"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Zetsumodernista
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escaping the real world to face reality
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
So, what gives?

There was plenty of stuff that Asuka shouldn't have a problem talking about. Tumblr, yup. Art, yup. Not the boyfriend bit, but she had her pick of material to choose from. So talk about that, right?

But fuck, it was gonna go to small talk so quickly. Not that Asuka was anti-small talk. That was baggage from her snobbish pretentious days, back when she'd been young and, um, not naive no definitely not naive because she was a cynical asshole except maybe kinda? She was naive about what it meant to be a cynical asshole. That was it. But anyways, Asuka was most definitely not anti-small talk, because that would mean that she was better than all those people who did small talk. She wasn't special. But, well, this stuff was. Right? Asking banal questions about what kind of art you drew, who follows you, who's your biggest influence...well, that felt kind of like she was defiling something, didn't it? Murdering. Kill your darlings and whatnot.

Well, she'd brought up escape. There was some good material there. Stand up, get over to the doorway. Give a small and sad and mysterious smile, and say that you hope there's an escape, you really do, but it's not for her. Her future was here. Her life's work was here. She was peaceful and zen and she'd come to terms with her death. And sure, maybe, in all the years to come she'd have a chance to do something as meaningful as this, but, well, reasons. Asuka wasn't sure. Could work it out later. But she was going to say something along those lines, because it'd be the meaningful thing to say. She could already see the scene in her mind's eye, and, man, it was beautiful and perfect and pure. She was-- she was gonna make it happen. She was

Stop. Stop forcing your scenario. It doesn't work. Just let it flow naturally, just do whatever comes natural, just

But she couldn't help it, was the thing. Like, define natural. Well, it wasn't like she'd never acted naturally ever, right? See, there was that one time, right, she'd said her mind, she'd told it like it was, and she'd done it spontaneously. Really really spontaneously, and oh fucking shit she was shitting herself because why was this so fucking hard why did she have to try so hard for this shit. Yeah, real natural. Asuka never did anything naturally because when she was being natural she wasn't doing anything. She was a ghost. A ninja. And ghosts and ninjas are cool and badass and shit. So, well, fuck shaking that up, right? Because, y'see, I know it might be kinda hard to understand cuz Asuka's shit at explaining this and okay yeah she's also a presumptuous little snowflake and there's no way anyone understands her and shit, most definitely not, but anyways when she was really in the moment, really really in the moment, her eyes kinda glazed over and her brain wandered off and then she'd trip over a rock or walk into a wall or something. Anyways, she wouldn't be talking. She wouldn't be listening. Fuck that. That wasn't an option.

Fuck it. Change of scenery, right? Usually the stuff around her didn't include people who'd be dying in the next couple of days. Well. Person. Unarmed and shit, so...yeah.

"I think most people are, like, afraid of being boring? Just cuz your life story can't be made into a book or a memoir or whatever. I mean, I'm plenty boring, I never accomplish anything notable, anything worth remembering..."

A light laugh here.

"But I wouldn't remember any of that anyways. It's all the pointless, silly tidbits that I remember, y'know? So it's all okay."

Just fine. Everything was just fine. Well, except for the boyfriend bit. That was, well. It was okay actually. No shits given here.

"So tell about your boyfriend."

Okay, a few shits given. Or something. But it was the nice kind of shit, the benevolent kind. Not the shitty kind.

"And tell me about your bad shit. And your good shit, tell me about your good shit. And, well..."

Yeah, that felt forced and scripted too. Because she'd already fantasized about how this little scenario was gonna go, and it would never be more meaningful than it was the first time she imagined it, even if it was actually real this time. And then she'd never be able to dream about how great it'd be to actually do it, because, well, she'd gone and done it and the magic was all gone, even if-- especially if-- it all went according to plan. She was going in expecting to be disappointed. Not really sure why she was bothering, really.

But if it worked, if it worked for Penelope and meant something to her, well.

Asuka would be okay with that. That would work for her too. Not exactly, but it'll do.
dear god dear god tinkle tinkle hoy

G056: Asuka Takahara: The one who can out-pretentious them all.
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