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Post by Typhoid on Oct 1, 2009 22:45:42 GMT -5
"I don't know how to say what I want to talk about without messing up what I want to say," she said, frustrated. "Or offending someone. Or causing a fight. I'd rather you question me. I know how to answer that." She was talking fast, for her, her frustration showing through.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 1, 2009 22:50:43 GMT -5
::There was only so much control which Pietro had over his unstable mutation, and so his fingers twitched unconsciously; it was a mild reaction in the grand scheme, but he could not stop it, and he would berate himself for the lapse.
She wanted questions? How could she wish him to ask questions at a time like this? He had never considered her to be cruel, but this was insensitive at the very least. If she wanted to end the relationship, she could leave matters unsaid, or she could explain, but she shouldn't expect him to fish for an explanation. Yet, she had been as invested as he had been; he never doubted that about her. He simply always expected her to find someone better; perhaps she had, although he did not want to know. His accent was thicker, as it was in emotional times, and he said,:: "I don't have questions, Rossignol, but I vish you happiness."
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 1, 2009 22:59:02 GMT -5
She looked startled. The last time he'd gained an accent, it was back when Tim had proposed and he'd used the exact same words....Sh*t. "Pietro..." she finally ventured after a minute, figuring she'd pretty much guessed what was going on. "I am not leaving you."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 1, 2009 23:01:36 GMT -5
::Pietro's fingers stopped twitching in his lap with that reassurance. He calmed slightly, as well, but he was more bewildered than before.:: "Then I do not understand."
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 1, 2009 23:04:08 GMT -5
"I'm frustrated," she explained, a little irritated at the instant assumption she was talking about leaving. "Because I don't know how to discuss our relationship with you without being stonewalled, or feeling like I'll offend you. I'd rather you ask questions then me."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 1, 2009 23:09:56 GMT -5
::Pietro dropped his hands to his knees. Unsure of what to say, particularly since not speaking would likely count as "stonewalling" her rather than being careful with speech, he said what first came to mind,:: "What would you have me say?"
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 1, 2009 23:16:47 GMT -5
It was a start, sort of, although she wasn't going to play dictator, but it appeared that she was going to have to ask the questions anyways. Turning herself where she sat so that she faced him, she held out both hands for his in an open gesture. It didn't feel right to her to be NOT touching him somehow. "I know about you, but I don't know much about your past. I know you don't feel that you're...worth anything, somehow. I don't understand why."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 1, 2009 23:20:15 GMT -5
::Pietro took her hands in his when she offered them, and he scowled, not at the question itself which was fair considering that they had been dating for two years, but at the memories which were evoked as a result. He spent such time with Samson discussing these same matters, his low self-esteem, his depression, his frequent indignation...he sighed,:: "I was taught that, most of my childhood."
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 1, 2009 23:21:36 GMT -5
"By Magneto?" The question was soft.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 1, 2009 23:25:42 GMT -5
::Pietro remembered clearly the constant disappointment, the disinterest which came from him having a physical mutation and from the disability symptoms which came with that mutation. He remembered the arguments and the disparaging comments, about how the only role he could ever play in their brave new mutant society would be that of the pack mule. How he was weak in terms of genetic development, about how he was incapable of conversing like a *normal* person, as though that made him damaged. Then there had been the physical altercations...Magneto had left his mark on his son's psyche, that was certain.:: "Yes."
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 2, 2009 18:43:21 GMT -5
"And you believed him?" She squeezed both his hands; the question wasn't reproachful, it was truly an inquiry. She had believed for a long time what was said about her: murderer, assassin, heartless. For a time, some of it might have even been true. Now the fight for her was to live to be the opposite of what had been said, because she didn't believe it any longer. If he still believed what he had been told, the fight for him would be harder.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 2, 2009 18:55:25 GMT -5
::Pietro did not quite sigh; he hadn't wanted to get "into" this topic, but it was already underway. So much of this could not be explained adequately, Wanda knew because she had seen him through all of it. The others from his "class" knew, because they had seen him through much, though not all, of it.:: "I am a decent man, Rossignol, and I know it. But I see my faults laid out before me."
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 2, 2009 19:03:45 GMT -5
She wasn't going to make him go through a litany of his faults for her sake or anyone else. "And you think I see them too, and fault you for it."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Oct 2, 2009 19:05:43 GMT -5
"Are we still discussing our relationship?" ::Pietro asked. Her question, though not intentional, was a loaded one, and he only wished to discuss that which was pertinent, thus only exposing as much as was needed.::
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Post by Typhoid on Oct 2, 2009 19:14:06 GMT -5
"Yes," she replied, her brow furrowing.
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