Week 1, Saturday Post-Trial - Sandalphon

[fragileprophet]

[Ion's normally in bed rather early, curfew or otherwise, if for no other reason than his own lack of physical stamina. Tonight, however, he comes in pretty late, face lined with anguish. He deposits his shoes and his staff and his accessories and all but collapses onto his side of the bed. It's odd, coming from him, who always has something nice to say to great someone with, regardless of how he expects them to reciprocate. Silently, he grabs his pillow and presses it against his face, coiling toward his knees.

How hard does one have to wish to escape a cruel reality?]

Comments

[fragileprophet]

It's not that important.

[Read: I feel badly talking about myself so much!]

I just wonder what the case is for him...I wonder if he'd even be forthcoming if I asked. It's not as if any of us have ultimately known each other for that long, after all. But I've been speaking with him so frequently, I think I'd begun to misconstrue our relationship.

[melancoffeea]

[Please.]

You should ask, unless you're content with wondering forever. [He doesn't say this unkindly, and is rather pointing out a fact.] The only way to know for sure is by talking directly. Assuming is . . . dangerous.

[fragileprophet]

Yes, I will.

[He smiles ruefully.]

I only need to worry about getting my hopes up too far. I put a lot of faith into people, as I'm sure you've noticed by now.

[melancoffeea]

[At that, he huffs. It's a small, mirthful sound.]

You were so concerned about losing yourself, but it's been two trials and you're still you.

[fragileprophet]

[There's a pause, and Ion chuckles, too.]

I guess I'm stubborn that way.

[melancoffeea]

In any case, I advise against getting your hopes up too high. If he's been wearing a mask for so long, he's not likely to give you an answer easily.