[ in her books, privacy came with silence and little fanfare. it came with locked doors and an abundance of quiet thoughts, the stillness of solitude a backdrop to... yourself. she had expected it— welcomed it, even, a thirst for complete and utter independence that wouldn't be qunched until she was capable of living on her own, with her own two feet firmly planted to keep her stable.
but this isn't solitude and silence and it isn't peace, either. it doesn't feel like independence, either. she imagines a beast on her back at all times, a burden elizabeth can't place or name. if she does, she worries she might become complicit with it. ]
Hey.
[ phones are so beyond her; to a young woman who solves the most minute problems by ripping open time and space to anywhere she wanted, anywhen she wanted, she'd rather find herself face to face with someone. still, when elizabeth calls him through a tear, it's the dead of night. the city doesn't sleep and it never will, something she had thought an exaggeration when she lived locked up like an animal, like something to be prodded and experimented on. it's true, though: there are lights and noises all night long. always somewhere to go, a place to be, someone to meet. the excitement wore her thin two days in. maybe it was the way neons blurred like the line of sight on sniper rifles, candy apple red warning signs plan as day to her eye.
she could have called, could have just sent him on a message on a beeper or, you know, whatever it is that he had called it. but there's an inherent need to know that she isn't sinking into herself and into memories, to see someone and something more real than herself in the moment. she doesn't enter his space, only coming to exist as if on the other side of a window or mirror. her kitchen is immaculate, glistening clean to the point one might wonder if someone lives there at all. ]
Is this a bad time?
[ there's a gentle quiet to her voice, as if she's shy or afraid. elizabeth fumbles with thimble-capped pinkie for a moment, twisting it and looking away. it may very well be a bad time— she has never known how to experience other people's schedules. the luxury has only been presented to her now, and while she has him to think for that, she knows that it's a luxury she can lose. the timidness in elizabeth's voice subsides briefly, replaced with a more thoughtful tone after she sighs. ]
Have you ever seen The Little Mermaid? [ silly question. she's a silly girl, she decides, quickly, and wonders what he thinks of a girl who exists outside time and space and reality and humanity whose only companionship was books and movies and music cultivated by the people kind enough to give her something to do in her room from time to time. ] You know, how she runs away from her father and joins the humans? I—I mean, her motive was rather... shallow, but.
[ embarrassing! she picks up the pieces of her dignity, fingers threading through her ponytail. ] It couldn't have just been that easy... Right? I know it's a fairy tale, but, even those are usually so much more morbid. And yet she just... joins society, doesn't she? So.
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croftmanor2020-08-03 01:00 am
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but this isn't solitude and silence and it isn't peace, either. it doesn't feel like independence, either. she imagines a beast on her back at all times, a burden elizabeth can't place or name. if she does, she worries she might become complicit with it. ]
Hey.
[ phones are so beyond her; to a young woman who solves the most minute problems by ripping open time and space to anywhere she wanted, anywhen she wanted, she'd rather find herself face to face with someone. still, when elizabeth calls him through a tear, it's the dead of night. the city doesn't sleep and it never will, something she had thought an exaggeration when she lived locked up like an animal, like something to be prodded and experimented on. it's true, though: there are lights and noises all night long. always somewhere to go, a place to be, someone to meet. the excitement wore her thin two days in. maybe it was the way neons blurred like the line of sight on sniper rifles, candy apple red warning signs plan as day to her eye.
she could have called, could have just sent him on a message on a beeper or, you know, whatever it is that he had called it. but there's an inherent need to know that she isn't sinking into herself and into memories, to see someone and something more real than herself in the moment. she doesn't enter his space, only coming to exist as if on the other side of a window or mirror. her kitchen is immaculate, glistening clean to the point one might wonder if someone lives there at all. ]
Is this a bad time?
[ there's a gentle quiet to her voice, as if she's shy or afraid. elizabeth fumbles with thimble-capped pinkie for a moment, twisting it and looking away. it may very well be a bad time— she has never known how to experience other people's schedules. the luxury has only been presented to her now, and while she has him to think for that, she knows that it's a luxury she can lose. the timidness in elizabeth's voice subsides briefly, replaced with a more thoughtful tone after she sighs. ]
Have you ever seen The Little Mermaid? [ silly question. she's a silly girl, she decides, quickly, and wonders what he thinks of a girl who exists outside time and space and reality and humanity whose only companionship was books and movies and music cultivated by the people kind enough to give her something to do in her room from time to time. ] You know, how she runs away from her father and joins the humans? I—I mean, her motive was rather... shallow, but.
[ embarrassing! she picks up the pieces of her dignity, fingers threading through her ponytail. ] It couldn't have just been that easy... Right? I know it's a fairy tale, but, even those are usually so much more morbid. And yet she just... joins society, doesn't she? So.
[ what's the secret? ]
Do you think it was easy for her?