He narrowed his eyes as the words met his ears, watching as she took the bottle from him before leaning forward with arms upon his knees, and with hands folded loosely within the space between them. Amber hues trailed towards the flame before them as he hummed, idly mulling over the vast array of words that he could say, or should say, or otherwise.[break][break]

”...What was the situation, if you don’t mind me asking?” had been the words to eventually leave his lips.

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
mission: hot summer nights

☉

she does mind him asking. [break][break]

and she knows that saying more will sprout more questions, and will make a man more curious (and maybe he'll doubt her a little bit; maybe he'll get more cautious, and she doesn't know how to feel about scaring someone away). he's curious and she's reluctant to touch up on it more, though she should have known when she dug this grave for herself. [break][break]

it's hoping for a bit much when she wants to stick a leg in it and call it a day. [break][break]

"a very bad, and unstable mental state." and a horrible memory, but no lie. and the majority of them were spared from her episodes when she snapped and when she cracked, though the days trying to recover were blurry. then there's a wry chuckle, though the smile still fails to reach her eyes. [break][break]

"i've gotten better" if you'll count her current demeanour as "recovered". "i'm not socially anxious, to the point of being inept." if you listen closely, you can catch a tone of disgust. [break][break]

disgust at herself.

Leonidas Stone

☉

More silence on his end.[break]
Processing.[break][break]

The words hadn’t been lost upon him, however, and though they hadn’t a coherent response at first, there had been a couple of hums of acknowledgment to ensure that he had, indeed, been listening along. His gaze hadn’t strayed from the flames crackling before the two of them, although his fingers tapped softly against one another in absentminded emphasis of thought as they hung between his knees.[break][break]

”...I’m glad you’ve gotten better about it, at the very least,” he mused softly at first. A small smile returned to his lips. Forthcoming. Genuine. ”Not everyone’s able to say that about themselves in the end. …Even if you haven’t met all the goals you wanna meet, the goals that have been met still mean something…”[break][break]

He inhaled deeply as the smile faded from his lips once more, his fingers ceasing and instead bridging themselves within an idle hold amidst one another, once more.[break][break]

It was quick to return again as a chuckle left his lips.[break][break]

”...But you definitely are still really rough around the edges sometimes. Just putting that out there~.”

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
mission: hot summer nights

☉

isn't that a surprise?[break][break]

he sounds like someone she knows, someone who knew her before the drastic change (before she killed who she was, and was left unsure of who she wanted to be). her eyes slowly shut, though now she rises a hand to gently hook under the eyepatch she wears, tugging the white string from behind her ears. [break][break]

the dual tone of violet and ashen blue turn to gaze at the passing clouds in the night. her chest rises, then lowers, and the words escape her in the face of the endless night. "am i?" she hums, folding the eyepatch to press into the lap of her skirt. [break][break]

"i think i'm in a better state now" and she pauses, wearing a small, yet wry smile on her lips "compared to how i acted while we were trapped in the cyberscape, that is." [break][break]

the panic isn't something she can forget easily. she'll still wish.

Leonidas Stone

☉

…Ah. That’s right.[break]
The mirage island.[break][break]

Though the smile had been quick to return to him, even the faintest of recollections of the event all too recent had caused an unbeknownst wryness to embed itself within it as he hummed in thought. Being fresh within his mind had been a difficult matter in itself, and having experienced the sort of things he had within the latter half of it had admittedly imbued a sense of…discomfort. Recalling the frustration in recent days had been an unwelcome experience to some degree.[break][break]

It was so far off from who he was, after all.[break]
…It was also frightening to realize what happened in retrospect, as well.[break][break]

And yet, as he thought briefly upon the event, he couldn’t help but remember another thing; a detail that he, himself, had some inklings and suspicions about for a fair amount of time after seeing things by chance, and though he’d looked into it once every so often, the things he’d seen had more or less confirmed it.[break][break]

He narrowed his eyes at the flame in thought for a few moments before side eying her.[break][break]

”...On the note of that, though, that’s…honestly been something on my mind for a while, now,” he murmured, furrowing his brows softly. ”You are her, then. …The Olson kid. That’s why I saw you looking into the articles and stuff every so often.”

