logs | —i play the heroine, i play to their sympathies.

[it happens in slow motion—the apple, and then the person, close behind, falling like a newly-felled tree in the woods. felix's hands drop everything, cutlery and containers clattering noisily on the counter, spoon skittering off and on to the floor—and dives forward, both hands extended--

--successfully catching her, just before disaster. he rolls her gently, so she's not facing the floor anymore, and cradles her in his arms, checking her over for condition and injury.

the apple rolls under the counter, and stops.

gently, painfully gently, he lowers her to the ground, so she's at least flat and supported.]

You're not okay at all.

[he doesn't look panicked—more surprised than anything. he glances at the doorway, clearly contemplating the group eating in another room.]

I'll get someone.

[ Felix is thinking ahead, his gaze is elsewhere, and so he misses the moment that Rudbeckia's expression goes from the blank shock of a stunned rabbit to a deep, dawning horror. her slim hand grips his forearm with clawing desperation; when his focus returns to her, the look in her eyes is something he will recognise from experience, though perhaps he never would have expected to see it in a situation like this. it is the look of someone genuinely afraid for her life. ]

I'm sorry.

[ although it isn't the first time Ruby has apologised to him, this isn't simply demure or skittish. it barely seems voluntary, the way she gasps the words.

he's calm. he isn't angry with her, not yet. but violence is always sudden. the moment someone decides that she isn't telling the truth, or their patience with her runs out—Felix is the one staring down at her, but all she remembers is her father's kind expression going cold. the hand that had been stroking her hair, seizing a fistful of it to drag her from her bed. she already crossed a line the other week when she needed Kim Dokja's assistance with a curse; what if he really didn't believe her back then? it's only going to make things worse if he checks on her now and finds nothing wrong, no "symptoms" to back up her supposed illness. will Yoo Joonghyuk be the one to throw her out?

she can't let that happen. even if she has to beg, even if she clings to Felix until he raises his hand against her— ]

Don't tell anyone. [ there's no meek simpering. her sincerity is grave, a sharp-edged terror she is clutching with her bare hands. ] I just got dizzy and I fell, that's all. I'm sorry. I'm not sick, I swear.

You're in pain, I can tell that much. I'm not an idiot.

[but he doesn't move away from her, arms still supporting her. something is terribly wrong, but she doesn't want anyone to know. by all rights, he should just call out, go against her wishes for her own good—but the terror in her voice, the way she grasps at him like he's the only thing holding her back from an unknowable horror, stays him completely.

for a moment, he's silent, just staring at her, expression nearly inscrutable with how stock standard felix it is—but after a moment, lets out a low, slow exhale of breath. it's almost like he's trying to calm his own emotions, for some reason.]

What do you want to do, then?

[ to her ear, Felix's long exhale sounds exasperated; Iske always did the same, when she was in this state. annoyed by the burden of her existence even as he continues to suffer it for some strange reason. but he isn't going anywhere. Ruby mimics him, taking several deep, careful breaths of her own, whether to calm herself or cope with the pain lancing through her and filling her vision with black spots. ]

I-I'll just go and lie down. [ that's all she wanted to do in the first place. doesn't he understand how it would look if he went and interrupted everyone? spoilt Rudbeckia just wants to be the centre of attention so badly she can't even let them eat dinner in peace. ] I'm sure I'll be fine after I rest, so I don't want to bother anyone...

[ all she has to do is make it to tomorrow, and then she can pretend that it has passed.

except that as she tries to sit up, using Felix's arm to steady herself, and her head tilts forward—a drop of blood lands on her skirt and soaks into the fabric. she raises her other hand to her face, where a trail of blood is leaking from her nose: not just a drip, but a steady stream. ]

... Ah.

[ she doesn't sound surprised. Well, this is the third time. Why does it seem like more blood than usual, though... ]

[well

that is alarming. his eyes widen briefly—but he catches himself, and squeezes them shut, exhaling a burst of frustration at himself. she doesn't want anyone to know, but he's firing off blips of mental reactions that certain people within the next room are certain to pick up on if it keeps up. he's not having that conversation yet—and whatever her reasons for desperately, horrifically not wanting anyone else to see were her own. they just had to get out of here.

one-handedly, he whips a kitchen towel off the counter, and presses it to rudbeckia's face. something for the blood, at least.]

Hold on to that.

[and then, without further ado, he tucks his arm back under her and

picks her up, princess-style

and starts walking towards, and then down, the stairs to the basement.]

No one will bother you down here.

[ oh. this is familiar, too. it seems like it's been a while since she was last in the position of an unruly kitten picked up by a beast. ]

W-Wait—be careful, I don't want to get blood on you!

