[ Mel is silent. It is, perhaps, a damning thing for her, that she does not immediately rally to defend herself or to offer him something. Carefully, she takes two steps away from Pom, maintaining his gaze. ]
If it were you and I alone, and you lost yourself, I would try to help you. And I would try to stop you. I would do everything in my power to stop you.
[ And it's here that she shows him. He's likely seen it against the monster but Mel realizes that she has never spoken of it aloud, has never outright told Pom or shown him, and she wants to rectify it. She promised to be a friend. Now, that means speaking all of who she is and showing him that hopefully he can trust her judgment.
Gold sprouts along her arm, wisping off of it like steam. She doesn't even need to move her hands now to summon the barrier that suddenly separates them. Her eyes don't even glow. It's taken nearly six months of work, of attuning to that other soul for help, but she can do this much. ]
Everything in my power. And I would try to get through to you until I could do nothing else but to kill you. [ Those last words come with a constriction of her throat, voice wavering even as her gaze does not. She banishes the shield, still fatigued from the day before. ] If you managed to get past me, if you managed to close your jaws around me...
[ The truth. ]
I would think it was deserved. I would think it was right. But I will not go quietly. I will not allow you to hurt anyone else until there is nothing left of me. That is my promise to you.
[Pom's eyes widen as Mel puts on her demonstration. While he saw glimpses of her magic when fighting the rampaging plant, he is awestruck all the same; he has nothing to compare it to but what he's seen in this world from Northly and Gale, and can only trust it's as powerful as their magics. It certainly seems so as he raises a hand to touch the barrier, only to decide otherwise before making contact.
She's right: the desire to help him and the need to stop him are not mutually exclusive. Maybe she wouldn't have been able to stop him in the forest — maybe she wouldn't have tried — but now, she has a promise to keep, as does he. That assurance is enough; it will have to be.
He nods solemnly, swallowing the knot in his throat; his eyes lower themselves less out of shame and more out of deference.]
Please, don’t. I’ve done nothing to deserve your thanks. [ Or some kind of fruitless respect. Her power can do little in comparison to others. Making a shield won’t put anyone in the ground; all it’ll do is buy time. ] You and I made a promise and I intend to keep it, for better or worse.
[ And it will be for the worse. The idea of losing Pom, of needing to kill him because he is no longer himself… She can’t bear the thought. Some of that is the Imprint, clawing up into her thoughts and into her chest and scraping out the innards for good measure. Some of it is simply that she knows he is a good person, that he’s trying. Who else out here is willing to get assurance that they’ll be taken care of? ]
I know you’re concerned, Pom. But hearing you sometimes… You sound practically keen on destroying yourself at the slightest provocation.
[ What does that say about how he views himself and his transformation? If nothing else, it troubles her to hear that about her friend, even if that makes her a hypocrite. ]
[He hesitates, the silence stretching between them; his foot moves a fraction of an inch, his eyes still lodged on the ground between them.]
It'd be deserved. Maybe it'd be right. [He tries to find his own words rather than repeating hers, and is met with the familiar ache of guilt, sharp and lingering.] I ain't worth much in this world or any other on my own, not after all I've done, all I've gotta make up for.
[He squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing at the old wound in his chest; already, his nails are like claws, no longer human, their points cutting through the weave of his shirt.]
I think you have plenty of worth in this world. And your companions know it too. When... When we were in the woods, you asked me if they would forgive you. [ And that, too, still pains her to remember. Not just the agony he'd been in, but the utter despair gripping him. ] I don't think someone deserving to die thinks of the people he will disappoint, the people he cares for, in a time like that.
[ Anyone else would think of their own survival or at least to pull away enough to be free of the pain. Anyone else would be clawing to keep themselves alive. Pom simply...gave up and accepted it was better that way. She can't ever forget it. ]
Wouldn't it be better, then, to keep trying? To stay alive and do what you can for as long as you can?
[ At last, Mel reaches out a hand. She's still far enough away that doing this along won't create contact between them. But she wants him to know she's there. ]
I know it's difficult. I...I have a lot to make up for, too. I want to keep trying, though. And I'd like to keep trying with you, beside you, if you'll let me.
[She speaks on his worth, on the worth others see in him, and for a moment, he desperately wants to believe her - he aches for that worth to be real, sincere in a way his personality often isn't, genuine in a way he isn't sure how to be. Sometimes, he's not sure the person she sees could ever exist - certainly not when he's turning into a monster, losing himself bit by bit along the way.