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
mission: hot summer nights

☉

he figured it out. [break][break]

it's no surprise, if you think about it. he's not dumb, and he isn't naive. he's someone who was able to get where he was through work (and through the credentials attached to the surname, but she can't judge when she was the exact same), and he's someone who's been able to survive thus long. blindly faithful and optimistic as he is, he's still bright. [break][break]

that doesn't make his question hit any softer. it's irritating when the expected still hits you as hard as the unexpected. her eyes widen at how easily he brings it up, although she hopes that it's not too visible, and she's making sure that he doesn't catch it by keeping an eye on his gaze - now directed to the sparks. then directed back at her, and she's trying to return to her neutral expression. [break][break]

she fails. [break][break]

olson is a name that sparks.. something, in her apathetic heart. the fingers curled into the palm of her hand is restraint from lashing out, and from snapping, saying 'it's not true', wanting to deny the question so violently that it screams 'yes, you hit the bullseye'. but she isn't wendy, anymore. she isn't impulsive. she's marisol. [break][break]

a shaky breath leaves her lips as she lowers her gaze, this time with the clear intent of not looking him in the eye. there's no use in denying it, when it looks like he's already come to his conclusion. when his conclusion was right. [break][break]

"yes" she speaks softly, dual-toned eyes narrowed, almost gazing at nothingness. it'd be beetter if there were nothing. "although i'm a little surprised you brought up the articles" she begins "their research is everywhere in biology, and chemistry.." well deserved achievements that make her want to gag, knowing the people behind the papers. just thinking about it is starting to light something in her tired heart. [break][break]

"how did you come to that conclusion?"

Leonidas Stone

☉

…In some way, it was a bit relieving to know that she, as distant and generally calm as she always seemed to be, hadn’t been immune to bouts and displays of shock and discomfort. Although his eyes remained upon her in tandem to an unchanging expression, he couldn’t help but note the shift within her eyes almost instantaneously.[break][break]

It was rather uncharacteristic for her, after all.[break][break]

Nevertheless, however, his chest raised and held itself for a couple of moments as a breath found its way in, only expelling itself with a subtle degree of pensiveness as a sigh soon left him. ”Well, aside from the stuff on the island?” he hummed, quirking his lip. ”’Cause, like… I’d honestly been suspicious for a ‘lil while, but that’s what, like locked it in...”[break][break]

He clicked his tongue in thought several times, another hum leaving him as he rubbed his neck.[break][break]

”...There’s a few things, but from what glimpses I could steal, it always seemed to be their specific articles, honestly,” he began once more, eventually, as his hand fell back into his lap. ”It’s one thing to take inspiration from specific people, but even then, it always seemed like some other sort of—... Fixation? I don’t think that’s the right word, but it’s the first one that came to mind…”

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
mission: hot summer nights

☉

ah, so he was suspicious. [break][break]

she can't blame him, not when she's spent so much time reading their articles (although it's annoying, knowing that part of the reason was because she had to), on top of the seeming sudden disappearance of their only child a year or two ago. wendy was a genius of her own right; someone so young would have been able to teach. someone so young would have been able to graduate by now (someone so young was able to hold a scalpel and perform such precise surgeries, at a age where people are only graduating into post-secondary. she had the experience and the knowledge, and a wealthy family to boot). [break][break]

her knees curl in closer, anyways. it's not a good memory.[break][break]

"you're too perceptive." she'll say it like it's irritating, but really she doesn't mind. it's let him connect the dots this easily, after all. despite that, you can say that she's made it too obvious. before it all went to shit, she was a nursing student. now, she's still a nursing student, trying to finish up her degree after putting it aside for so long. it's this in conjunction with reading her parents' articles often that can give that impression, even though the previous wendy was all so known for avoiding the crowds, and cowering behind her father. [break][break]

there's no use hiding it from him. [break][break]

the shock has settled on her face, but not yet her arms and legs as they tuck themselves closer against her torso and stomach. and there's silence as she ponders it, then her gaze seems to lower as her eyelids close to a half-open state. maybe she shouldn't be worried about this; it's out of character for marisol. ".. are you mad?" [break][break]

she asks with such a soft, sheepish tone and voice. it's reminiscent of the tone she took back at mirage island, with a portion of the anxiety wendy had. "i lied to you, about myself."

