cognitivism | ➵IC Contact

[All in all, Belladonna's worst memories and fears generally have to do with being an outcast and the baggage that comes along with it, so she's been able to get by mostly without trouble. Some of the others stuck in the horrors along with her haven't been so lucky.

Because of this, the blonde has been doing her best to seek out those in need. Anyone who seems to be struggling with a particularly difficult memory, be it violent or psychologically damaging, will likely find themselves approached. So she runs into the familiar face of Goro Akechi--the two hardly know each other, but he's gotten her out of a bad situation before, and she of course doesn't hesitate to return the favor.]

Are you hurt?

[He thought he could escape his own horrors, but he was wrong.

He stands in front of a tub, blood dripping off his hand as he stares at the lifeless body of his mother. It was such a simple thing, trying to make dinner, trying to provide for himself while his mother wallowed in her own misery. Her jeers of how she'd be better off without him, how Shido would be around if it wasn't for him, echoed around him, calling back to the time before foster care.

His heart pounds in his ears, bile rising in the back of his throat, all while he stares at her form half floating in the water. He doesn't know when he cut his hand - maybe it was a result of the Mares - but blood drips down his fingers into the dirt below, pooling into the dry sand. It's a deep cut, not so easily taken care of by household means. He really ought to see a doctor for some stitches.]

What? [Her voice cuts in, and he finally adverts his gaze from the scene before him.] Oh. [He glances down at his hand, brain finally catching up to the stinging pain.] Yes, I suppose I am... [But he doesn't know how.]

[Once she gets close enough to see the vision for herself, Belladonna feels all the hairs on her skin rising. A chill goes through her and she hurries to look away, toward the wound.]

Here, I can help.

[Even her usually-smiling face is tight-lipped. All this trauma, this pain. There's no way she can smile; it would be wrong. And besides, this feels...private. Like she shouldn't be involved at all. But then, he shouldn't need to be reminded of something like this, either. Without really thinking about it, she inserts herself between him and the scene, aiming to block his vision from it as she reaches for his hand. If he lets her, she'll cup it between both of her own, and he'll immediately feel the magical warmth of her touch flow into his skin and begin to stitch the skin back together.]

Thank you.

[He dares to glance past her, dares to look at the scene again but the warmth from her magic pulls him back out. He watches as his skin stitches back together, surprisingly thankful that he didn't have to hunt down Ann to see if she could heal him.]

You saw it, didn't you? [It's more of a fact than a question, but the tone remains in his voice.] I'm sorry.

[He's going to hate the questions that follow, but he is truly sorry she had to see something like that. Especially as it lingers in the background, taunting him.]

[Belladonna nods slightly, though she doesn't say anything as she focuses on the task at hand. At least until he apologizes. At that, she looks up at his face, surprised and then sad.]

You don't have anything to apologize for.

[As soon as the wound is closed she squeezes his hand, hoping to provide him even a small amount of comfort.]

That isn't something anyone should have to see.

[He glances back down to his now healed hand, but doesn't move it. Deep down he was comforted by the action, grateful for her help, but it doesn't cross his features. Anger boils in his veins as he thinks about why this is happening, about witnessing his mother's death once more, about the fact that his stranger has now seen something personal - something he wishes could have stayed buried.]

I suppose we can thank God for this. [He says bitterly.] I wonder what we've done to deserve such a punishment.

[He pauses, taking a deep breath before he asks,] Are you all right? [Which he barely knows her but there's some concern there for someone who just healed him with magic.]

I'm not much of a fan of His.

[She can't imagine it, either. The deity seems to cause so much strife, but none of it with the darkness and grace that she admires. Her thoughts darken slightly, but Belladonna shakes back out of it when he asks his question, and she blinks.]

Me? Oh, yes, I'm just fine. I've just been concerned--so many of us seem to be lost in horrible reminders of our past. I'm doing what I can to help.

I don't think I am either.

[He wasn't a fan of God or Lucifer. This punishment seemed petty and vengeful even compared to others that he's encountered in Hell. Derranged might be a better word for it, considering their tragic pasts were being broadcast for all to stumble upon.]

I see. That's good. [He finds himself saying, finally moving his hand from her as he slowly flexes as if he was expecting the wound to still be there.]

I hope you've been spared for the most part. [He lifts his gaze to meet hers, trying his best to not meet the corpse of his mother - if she was even still there.] I appreciate your help. I... don't even know when I got injured. [Something he's coming to hate about this trip down memory lane.]

[It should be assumed that Futaba has, of course, added one Goro Akechi to her list of people to keep tabs on. Friend, foe...whatever he is, he's on it.

Which means she knows EXACTLY where to leave a ratherhideous cake. She worked hard to make it look terrible, but it probably doesn't taste half bad.

There's also a small card that reads: (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ -Oracle]

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