[ She is out here, sat over a notebook on the floor, ripping out certain chunks of its contents. There are pieces of torn, crumpled paper here and there, and a bookmark nearby -- some dry blood on it, but a slight streak on it that looks somewhat newer.
She stops when her name is called, though. ]
...Lu Bixing. [ She doesn't even look up. ] Hello.
[ Yeah, fuck mommy issues! She'd like to personally kill Freud in Hell. ]
...Maybe. I know the negative connotations of the Oedipus Complex were a bastardised interpretation that Freud created, but nonetheless. It's disgusting.
Freud created a lot of bastardized interpretations, that's true. [ the noise he makes is agreeing, though, and he prods at a torn up piece absently, picking it up in both hands to tear it up a little further with her. this feels cathartic? it's very cathartic. ] But I agree - it's pretty foul.
[ it reminds him of someone... unfortunately... eugh ]
[ She's just smiling watching him join in on the casual destruction. POOR LAVI HE GAVE HER THESE. ]
It's pretty condemnable. I couldn't imagine it, could you? Though I found the ending somewhat reprehensible as well, even without the additional later representations.
"No man should be considered fortunate until he is dead." Perhaps.
[ whatever it's fine books are meant to be loved or destroyed. probably. ]
I couldn't, either. [ he's also
never met his mother. but he still couldn't imagine it anyway, and it's fine. the last bit makes him huff a little laugh, a bit wryer than usual, as he takes another page and tears it into smaller bits. this is indeed weirdly cathartic. ]
Mm. And here we are, right? I guess no philosopher could've really known. Then again, I don't think anyone would've expected [ a beat. ] ...this.
[ She's disdainful. But she watches Lu Bixing join in on ripping things like a hawk, silent. Words filter through the buzz until she understands them again. ]
I wasn't thinking about us. Really. I was thinking about some other people whose fault it could have been, all the people I could've not lost if it weren't for that one beat of a butterfly's wings, for the want of a single nail.
Hum... well. I wonder. It's such a convoluted tale, and one I'd sooner rip into pieces than recite for the millionth time in my mind. But I suppose I could give you an idea.
A cowardly man who couldn't protect anyone, even though he claimed that to be his wish. Not his lover, nor his child. Someone who was a killer and yet, sought a peaceful life, knowing it was an impossibility. Someone who ran away and started his own quiet life, a coffee shop in a quiet street, while the child was left to grow up in a cold and cruel world that didn't want her, not one bit.
The idea of such a man disgusts me, when those who see the world for what it is and face it head on suffer and die. See their corpses desecrated as trophies. Have no choice but to kill their hearts and die along with them.
[ we dont have time to unpack all that.gif aka i left this open in a tab and forgot about it like an idiot
anyway
well this is clearly a very personal story. it's funny - he's learned quite a bit about eto's family, so far? and clearly one part of it was better than the other. he digests what she's saying, thoughtfully, tearing the paper into tiny pieces with his fingers. for not the first time, he thinks, quietly, how grateful he has been to have had monoeye hawk. ]
He does sound like a coward. [ lu bixing has never run away from anything in his life, so, yeah? fuck this guy? ] Less the beat of a butterfly wing than someone irresponsible and afraid.
oof. yeah. that smile sucks, also - it makes his brows pinch together, worried and genuinely concerned. ]
It is. [ doesn't he know it. he plucks up another page, and quotes, just a tinge of sardonic in the repetition; ] 'No man should be considered fortunate until he's dead', huh?
[ but then gives the page a good, loud rip to tear it in half. ca!thar!sis! ]
[ We can take the bitch away from the canon but we cannot take the canon away from the bitch,
But anyway, she slightly frowns as if she finds the sound of ripping pages unpleasant now that it's not the only sound she has in here, but she doesn't disparage LBX for it, of course. ]
Perhaps there's some truth to it, really.
Life itself is unfair, ergo, life itself is suffering. In the eyes of many, prolonging life is to prolong despair. I think on occasion about those who died, literally or metaphorically ages ago, but continued to live on.
They've already gone ahead, though I asked -- and they were not here.
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wk1, monday;
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that's a lot of loud sounds!!! lu bixing comes hurrying over at it!! ] - Eto?