Leonidas Stone

☉

’Too perceptive,’ she said.[break]
He chuckled.[break][break]

Yet, the chuckle in itself had been followed by naught more than a bout of his own silence; hues of amber straying slowly and idly from her prior to finding the dancing fire within their line of sight once more. He gazed upon the whirling sparks as their tongues of flame moved within their erratic tango. His fingers tapped atop his knee absentmindedly.[break][break]

It proceeded to begin shifting towards the horizon, as well, though its journey through the surroundings had faltered and brought itself to a pause upon noting the words spoken to him once more— though it had been the uncharacteristic softness twined within them that had ultimately caused him to peer over. For several moments, he simply gazed upon her (her form, so reclusive and seemingly self barricading) as both sight and speech registered within his mind.[break][break]

He hummed, bringing his eyes back towards the horizon.[break][break]

”Not really mad, no. I’ll admit that it’s made me wary in the past, though~.” The smile upon his lips turned idle, faltering faintly. ”You’ve always been so secretive, after all. It was easy to get a read on your personality, but not so much about who you were.”[break][break]

Another bout of thoughtful silence before he turned another eye towards her, shrugging.[break][break]

”Even then, though, I can’t say you’ve been lying,” he added on. ”There’s a lot of things I don’t know about you, I’m sure— but even if I’d like to learn more about both, I know Marisol, not Wendy. …It’s hard to say you’ve lied about who you were when I never really knew one of the people involved~.”

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
mission: hot summer nights

☉

he's weird. [break][break]

that's the only explanation. he's weird, he's odd, there's some kind of screw loose up in his head (but if that's the case, what does it make her?) that makes it hard for her to understand. there was a need to curl in on herself and put a wall between them, and to hide away into the darkness like she used to when he speaks, especially after knowing that he was cautious, or skeptical, or had an inkling about something she's trying to keep buried so deep in her head, and in her heart. [break][break]

does he ever stop smiling? ah, no, there was the time on mirage island, where he looked like he was just about ready to leave her in the dust, or behind, without a care in the world. it's the expression and the vibe that he got from someone who was the exact opposite of the usual. if it staggered marisol thinking back on it, how much did it affect wendy? or, rather, how much did it affect what remained of wendy after she was already finished with her. [break][break]

he doesn't stop smiling, still, even in his silence. [break][break]

it's so hard to wrap her head around his behaviour, even when it's blaring, even when he tells her exactly what it is; it's difficult for her to understand. her body is still curled, huddled to itself, and still it tries to push him out, metaphorically, when he verbally pokes so gently at marsiol (because the anxious part of her that she forced into a shell is starting to crack again; it's the part of her that's desperately trying to bash itself against the innards of its egg to be set free again, and she hates it; doesn't it remind her of too many people from too many times?)[break][break]

"you've met wendy during the events of mirage island." much to her chagrin, but what's done is done. because she knows, no matter how she tries to separate herself by referring to her by another name, she isn't fooling anyone. maybe it's this fact that makes it harder to accept, and makes her curl up more as her eyes are focused on nothingness. [break][break]

until dual colours that match slightly, yet are still different enough to tell apart, maintain a steady gaze on idle amber. [break][break]

".. still, wendy is dead to the world." she's been dead to her mother, to her father, and to rocket "she's dead with her parents." and yet here she is, laying down, unsure of where her words are taking her again. she thought she'd be above rambling by now. it looks like she isn't. [break][break]

".. and you have no questions?" [break][break]

about how she's here? how she's alive?

Leonidas Stone

☉

”If I asked, would you even answer~?” he mused, chuckling with equal parts curiosity and teasing, all the same. With a softened raise of the brows, he tilted his head ever so faintly whilst eying her longer. ”Whether you think you’ve lied or not, you’ve at least made it clear that you’re secretive~.”[break][break]

He tapped his fingers against one another, drawing a gaze down towards the grains of sand beneath him for a small while before closing his eyes, altogether.[break][break]

”...There may have been ulterior motives, but I’d also just like to think that’s part of the personality you’ve developed for yourself.” His eyes opened faintly, a narrowed hue of sparkling amber reflecting the tongues of flame as he idly eyed the ground. ”In the case of the latter, I have nothing but respect, ‘cause that’s just how you are.”[break][break]

His smile gradually faded within the moments following his words; a glaze of thoughtfulness instead taking the reins of expression as his frame lifted and expanded with a deep breath that only escaped him after several moments’ worth of reprieve. Pursing faintly, his lips fell neutral as a soft hum escaped them.[break][break]

”...I have many questions, to say the least,” he eventually went on, resting his chin against the curl of his fingers. ”For now, though, I’ll leave it up to you to decide how much you wanna share.”

