John is looking for Arthur and it just so happens he comes to the wardrobe during one of the very few times when he is out. He almost goes right then and there but-
He might as well ask.
"Hey. Willa. Do you know where Arthur is?"
He hates that he sounds off. He used to be better at at least hiding his emotions. But he's been sharing with people left and right, so much open time- it doesn't sound okay, it sounds blank. Like black marker over the emotion so it can't be read: obvious.
Willa is again building a sock tower, only half paying attention to it while she reads an open book on the counter. It's on magic, she only knows half of the goddamn words, but she's trying man.
She looks up and smiles immediately when John comes in--and frowns just as immediately when he speaks.
"...Man, you're worse at lying than a--" She manages to stop herself from repeating something she's heard her dad say in moments of frustration (priest in a whorehouse). "-aaaArthur."
Dorian was the last one to confront him and that wound had long since healed; they'd come to an understanding, a friendship even, and that was so long ago.
He'd been honest with Strange and he and Arthur had only grown closer since then. He knows Arthur wants him there. He knows that even if Arthur is angry, even when he hates him, it's not because those feelings are strongest all the time. They just are.
Willa gives him a look of deepest teenage impatience. "I know. I saw your post. I remember how it works. But you're upset and you won't tell me why. You're in the blue zone, right, it's like... sad, lonely, discouraged?"
"--Right, uh, there's this thing called the social emotional chart, that I learned in school." In detention. But details. "There's four zones--blue, green, yellow, red. The blue zone is like... tired, sad, sick, things that make you feel low. Like you have no energy, I guess."
She pulls herself up onto the nearest folding table to let her feet dangle. "The green zone is steady, willing to learn, in a good headspace, right. Yellow is things like worry, anxiety, confusion, stuff that riles you up a little. The red zone is where you completely lose it, basically. And the point of learning the chart is to help figure out what to do in each zone."
"I think it would be kind of hard to be all of them. If you're blue, yellow, and red, it'd be kind of hard to be green." She frowns, brow furrowed. "John, let me give you a hug."
He floats down to where she's sitting and it's clear that he's still wary about it. But after a moment, he'll make his way to where she can reach out and take the mask.
"...What does it feel like to have your mask hugged, anyway? Do you feel it like you feel things when you have a body in the breaches?" There's a half-second of nervousness, and Willa takes the mask and pulls it into a tight hug.
And she'll feel it, as he slips in, as he takes her sense of taste and one of her arms suddenly seems to be numb, the one laying over the one holding him to her chest. More importantly, there's the presence sliding into her consciousness, warm and fond and absolutely a churning something that he won't quite let her feel carefully.
[ Yes, I can feel the hug. It's different from when I have a body. Arthur sometimes puts his hand over my mask when we're spending time together. ]
That makes her smile. She resettles her one hand on the mask, trying and failing to flex the fingers of her other hand. It's weird. She knows she should feel it moving, almost does in a ghostly way just because she expects it. But there's nothing.
That warmth, the fondness, gets a reactive warmth and a feeling that Willa doesn't really have a word for. Something that feels bigger than safe, more absolute than cozy. The kind of place her heart goes when she's on the couch watching stupid movies with her dad, or they're sharing a hug, or making a mess cooking dinner. Trust turned outward for him to feel.
Also, she can no longer taste her toothpaste.
"..Really glad I brushed my teeth after breakfast."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
after meeting Strange
He might as well ask.
"Hey. Willa. Do you know where Arthur is?"
He hates that he sounds off. He used to be better at at least hiding his emotions. But he's been sharing with people left and right, so much open time- it doesn't sound okay, it sounds blank. Like black marker over the emotion so it can't be read: obvious.
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She looks up and smiles immediately when John comes in--and frowns just as immediately when he speaks.
"What's wrong?"
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The lies are not getting better.
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"Arthur is a very good liar. ...when he has a moment to prepare, anyway."
Beat.
"Then you haven't seen him?"
omg I never got a notif im so mad
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A pause.
"The 'A' thing."
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Willa crosses her arms stubbornly. "Don't make me stand in the doorway until you give."
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"Nothing's wrong." A beat. "Someone was an asshole. It happens."
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Dorian was the last one to confront him and that wound had long since healed; they'd come to an understanding, a friendship even, and that was so long ago.
He'd been honest with Strange and he and Arthur had only grown closer since then. He knows Arthur wants him there. He knows that even if Arthur is angry, even when he hates him, it's not because those feelings are strongest all the time. They just are.
"I just..."
He wants to be held by someone.
"I'd just like to find Arthur."
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"Touching my mask will make me possess parts of you. It's... not something you want to do accidentally."
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"Blue zone?"
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She pulls herself up onto the nearest folding table to let her feet dangle. "The green zone is steady, willing to learn, in a good headspace, right. Yellow is things like worry, anxiety, confusion, stuff that riles you up a little. The red zone is where you completely lose it, basically. And the point of learning the chart is to help figure out what to do in each zone."
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"Only if you sit first. If I get one of your legs, I don't want you to fall."
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"Deal."
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[ Yes, I can feel the hug. It's different from when I have a body. Arthur sometimes puts his hand over my mask when we're spending time together. ]
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That warmth, the fondness, gets a reactive warmth and a feeling that Willa doesn't really have a word for. Something that feels bigger than safe, more absolute than cozy. The kind of place her heart goes when she's on the couch watching stupid movies with her dad, or they're sharing a hug, or making a mess cooking dinner. Trust turned outward for him to feel.
Also, she can no longer taste her toothpaste.
"..Really glad I brushed my teeth after breakfast."
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But I suppose you might have been self-conscious. Sure.]
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