[ being light even for her small figure, she's not difficult at all to carry, though she doesn't make it easier. rather than hold onto Felix or lean against him, she cringes away, both hands clutching the tea towel to her face. nothing about her demeanour suggests this is fearful; she really just doesn't want to ruin his clothes.

actually, what the hell is he doing? maybe she's still in the historical fantasy genre after all. does that make Felix the protagonist? he has the looks for it, certainly, it's just kind of unoriginal to have the role filled by yet another ill-tempered, cold-blooded bastard... oh, god, she thinks she might be delirious. it must be her mind trying not to acknowledge that he's taking her into the basement alone—better by far than forcing her to face anyone else in this state, but that doesn't make it any less frightening. ]

I don't care about that--you're unbalancing me.

[he's still on a step when he pulls her close—to hell with the blood, he doesn't want to trip down the stairs because she won't lean in. once he's confident she's not going to squirm away, he resumes, making his way towards one of the rooms in the basement—the one with a light on, and the door already partly open.

nudging it the rest of the way with a foot, he makes the final strides across the room, and carefully deposits her on his bed, sighing as he does. there's a streak of blood down his front for his troubles.]

There.

[and then he turns to leave again?]

Just stay there. I'll be back in a minute.

[and off he goes.

the room itself, if she looks around at it, is remarkably plain—there's the bed, a table and a chair, a dresser, and that's it. on top of the dresser is a few books, but the spines are turned away, so it's impossible to tell what they're about. the only other personal touch, if it could be called that, is a soft blue blanket on the bed—but it's as likely that it was all the store had as felix choosing it himself.

a few minutes pass, and felix re-emerges—with two plates of food. he puts them both on the table, and reveals that underneath them, he was holding a damp facecloth.

he holds it out to rudbeckia.]

Here.

[ Ruby can't help the dark places her mind goes to. maybe it's the Shadow or maybe it's simply the tangled vines and brambles of her own trauma, but left alone, she hears the voice of her brother in the echo of Felix's words: Stay put. I'll be back to deal with you later. even if he said that he didn't care about the blood, that's no guarantee. she ruined his shirt, he'll be angry for certain, and he already knows that she doesn't want anyone to know that she's sick. if he decides to punish her—

her gaze is already downcast when Felix returns; she squeezes her eyes shut at the sound of his footsteps approaching, braced for whatever is to come. it's the sound of plates being placed down that causes her crack open an eye, and then her whole expression softens with shock. ]

Oh. [ she hesitates to take the cloth from him, like a stray wary of coming too close. but if she waits too long, he'll get impatient, so: ] Thank you...

[ the first thing she does is wipe her hands, worried about leaving marks on anything she touches, before she starts to clean up her face. she doesn't speak again until she's finished. when she finally does, it's in a murmur, her head hanging forward and the dry tea towel pressed to her nose. ]

I'm really sorry, Don Fraldarius. I showed you such an embarrassing sight, and I ended up causing more trouble for you. I-I'll make up for it, if you just tell me what to do...

[he exhales another sigh, a slightly aggrieved sound.]

To start with, it's Felix. Just Felix. I don't know what got you on to my last name, but I'm sick of hearing it.

[he really should have cut her off with that at the start, but he didn't imagine he'd be seeing her as much as he is, living with her under the same roof. with a huff, he sits in the chair, leaning his elbow on the table, face on his hand.]

There's nothing to make up for. Just tell me what's going on. Will you even let me call a doctor?

[and, after a moment of reflection on the plates in front of him, adds:]

Can you eat?

I can eat.

[ even if she doesn't want to.

ahh, she can feel the little bit of the rope she'd managed to grasp slipping from her hands. he'll hate her after this. the limited help she can offer isn't enough to offset everything else: needy, hopeless, unneeded. an idiot, a nuisance, a useless burden. she may have escaped the novel, but her "story" has always been the same; it was only a matter of time until someone saw her for that much of what she is. she had hoped... she'd really hoped she had a little more time before it reached that point.

it feels worse that he's still trying to be kind. she's sitting here watching the rope fray, one thread at a time, and there isn't anything she can do to stop it from breaking. ]

... A doctor won't be able to help. [ she says it softly, resigned. ] There isn't actually anything wrong with me. And I don't want to be called a liar, so... please don't, Felix.

[with the confirmation, he picks up a plate, and carries it over to her, complete with fork, waits until she takes it, then returns to his seat, picking at his own food. it’s just leftovers, but it’s clear he focused on softer foods.

he pushes it around the plate, mind clearly somewhere else. finally:]

You just collapsed in front of me, and started bleeding. That’s not exactly healthy person behavior.

[he glances at her, face as resting grump as ever, but this time with a shadow of concern flitting over it.]

Sakura is trustworthy. At least let me call her. She wouldn’t call you a liar.

[ plate held in her lap, Ruby similarly picks at her food, pausing every now and then to check with her fingertips that she hasn't started pouring blood again. the food has no taste to her, as usual. she focuses only on the mechanical motions of chewing and swallowing, forces each bite into a body that wants to reject the intrusion.

in all honesty, she's not sure why Felix is bothering. back then, Iske couldn't have had her die because it would have caused political strife, but there isn't any such motive here. Felix's responsibility to her ended when he stopped her skull from being cracked open on the floor. does he just want to push her off onto someone else, so that she won't be a bother to him anymore? in that case, all he wants is to be assured she won't cause trouble again. but he's stubborn. ]

A few years ago, Father called doctors for me. None of them could find anything.

