Conversation · Dolores Dei

Dolores Dei -- the innocence of humanism, internationalism, and the welfare state -- turns around to face you. She has an airship bag in her hand. She seems to be in a hurry.

Okay, don't say you need to 'talk' right away. Melt the ice first -- this way you're already talking.

But you don't even want to talk to her! She would only be cold and mean. Let her go.

Let her go? This is the holy queen of the territories of Mundi and Insulinde! Think of the historic knowledge we could glean! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity -- to win her back!

Win her back? How does that fit in here? And what is the holy suzerain doing here anyway?

"Your skin is holy and soft."

"No, Harry." She shakes her head. "It's just regular skin. I'm not as beautiful as you always thought I was. Let's not get into..."

"Yes. Let's not. I'm sorry I said that."

"It's okay." She puts no effort into making it sound as if it's actually okay.

"You are. None of the others are as beautiful as you."

She does not answer. There's that expression again.

You have to say something.

"All the stars burn in absolute silence. Have you ever realized?"

"The poetry thing is not going to help. It's only going to make things worse. I really have to go... I don't even know how you got here."

I'm sorry. I'm foam. All I can do is foam, it's meaningless.

No. It's stupid. No, no, no. No, I don't want to say those STUPID THINGS!

Silence. A distant wind blows. You can't think of anything pretty to say.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to Mirova. To live there -- in Graad. It's one million kilometres away, Harry. Might as well be another lifetime."

"Something is off."

"I'm sorry. I was heading to the aerodrome, I just don't have time to..." She stops mid sentence, glances to her right. Then looks at her bag.

She means she doesn't have time to tend to your emotions.

"You don't have time to tend to my emotions?"

She sighs and looks over her shoulder.

What are you doing? Stop saying things like that.

Yes, if you scare her off you will never glean all the historic knowledge...

"Go. Good bye." [Leave.]

...is what you want to say. But you don't. Hammers clang in the distance. Children laugh...

I want to go!

Where? There's water all around. She turns her face and it's illuminated by the sign of the video rental... Red and cyan...

I can't help you. I am totally useless. Everything I've said is lies. I want the exact same bad things you want. To stand here, like a pillar of salt, saying...

God damn it, everything was fine already...

The light from the video rental casts shadows on the ground. She turns her face and it's illuminated by it. Red and cyan...

Cinematics KISS

With your feet trembling from the steps you took -- trepid and fearful -- you stand against her; her body close to you, radiating warmth. With your eyes closed you move your lips on her mouth.

Cinematics END KISS

She tried not to look at you -- when she withdrew and you held on to your hand. She tried not to look at your face and see the expression there.

Cinematics END

"See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

"I know you still love me." (Kiss her.)

With your feet trembling from the steps you took -- tepid and fearful -- you stand against her; her body close to you, radiating warmth. With your eyes closed you move your lips on her mouth.

She is not kissing you back.

I feel her breath...

Her chest rising like a pillow, warm exhalations against the side of your mouth -- her tender soul moving through her lungs.

Hidden, distant, kept safe from you.

But I succeeded...

This was not about failure or success. This was always going to be horror. I should not have suggested it, and you should not have listened to me.

Her cheek against mine...

...feels like soft fuzz, a bird covered in down feathers. Brushing against your broken capillaries.

The world's most precious material, reserved for those she lets close enough to feel it. You are stealing a touch. It's not yours to take.

Squeeze her wrist.

Her hand does not return the grip. Her body is rigid. A current of unease courses through it.

Distrust. For you. The curve of her spine, her shoulders hunched. She keeps herself stiff, her centre guarded from your motions, unresponsive to your guidance.

Cold silver against my forehead...

The delicate wreath on her forehead, pressing into your temple. The silver is cold from the spring evening air.

"You're not... kissing me back." (End.)

The moment is ending. She is going to move her face away from yours...

...trying hard not to look at you. When she withdrew and you held on to her hand she tried not to look at your face and see the expression there.