no music tells lies. [break][break]

"it's because it's been so long." and she has no keyboard at home, though that doesn't stop her from occasionally playing the piano in public when she has the chance, or when she can play it in a bar, or a pokemon centre. some things never change. [break][break]

"father never really gave me the time to play."

Dante Telos

☉