... but he'd like to try to be that person. He just can't do it alone. He's never been worth anything on his own. Purl gave him value back home, made him a person for the first time; here, it's his Imprints — his friends, he has to remind himself — who keep him that way.
His eyes open, flick toward Mel's hand. While he doesn't yet take it, he does step forward, away from the edge of the roof, from his worst impulses, from running again.]
Yeah. It would be better to keep trying. If not for me, then for them. For you.
[Someone has to watch out for Mel, after all; someone has to be there if it all goes wrong, if she's swallowed up by her Soul and no longer in there.]
It's not disappointment that colors Mel's features but a deep-seated sadness that lodges somewhere in her chest and doesn't loosen. To say anything would paint her as a hypocrite; not that she lives or tries for the sake of others, but to rid herself of the dogged shadow of her mistakes. To be better. To try to find the path she is meant to be in, now that so many doors continue to collapse in on her. But it hurts, it hurts so much, to hear her Imprint say others are more important than him. And she thinks back, again, to that day—
If she'd said something different, would he have given up?
Beneath that, however, is something else. Some small flame of gratitude towards him; some flicker of want, that desperate yearning to be seen. To be cherished for who she is. To be loved. Mel wants so desperately to snuff it out and see it nothing more than cindered ash. But in the face of Pom's reluctance to care for himself, in her own request to remain at his side...can she let that flame die in good conscience? Can she live with herself as a hypocrite if this one thing can keep him alive, keep him close, keep him with her?
(Selfish. Always selfish.) ]
So long as you are aware it goes both ways. At least, it does for me.
[ To keep trying for herself. And if not for herself, then for others. No one else should have to suffer for her mistakes. ]
And I meant what I said. Thank you for coming to me. I know you feel as if you did nothing...but even when I couldn't get up, knowing you were there— I felt safe with you.
[He'll keep trying, and so will she. That familiar feeling of the relationship being transactional is comforting in a distinctly discomfiting way: it lets him know where he stands, and it doesn't have to be anything more than that.
Unfortunately, it is more than that with Mel, and Pom realizes it enough to recognize the tangled mess it's starting to become. Knowing that she felt safe when she shouldn't have, that he has to live to make up for all he's done, that she'll try to help him until her last breath - it's like all the feelings of Purl are there, but without her. Pom isn't sure how he feels about that, aside from unsteady, uncertain, achingly lonely. He misses her, and while he sees shadows of her everywhere, she's never really there. There are glimpses of Purl in other people, manifested in his Imprints, and he has to care for each of them rather than being solely focused on one individual.
Being a person is exhausting, and as usual, he can't do it alone. He finally steps forward enough to take Mel's hand, unable to process his want on his own and knowing that the contact helps. Maybe this Imprint was born of necessity, and it can continue to be as such, albeit a different kind of necessity: both of them are willing to do what must be done, should the worst come to pass - no matter the cost, no matter who can't forgive them otherwise. That's the promise he made. He'd best not break it, no matter how close he just came.]
I'll be there whenever you need me, Mel. Gonna try to be, anyway. Guess I just had a moment of weakness. Of being scared of... hm.
[ She supposes she should be content with that. Rationally, she knows that no one can make real promises to do anything. They can only be there for each other for as long as possible — but to think on that makes her more acutely aware of what limited time they have until their changes take them further and further from who they once were. But to hear it again and again, that Pom feels weak in this space...
Mel's fingers close over his own. ]
You're no weaker than I am. I told you: I'm afraid too.
[ Of what's to come. That one day she might wake up and find she's not solely changed in body but in her mind, her soul. That one day there'll be nothing rational and understanding left of her. To put that weight on Pom's shoulders feels wrong, even as she knows she can ask no one else. Not a single soul on this island should have to kill a rabid beast that once wore the face of an ally.
Especially not him.
With some leverage on his hand, she tries to draw him closer, just so she can reach up and put an arm around him. It's what she did for Momo after she woke up; she wants to offer the same for him, even if it's strange, even if she's not created for softness. ]
I'm right here with you, regardless of what happens. All we can do is continue to try.
[It takes Pom a second or two to return the embrace; he stiffens first, but his arms eventually find their way around her to pull her closer. He's still not fully accustomed to hugs, but at least he's had some practice with them now, even if it is only with a select couple of people. Neither he nor Mel were made for softness, Pom's own edges left jagged by his past; it's through Purl and his Imprints that they are being reshaped into something gentler, capable of uses other than grievous harm. Finding those uses — new purpose for himself with that newfound softness, all while trying not to lose it — is the real trick.]