[ that's all she can bring herself to say. as ever, she gags on explanations. ]

I know the Dottoressa Sakura is a good doctor, and she's kind to her patients, but... [ she trails off, and takes another bite just so she can spend a moment chewing in silence. ] ... It's okay. Really, I promise. It only happens once a year, and it doesn't last very long.

[ the fact that it seems to be getting worse—more frequent and more severe—is something that shakes her rather badly. she keeps it to herself. ]

[he eats, chews, swallows, huffs an exhale—then points the fork at her, shaking his head.]

You told me yourself—you come from some kind of era like mine. Medical understanding in Sakura's time is more advanced than you probably know. What if someone else knows the answer? What if that doctor was just bad? You should at least try.

[strive. survive. stop hiding, and reach for your own goals, your own meaning. grow strong, strong enough to take on anything, strong enough to never die.

that's what he was doing. that's what everyone should be doing. right?

he resumes pushing things around his plate, not looking at her anymore.]

What are the other symptoms?

It's... [ her own gaze stays down too, and she struggles to swallow, stifled by the awkward tension. You should have just sent me back to my own room, you fool. Why'd you make yourself eat with me... ] I mostly get dizziness and nausea. The pain isn't too bad.

[ that part, she feels most compelled to lie about. nothing good ever comes of honesty regarding how much something hurts. if he can't feel it himself, then why would he ever believe what she says? she's just weak, or attention-seeking, or whining over little inconveniences. even in her first life, she learnt not to complain; her mother only ever called her a hypochondriac, and she'd be treated worse for bringing notice to herself. Felix is a soldier. coming from a pathetic girl like her, he'll think: what could she possibly know of pain? ]

I didn't used to bleed, but... [ the blood-stained cloth beneath her plate is enough to finish that sentence for her. ] Overall, it barely lasts a week. I don't even call for doctors anymore.

[ that sounds better than admitting she's never called for one since that first time. ]

There isn't any need to bother the Dottoressa with this. It will be gone soon enough, so she won't really have time to diagnose it before I get better. And I'd be taking time away from her other patients who need help more than I do.

[he flicks the fork dismissively, clearly rubbed the wrong way by the sentiment.]

That's a stupid way of thinking. If you're in pain and bleeding, you're not taking time away from anyone.

[this weird girl. she had two modes: rely on others too much, or not at all, and always for the wrong things. as helpful as a well-trained dog, or as helpless as a newborn lamb. there was no middle ground with her, and she always seemed to choose the wrong extremes to suit the scenario at hand. offering to sell her possessions to buy a stranger a sword, running away in a tizzy the moment she imagined she was annoying, swearing her idiocy followed by (or following) efficient knowledge, and now turning away medical care and attention when she actually needed it.

it smacked of... something. something familiar, and therefore unsettling. the cyclical pattern, the weird surface subterfuge, the twangs of desperation and demureness at all the wrong times. something was wrong—maybe deeply wrong—with this girl.

sylvain would know better than he would, as long as he didn't get caught up in fact that she was a she. he'd know how to pull these disparate threads together, know the shape of them better.

instead of voice any of these feelings, these reflections, or suspicions, he simply—mentally—sits on them.]

You should just talk to someone if something's wrong.

[there.

he eats another bite of food, chewing to ignore his rumbling feelings of disquiet.]

[ it isn't the first time she's heard that. why, she wonders, do people always assume that someone has never tried? that just because they see her leg caught in a trap, it must mean she hasn't made any efforts to get free. though she can't blame him for not knowing that "talking to someone" always, always ends badly for her. ]

I don't want to be a bother to anyone. [ she laughs gently, and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear with one slender finger: a practiced motion she uses to make herself appear shy and innocent. ] I know that's a little ironic of me to say, when I caused this much trouble for you, but I really do mean it.

[ at this point, she's not eating anymore. she stabs at things on her plate just to look like she might be. ]

Usually, I'm better at dealing with this! It seems like it's just particularly bad this time, for some reason...

Hmmph.

[he falls completely quiet, but the ire is baking off of him. she probably never gave herself time to rest during these bouts of illness, either. probably just pushed on past it all, smiling like nothing was hurting. she was causing him trouble, bothering him for sure, but not in the way she might have imagined. a part of him wished he'd never found her in the kitchen then. but who would have caught her?

fools can catch themselves, whispers a dark part of his brain.

he stuffs his mouth with food, and chews. it's a long moment before he speaks again, and when he does, it's short.]

Just rest.

[it's a stupid thing to say, because it doesn't communicate anything at all. but he's not the right person for this. he's not devoid of emotions, not by a long stretch—but situations like this always leave him tongue-tied for answers. but he can't leave it like that. so, with effort, he adds:]

It's no trouble.

—i play the heroine, i play to their sympathies.

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