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
mission: hot summer nights

☉

she wouldn't, and he already knew the answer. [break][break]

it seems pointless to say it when he already knows so well. even though he's teasing (and she knows that he is), the better part of her can't help but to feel the guilt when he's being so light-hearted. because marisol, you're starting to push someone away when they've already found you out, and you've already done that with enough people (there's a nagging in the back of your head telling you to try something new, and to say something, or maybe try to tell yourself that this time, certainly, you have no ulterior motives. the flawed one in you asks "what's one more?")[break][break]

but if she's being honest, there were no ulterior motives. that's not to say she isn't crafty enough for them; she is. however now she's unable to follow them through - that is to say, she was never able to follow through manipulation to begin with. before, it was the guilt that would devour her alive. now, it's the apathy and fatigue that keep her. [break][break]

a solemn expression and a fading smile is rare for him - why does he drop it? is it because of the topic? that'd make sense; it'd probably be weirder for him if he kept smiling, but she's so used to it now that it's foreign and unsettling when it drops. it reminds her a little of mirage island, even though the vibe and energy that exudes from his demeanour is always the exact opposite. he's odd. he's odd. [break][break]

he has so much faith. [break][break]

where does it come from? this lack of suspicion, and visible skepticism and cautiousness is unsettling. it's nothing like rocket, when she had to fear for her identity being leaked. it was nothing like rocket, when she was fearful of her actions, when she was living in fear of something taking the reins, and that something casing damage she can never repair. [break][break]

she wants to think more on it, but she shakes her head, slightly. marisol shouldn't be thinking this deeply. she'll assume that he knows, or has at least done a little bit of research on her now, if he's suspected her identity. if he knew about how she was missing, she'll assume he also knew about her involvement in rocket - as covered up as it was through the use of connections. ah, it's annoying when she has to gauge the knowledge people have. it's easier to ask up front. [break][break]

so with the spark in her eye dwindling, and in a calmer, collected (deader) tone, she asks ".. how much do you know?" because she doesn't want to overshare, like earlier. up goes the wall, again.

Leonidas Stone

☉

”How much do you think I know?”[break][break]

A question to answer a question in all of its slow burning glory. Though the words had left his lips in response to hers, and though his attention had naught else to be than her, his eyes seemed to simply linger upon the flickering tongues of flame within the sanctity of the pit he’d prepared prior to the woman’s arrival. As if deeply pensive for the first time in what most would have likely deemed to be the first time (outside of a business setting, at the very least) his eyelids fell further as they dwindled upon the licks of heat no more than a foot or so from him.[break][break]

The hues of hazel that glimmered so brightly amidst its reflection closed before long.[break][break]

”It’s like a day or two ago when you helped me collect Sharpedo teeth,” he hummed softly, subtly surrendering himself to the calming crackling of the flames as the words left his lips. Fingertips met knuckles as he tapped the formerly against the latter absentmindedly. ”I could say something, and it could either give you a frame of reference for I do know, or it’ll give you a frame of reference for what you’ll do.”[break][break]

He opened his eyes, faintly, to gaze upon the sands within an idle manner.[break][break]

”...Specifically, how vague you’ll choose to be~.”[break][break]

With shoulders and chest lifting gradually within the midst of a deepened breath, he lowered his hands—continuously joined and folded as they were—while sitting up all the more straighter. Still, his gaze loomed upon the sands as he tapped a thumb against the other, shutting his eyes once more in idle thought.[break][break]

”...On one hand, you can’t learn about a friend without asking— but on the other, if that friend is wont to steer around things, giving information is also a bit of a finicky thing.”[break][break]

He turned his head, side eying her from the edge of his peripheral at long last.[break][break]

”...Everything begets everything,” he added, his expression falling neutral whilst watching her, ”so it’s safe to assume distance begets distance. I’ve been nothing but forthcoming about myself, but I’ve always wondered if you’d ever say anything unprompted~.”

MARISOL SIMONE [break]
mission: hot summer nights

☉