Yeah. Continue to try, and keep each other human so we can keep trying.
[It sounds like a daunting task, especially as he feels he loses himself a little more each day to his Natural Soul, but at least he's not alone. With one more squeeze, he lets her go, still holding onto her hand as he steps back.]
Get some rest. Never know what this place will throw at us next.
[ It's not something she doesn't expect. He tenses as he would if their positions were reversed. But it's...something she wants to give him, something she would have given him if he had remained with them. It's really just the only way she can thank him properly in way that feels warm, that expresses the care she has.
But soon enough, she does release him with that final squeeze, maintaining the contact of their hands. It almost surprises her that he hasn't let go, either. ]
I will. You take care of yourself too.
[ A lopsided, small smile appears on her mouth. ]
And the next time you wander out here, you can always ask for some coffee. I'm usually awake at all hours.
[ She's aware he's in the area often enough; she can hear him. When he isn't maintaining the marks around the home, she knows he's still around. He doesn't have to be a stranger. ]
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no subject
If it were you and I alone, and you lost yourself, I would try to help you. And I would try to stop you. I would do everything in my power to stop you.
[ And it's here that she shows him. He's likely seen it against the monster but Mel realizes that she has never spoken of it aloud, has never outright told Pom or shown him, and she wants to rectify it. She promised to be a friend. Now, that means speaking all of who she is and showing him that hopefully he can trust her judgment.
Gold sprouts along her arm, wisping off of it like steam. She doesn't even need to move her hands now to summon the barrier that suddenly separates them. Her eyes don't even glow. It's taken nearly six months of work, of attuning to that other soul for help, but she can do this much. ]
Everything in my power. And I would try to get through to you until I could do nothing else but to kill you. [ Those last words come with a constriction of her throat, voice wavering even as her gaze does not. She banishes the shield, still fatigued from the day before. ] If you managed to get past me, if you managed to close your jaws around me...
[ The truth. ]
I would think it was deserved. I would think it was right. But I will not go quietly. I will not allow you to hurt anyone else until there is nothing left of me. That is my promise to you.
no subject
She's right: the desire to help him and the need to stop him are not mutually exclusive. Maybe she wouldn't have been able to stop him in the forest — maybe she wouldn't have tried — but now, she has a promise to keep, as does he. That assurance is enough; it will have to be.
He nods solemnly, swallowing the knot in his throat; his eyes lower themselves less out of shame and more out of deference.]
All right. Thank you, Mel.
no subject
Please, don’t. I’ve done nothing to deserve your thanks. [ Or some kind of fruitless respect. Her power can do little in comparison to others. Making a shield won’t put anyone in the ground; all it’ll do is buy time. ] You and I made a promise and I intend to keep it, for better or worse.
[ And it will be for the worse. The idea of losing Pom, of needing to kill him because he is no longer himself… She can’t bear the thought. Some of that is the Imprint, clawing up into her thoughts and into her chest and scraping out the innards for good measure. Some of it is simply that she knows he is a good person, that he’s trying. Who else out here is willing to get assurance that they’ll be taken care of? ]
I know you’re concerned, Pom. But hearing you sometimes… You sound practically keen on destroying yourself at the slightest provocation.
[ What does that say about how he views himself and his transformation? If nothing else, it troubles her to hear that about her friend, even if that makes her a hypocrite. ]
no subject
It'd be deserved. Maybe it'd be right. [He tries to find his own words rather than repeating hers, and is met with the familiar ache of guilt, sharp and lingering.] I ain't worth much in this world or any other on my own, not after all I've done, all I've gotta make up for.
[He squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing at the old wound in his chest; already, his nails are like claws, no longer human, their points cutting through the weave of his shirt.]
no subject
[ Anyone else would think of their own survival or at least to pull away enough to be free of the pain. Anyone else would be clawing to keep themselves alive. Pom simply...gave up and accepted it was better that way. She can't ever forget it. ]
Wouldn't it be better, then, to keep trying? To stay alive and do what you can for as long as you can?
[ At last, Mel reaches out a hand. She's still far enough away that doing this along won't create contact between them. But she wants him to know she's there. ]
I know it's difficult. I...I have a lot to make up for, too. I want to keep trying, though. And I'd like to keep trying with you, beside you, if you'll let me.
no subject
... but he'd like to try to be that person. He just can't do it alone. He's never been worth anything on his own. Purl gave him value back home, made him a person for the first time; here, it's his Imprints — his friends, he has to remind himself — who keep him that way.
