towerofanimus

Characters: [AU9] Claudia Hortensia & OPEN
Setting: Room 3-03; outside the 100th Floor; Various (Floor 12, Floor 81, others)
Format: Action preferred
Summary: Claudia deals with the aftermath of the event.
Warnings: The first part contains references to suicide; this is likely to come up wherever her regain is mentioned.

[I. Room 3-03]
[The belt in her hands is just a belt; there's nothing outwardly distinctive or notable about it. Seated on the edge of her bed, Claudia runs it through her hands, the leather dark and smooth against her pale fingers. Unthinkingly, she seeks out the grooves left in the material, examining the places where it is worn from use with her touch.]

[...She can't say for sure. She never saw the belt for herself. But in this place, cool leather in her hand and monster written over her bed in blood, she thinks about the moment she heard that Kirei had hanged himself, and she then starts to cry.]

[II. 100th Floor]
[Claudia doesn't actually set foot on the floor itself, lingering outside on the stairs. She has no desire to see what will be there for her when she opens the door, and especially not after—after earlier.]

[So, then, why is she there? She almost wonders that herself. It's ridiculous. She knows nothing about the relative stranger she is looking for, just that she has met him once before on this floor. There's no reason for her to suspect that she'll find him here again, but—what other clue does she have? She needs to find him. She needs to apologize.]

[III. Various]
[The other person— He's stranger to think about, and he killed her rather than the reverse. But, even so, she feels it would be wrong to simply pretend it hadn't happened.]

[Of course, she knows even less about him. She spends some time wandering around the 12th Floor, but she doesn't really expect to see him there. She checks the 81st, too, which is even more ridiculous. She never even met him there, or at least not really. It's so strange to think that she had met someone both as a child and an adult here...]

[In the end, her searching is mostly aimless, directed purely by gut feeling.]

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[She catches the movement in her peripheral vision. Automatically, she looks up again, stepping forward and lifting a hand to stop him. Her palm settling against his chest, she tries to nudge him back so that she can step fully into the hallway, intending to shut the door behind her. She feels close to crying again, having barely managed to stop before she greeted him, but she would rather do that out in the hall than let him into her room now.]

I don't— It's—

[She doesn't know how to answer that. Did something happen? It's certainly nothing so dramatic. Is it even something she needs to bother another person with?]

[He allows himself to be pushed back, and she's stronger than he is. He wobbles slightly, unsteady on his feet, bracing himself with his good leg, though he doesn't go so far as to stumble. He'd had problems with his balance already, and they'd only worsened after he'd lost his arm.

He puts a hand out to rest on her shoulder, not to steady himself so much as to reassure her.]

It's all right. I'm here now. You can talk to me.

Oh! I'm sorry.

[She hadn't thought that would be enough to upset his balance even a little, but in retrospect, she isn't terribly surprised that it was. It's strange, being stronger than anyone... She'll have to be more careful in the future.]

[She hesitates at the hand on her shoulder. What should she do? The idea of leaning forward and resting against him occurs to her, and she doesn't dislike the thought. Instead, she turns away from him to close the door behind herself.]

[When she looks back to him again, she bites her lip. Even though what he offers are just simple words of support, her heart beats faster when she hears them from his mouth. She—should lean on him, shouldn't she? This time, she does move forward, clinging to him as she presses her face against his collar.]

It's just—

[A sob chokes off the rest of her words.]

It's fine. [He's standing steadily now. He's a bit embarrassed to be so unsteady on his feet, but he's much more worried about her than his own condition.] I'm all right.

[When she leans against him and presses close, his chest tightens, his head feels light, and his stomach feels unsettled, but not in a bad way. He likes to be close to her. No, what's bad is how she's feeling, and he's still worried about her, especially as she hasn't said what's wrong. He puts his arms around her and holds her tight. He strokes her hair with his hand.]

It's okay. If you want to cry, then cry. But then you have to tell me what's wrong, so I can help you.

Oh, it's— [She let's out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, titling her head for more contact. He's—being so sweet. She feels bad for worrying him like this.] There's nothing to help, I—

D-do they... Things from home?

[She realizes on some level that her response doesn't actually make any grammatical sense, but hopefully she manages to convey her meaning well enough.]

You're upset. It might help to talk about it, and then, if there's something to do, I'll do it. Even if it's just try to make you feel better.

[Even listening to someone is a form of help, isn't it? He would do anything to help her. He squeezes her, holding her tightly as well as he can considering the state of his arms. And he smiles, though his expression is still worried. He listens to her speak and is able to understand, basically, what she's asking. He nods.]

I think they do. I've heard of that happening, although it's never happened to me.

Did--they give you something? [He asks this cautiously. Whatever it was, it can't be pleasant.]

Oh, you're— You're so sweet. [She laughs again, pulling back enough to smile up at him, even if her eye is still wet. She takes a breath and tries to calm herself. It's just—hard. She feels like she's being condemned for her lack of action, and right now, it's hard not to let her guilt get the better of her.]

I...don't know. It's... It's just a belt, but—my husband—

[She breaks off again. Even if it isn't that belt, she knew well enough the look of the ones Kirei had owned, and she can't imagine what other point there would be to giving it to her, if not to make her think of that.]

[He keeps holding her. He doesn't want to let her go. Not when she's upset like this, not ever. He puts his hand on her head, his fingers twining in her hair.]

Your husband...?

[Kariya considers her broken words. Her husband's belt? How could that be so upsetting, other than the fact that it had belonged to him--

Oh. He frowns. That isn't right. That's just cruel.]

I'm so sorry. It's--it's not real, like everything else here isn't real. I--let me see.

It doesn't matter if it's not real, it— [She cuts off, realizing she'll just work herself up even further if she continues like that, and takes another breath.] I don't even know if it's—the same belt that I'm thinking of, but that doesn't matter. Why else would I be given something like that?

[If they hadn't wanted to evoke that memory...]

Oh! Oh, no, you don't need to see it. It— It's nothing interesting look at, anyway.

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