[ my meow meow!!! ]
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She stops when her name is called, though. ]
...Lu Bixing. [ She doesn't even look up. ] Hello.
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he comes over to join her, and after a moment... sits down beside her, though not close enough to get all up in her grill. ]
Writer's block? [ it's very softly joking, the concern is obvious on his face, but he has a little smile for her anyway. ]
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[ In fact, it's not even print, nor is it her handwriting. ]
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What is it?
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Lavi gifted me it as a set of three, along with Oedipus at Colonius and Antigone.
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he makes a thoughtful noise. ]
Oh, classics, huh? [ greek. ancient ANCIENT earth. ] Having strong feelings about them?
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...Maybe. I know the negative connotations of the Oedipus Complex were a bastardised interpretation that Freud created, but nonetheless. It's disgusting.
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Freud created a lot of bastardized interpretations, that's true. [ the noise he makes is agreeing, though, and he prods at a torn up piece absently, picking it up in both hands to tear it up a little further with her. this feels cathartic? it's very cathartic. ] But I agree - it's pretty foul.
[ it reminds him of someone... unfortunately... eugh ]
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It's pretty condemnable. I couldn't imagine it, could you? Though I found the ending somewhat reprehensible as well, even without the additional later representations.
"No man should be considered fortunate until he is dead." Perhaps.
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I couldn't, either. [ he's also
never met his mother. but he still couldn't imagine it anyway, and it's fine. the last bit makes him huff a little laugh, a bit wryer than usual, as he takes another page and tears it into smaller bits. this is indeed weirdly cathartic. ]
Mm. And here we are, right? I guess no philosopher could've really known. Then again, I don't think anyone would've expected [ a beat. ] ...this.
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I wasn't thinking about us. Really. I was thinking about some other people whose fault it could have been, all the people I could've not lost if it weren't for that one beat of a butterfly's wings, for the want of a single nail.
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...What happened? If you don't mind my asking.
[ come therapize ]
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Hum... well. I wonder. It's such a convoluted tale, and one I'd sooner rip into pieces than recite for the millionth time in my mind. But I suppose I could give you an idea.
A cowardly man who couldn't protect anyone, even though he claimed that to be his wish. Not his lover, nor his child. Someone who was a killer and yet, sought a peaceful life, knowing it was an impossibility. Someone who ran away and started his own quiet life, a coffee shop in a quiet street, while the child was left to grow up in a cold and cruel world that didn't want her, not one bit.
The idea of such a man disgusts me, when those who see the world for what it is and face it head on suffer and die. See their corpses desecrated as trophies. Have no choice but to kill their hearts and die along with them.
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anyway
well this is clearly a very personal story. it's funny - he's learned quite a bit about eto's family, so far? and clearly one part of it was better than the other. he digests what she's saying, thoughtfully, tearing the paper into tiny pieces with his fingers. for not the first time, he thinks, quietly, how grateful he has been to have had monoeye hawk. ]
He does sound like a coward. [ lu bixing has never run away from anything in his life, so, yeah? fuck this guy? ] Less the beat of a butterfly wing than someone irresponsible and afraid.
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She just smiles thinly at Lu Bixing, but there's no warmth to be had in it. Even politicians have more sincerity. ]
In consequence, it's the same. But it is what it is.
Life itself is unfair.
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oof. yeah. that smile sucks, also - it makes his brows pinch together, worried and genuinely concerned. ]
It is. [ doesn't he know it. he plucks up another page, and quotes, just a tinge of sardonic in the repetition; ] 'No man should be considered fortunate until he's dead', huh?
[ but then gives the page a good, loud rip to tear it in half. ca!thar!sis! ]
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But anyway, she slightly frowns as if she finds the sound of ripping pages unpleasant now that it's not the only sound she has in here, but she doesn't disparage LBX for it, of course. ]
Perhaps there's some truth to it, really.
Life itself is unfair, ergo, life itself is suffering. In the eyes of many, prolonging life is to prolong despair. I think on occasion about those who died, literally or metaphorically ages ago, but continued to live on.
They've already gone ahead, though I asked -- and they were not here.