1_800_hotline | a cruel romance [night 8]

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a cruel romance [night 8]

[Death never has a meaning, but if we so choose to seek out patterns in a desperate attempt to imbue meaning into the twisted charades and senseless loss of life, we might come to the natural conclusion that love has no place here. That no matter how close a relationship may become, we can never know anyone else as intimately as we know ourselves.

Ultimately, we are all entirely alone, unable to truly understand anything beyond our deeply limited perspectives.

It's pointless even pretending any of us, alive or dead, are people deserving or capable of love.

Well, to hell with that.

We can always put in the effort.

Even when the circumstances get worse, we can always be better.

So let's give it a try.]

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[ Down on one knee, that's an advantage for her. Without sparing a moment, without thinking about it, Kim swings her elbow toward his jaw, putting as much force behind it as she can muster. ]

[It hits, boy does it ever hit. The hardest of all hits she's scored on him. Knocks him right over.]

[He drops like a rock, hard and heavy, the ground stirring wispy clouds of sand around his toppled body. Just... laying there, on his side. One arm splayed out, the other, held closer to his body, covering his mouth.]

[...]

[Pushing his free hand into the dirt, he sits himself up so now Kim can see his face... along with the streams of red trickling down his knuckles- specks of sand stuck to freshly wet blood like glitter to glue. Taking his fingers away from his bloodied lips to see what's leaking onto his palm, he manages to mumble out a question to her.]

...Kim's-... m'blood out...? [He... sounds more mystified, than worried.]

[ The moment he goes down, the fight goes out of her, entirely. That dangerous look in her eyes vanishes, replaced with concern. In an instant, she's on her knees by his side. ]

Careful. Don't try and talk too much. [ She's going to try and support him, get him sitting up. ] I'm sorry. Oh, I... I'm so sorry.

That bad, huh-... [He says, before following orders and staying silent, keeping a hand planted firmly over his mouth.]

[Judging by his behavior and body language, at least, it looks like he's keeping pretty calm about this whole thing. That's good... it means no unexpected movements that would complicate the healing process any more.]

[...could also mean he's too punch drunk to really process what's happening. Which would be decidedly less good.]

[ You know...we've all been a little punch drunk in our time, haven't we? Kimberly berates herself, inwardly. ]

Let's get you to your feet. I bet the convenience store has some ice.

[ A moment's hesitation. ]

I really...didn't mean to go all-out like that. I guess- ...I guess I did have a lot...built up in there.

...s'good. [...is he saying the injury isn't that bad, or, is he telling Kimberly he understands where she's coming from?]

[...well, either way, Satan's not holding it against her. After all, he was the one who brought up the idea of sparring to begin with, and, well. Seems she definitely needed that outlet right now. Not sure if it's... an improvement that she's so worried now, though.]

[The walk from the beach to the convenience store is pretty long, so it's a good thing he can still stand on his own feet. He spends most of it silent, keeping pace with a hand (or two) pressed over his mouth.]

[ There's a ways to the convenience store. And, in that time, it's not like any of the civilians are going to be bothering them.

For a minute or so, she's quiet. Content, it seems, to walk in silence.

But. ]

...When I was a girl...fifteen, at most, I was chosen to be something called a Power Ranger. I was given incredible power to protect the Earth from those who would seek to harm it. It was myself, and my friends.

Our enemy realized, eventually, that the best way to fight a Power Ranger was with a Power Ranger. She sought out a lost power source, and she kidnapped a...kid our age, and she brainwashed him. We fought...time and time again. And when we destroyed the source of that brainwashing, we thought we could ask him to join us, but...

[ Another step. Another word. She looks straight ahead. ]

...I don't know if it was how he grew up, or fear, or some kind of split-second decision that changed all our lives forever. But he ran away...and the witch found him again. This time, he went with her willingly.

His power was immense. He stole ours, one after another...and he enslaved the world. Over the years, he killed two of my team, my friends, and countless other civilians. People I knew, people saw in my every day life. The whole time, I kept trying...to save him. We'd fight, and I wouldn't kill him, because he'd been used just as we had.

[ One step. Then another. Then another. ]

...One day, it became too much. I... Without any backup, I charged his castle. I fought my way through his forces, until I reached the bastard's throne.

[ Her steps falter. ]

He was...too much for me. The witch taught him some of her magic. Including, how to brainwash others. I...

...He called me his Ranger Slayer.

[ In an exhausted voice, she relates all of this. She stares straight ahead. So tired. She's so tired. ]

[Remaining silent while Kimberly talks- he listens intently to what she says, fortunately reentering a headspace where he can understand... Admittedly, there's some context that's lost on him, some aspects of it he doesn't understand.]

[...but there's plenty he does. Witnessing senseless death far too young and feeling guilt for surviving a situation others didn't. Defeating somebody in the past- then, when he comes up again, feeling confident that one person can take him on alone. Believing he hasn't gotten worse, that he's still the same person he was back then. ...being proven wrong- deeply wrong about it. Loved ones suffering because of that misjudgment. Children being put in danger, forced into taking up the responsibility of protecting the world.]

[The blood isn't pouring as much, but the wound hasn't healed.]

[He wanted to stay quiet- but after hearing all she's been carrying with her this time, he just can't. He unknowingly walks ahead of her for a brief moment as her steps become unsteady... and he turns around, to look her in her tired, world-weary eyes. He removes his hand from his lips for a brief instant to say one thing, with a voice wavering with emotion, and an unmovable conviction behind it.]

...you deserve better than this.

[Present tense. Even if what she described happened in the past. There's no use telling her "it shouldn't have been that way" when it's already done. No. She deserves better now. She doesn't deserve to be here. She's not like him. He wants to tell her that.]

[There's so much he wishes he could tell her now, if only he had the ability to.]

[Instead, he holds out his free hand. The one he occasionally placed on top of the other- only a few small traces of dried blood at the bottom of his palm. A silent gesture of support, should she take it.]

Edited 2019-06-29 11:19 (UTC)

[ It's taken a lot of composure to be able to explain what she has. More than she thought she had. But, when he stops... When he says that, something in her breaks. A horribly pained expression passes across her face. ]

What I deserve...? I think a lot of people would take issue with that.

[ But... But, after a moment, blinking back some very shiny tears, she places a shaky hand atop his own. ]

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a cruel romance [night 8]

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[cw: blood from the mouth]

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cw: mind control/brainwashing

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