His eyes open, flick toward Mel's hand. While he doesn't yet take it, he does step forward, away from the edge of the roof, from his worst impulses, from running again.]
Yeah. It would be better to keep trying. If not for me, then for them. For you.
[Someone has to watch out for Mel, after all; someone has to be there if it all goes wrong, if she's swallowed up by her Soul and no longer in there.]
no subject
It's not disappointment that colors Mel's features but a deep-seated sadness that lodges somewhere in her chest and doesn't loosen. To say anything would paint her as a hypocrite; not that she lives or tries for the sake of others, but to rid herself of the dogged shadow of her mistakes. To be better. To try to find the path she is meant to be in, now that so many doors continue to collapse in on her. But it hurts, it hurts so much, to hear her Imprint say others are more important than him. And she thinks back, again, to that day—
If she'd said something different, would he have given up?
Beneath that, however, is something else. Some small flame of gratitude towards him; some flicker of want, that desperate yearning to be seen. To be cherished for who she is. To be loved. Mel wants so desperately to snuff it out and see it nothing more than cindered ash. But in the face of Pom's reluctance to care for himself, in her own request to remain at his side...can she let that flame die in good conscience? Can she live with herself as a hypocrite if this one thing can keep him alive, keep him close, keep him with her?
(Selfish. Always selfish.) ]
So long as you are aware it goes both ways. At least, it does for me.
[ To keep trying for herself. And if not for herself, then for others. No one else should have to suffer for her mistakes. ]
And I meant what I said. Thank you for coming to me. I know you feel as if you did nothing...but even when I couldn't get up, knowing you were there— I felt safe with you.
no subject
Unfortunately, it is more than that with Mel, and Pom realizes it enough to recognize the tangled mess it's starting to become. Knowing that she felt safe when she shouldn't have, that he has to live to make up for all he's done, that she'll try to help him until her last breath - it's like all the feelings of Purl are there, but without her. Pom isn't sure how he feels about that, aside from unsteady, uncertain, achingly lonely. He misses her, and while he sees shadows of her everywhere, she's never really there. There are glimpses of Purl in other people, manifested in his Imprints, and he has to care for each of them rather than being solely focused on one individual.
Being a person is exhausting, and as usual, he can't do it alone. He finally steps forward enough to take Mel's hand, unable to process his want on his own and knowing that the contact helps. Maybe this Imprint was born of necessity, and it can continue to be as such, albeit a different kind of necessity: both of them are willing to do what must be done, should the worst come to pass - no matter the cost, no matter who can't forgive them otherwise. That's the promise he made. He'd best not break it, no matter how close he just came.]
I'll be there whenever you need me, Mel. Gonna try to be, anyway. Guess I just had a moment of weakness. Of being scared of... hm.
[Of himself.]
no subject
Mel's fingers close over his own. ]
You're no weaker than I am. I told you: I'm afraid too.
[ Of what's to come. That one day she might wake up and find she's not solely changed in body but in her mind, her soul. That one day there'll be nothing rational and understanding left of her. To put that weight on Pom's shoulders feels wrong, even as she knows she can ask no one else. Not a single soul on this island should have to kill a rabid beast that once wore the face of an ally.
Especially not him.
With some leverage on his hand, she tries to draw him closer, just so she can reach up and put an arm around him. It's what she did for Momo after she woke up; she wants to offer the same for him, even if it's strange, even if she's not created for softness. ]
I'm right here with you, regardless of what happens. All we can do is continue to try.
no subject
Yeah. Continue to try, and keep each other human so we can keep trying.
[It sounds like a daunting task, especially as he feels he loses himself a little more each day to his Natural Soul, but at least he's not alone. With one more squeeze, he lets her go, still holding onto her hand as he steps back.]
Get some rest. Never know what this place will throw at us next.
no subject
But soon enough, she does release him with that final squeeze, maintaining the contact of their hands. It almost surprises her that he hasn't let go, either. ]
I will. You take care of yourself too.
[ A lopsided, small smile appears on her mouth. ]
And the next time you wander out here, you can always ask for some coffee. I'm usually awake at all hours.
[ She's aware he's in the area often enough; she can hear him. When he isn't maintaining the marks around the home, she knows he's still around. He doesn't have to be a stranger. ]