thisavrou_log | (OPEN) - Beneath the make up and behind the smile I'm just a girl

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(OPEN) - Beneath the make up and behind the smile I'm just a girl

Who: J and everyone else!
When: Backdated from 1st of April to 13th. Before the trials + event log ~~because i can~~
Where: J's makeup studio + bar !
What: Catch all log for this month
Warnings: Some out-dated slurs? Closed thread with Sans contains talk about the past sexual abuse and death. Will update if/when needed!

Make up

At first, way back on the January, J had only eye rolled at the job that the captains had assigned to her. Sure, go ahead and give the nelly a makeup studio, of course she'll know what to do. But it hadn't taken long from her to see the bright sides of the job. Really, having a roomful of beauty products had pretty sweet perks. The equipment they had first given to her hadn't been too great, but thanks to their stops at Eris and Emiri, she has been able to gather and add more products and items to it. Plus, she was rather lucky not to have that many customers, so her working hours were very flexible, making it possible for her to come and go just as she pleased-- which suited her better than well.

However, despite being more interested in playing hooky than keeping the shop open for potential customers, it's not too rare to find J loitering around her workshop. After all, it was perfect place for her to go and hide whenever she needed some privacy (somewhat a rarity nowadays that she has to share her bedroom with three other people). And it was good to at least let the captains think that she's doing her job.

The door's always closed but one can always tell whether she's in or not from the jazz music, more specifically: music by Marilyn Monroe -- her often singing along with it, that keeps playing whenever she's present. If someone were to open the door, they'd find J either laying on the couch while reading different kind of magazines that she's collected from the library, or then fixing her own make up.

BAR

While J loves her little 'beauty salon', and wouldn't want to trade it for anything, there was no denying that she was in her true element when working at the bar. She had been only little over 14 years old when she had gotten her first job at the shady, local pub near her school, where she had used to sneak in secret from the teachers and rest of the school staff. The only downside to this job was that it's not nearly as easy just to ditch the work now that she has a co-worker, who's more than strict when it comes to showing up to shifts.

Oh well. Good thing that she loves this job and while she's not exactly the best bartender around, as it's her first time working on this side of the counter, but at least she has some kind of clue what to do. Although, that still doesn't mean that J takes this job too seriously either. As she can most of time be found poking her MID, playing certain romance game in it, not caring whether it was a busy night or not.

She's also rather lenient about giving alcohol to people who haven't reached the legal drinking age because hey. She started using alcohol at age of 14 and she's not one to deny it from other kids.

WILDCARD!:

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Hah! Not really. I was always more like a daddy's little girl than mom's darling little boy.

[She attempts to laugh but her voice falls flat, coming out as hollow and forced. There had always been this invisible wall between her and mother, as she could never quite see the same as father did. And who knows, maybe that's why things ended up the way they did.]

She shot him and lost her. Police took her away and said that they were taking her to get treatment somewhere faraway.

[For how placid he was before receiving the news, this does come as a surprise and it shows. Humans had an unmatched capacity for cruelty, Sans knew this to be true from experience, but still...

It's something he could rationalize away by the inherent differences between them. Humans hated monsters, or at least found them to be entertaining fodder for murder. No one would miss them, in humanity's eye, especially not when there were none of them left. He could see the root of that kind of violence, even if it made his bones rattle.

This? Killing your own family? The person you loved and married, and terrorizing your child in the process? It's not something Sans can understand. It goes against everything his people are made up of, on the SOUL level.]

Shit... [His voice comes out gravelly and thin, until he swallows again.] Sorry. I can't even imagine that.

I'm not the one who you should feel sorry for. I'm not the one who's dead.

[She answers hastily. J doesn't need to look up to Sans to see the shock and discomfort, the tone of his voice alone says enough. Things like these aren't uncommon, you could read about different kinds of tragedies from the paper every day but still, for some reason, no one wanted to hear them happening to someone they knew. It was ugly, unpleasant and too personal.

For a briefest moment, J grinds her teeth together and grimaces as her stomach twists and turns, signaling her to stay quiet about the rest. But her heart won't allow her to let Sans to blame mother for this, not when she was the real victim.]

And it wasn't her fault. I did something to her... and to father that made her do it.

Bullshit.

[Sans answers as soon as the words leave her mouth, not unkind but flat with disbelief. There were plenty of subjects in the world where complexity and nuance could paint a situation in any number of shades of gray.

This wasn't one of them.]

What could you have possibly done?

[The blatant and downright disbelief and rejection in his words are something that actually manages to rouse anger in her. He says the words so easily, making it sound so simple and certain even though he wasn't even there to see what was really happening.

She looks up from her knees and turns to face him, eyes hurt and offended. ]

I let him--, I mean. He had been sad and depressed for such a long time. I wanted to do something that would cheer him up so that he'd be happy again. Mom was very stressed, too. So I let him to-- [ A pause. The sick feeling in her stomach turns into nausea, making her shake a little]

I seduced him. Mom walked in and well.. You know the rest.

[Let him is all she has to say. The rest filters in slower, like sound through cotton.

Let him. There it is again, as if underlined in red ink. Two little words that flew in the face of everything that came after. How old could she have been then? She was practically a baby now, a little younger than Papyrus, and somehow even thinking about his brother in tandem with any of this is enough to set Sans' face like stone and douse his eyelights completely.

It's a frightening look on the man, though it's not J that needed to be scared.]

I see.

Edited 2016-05-02 13:15 (UTC)

[J stays quiet as she waits patiently for Sans to react. To show anger, disgust or pity-- any of the usual reactions she got from the people who knew about her family. The obvious discomfort and incapablity to deal with the news that she just told them, leaving her to feel lost and guilty for subjecting them to something so ugly.

But when the reaction she waits for doesn't come , J only looks away again, this time focusing on the empty wall in front of them, feeling just as empty as his eyes.

Well. At least he now knows.]

Hey, J, can I ask you something?

[The question comes after a long period of stony silence, made longer by how Sans empty sockets appear to stare both everywhere and nowhere. They were still empty now, the direction of his skull the only thing giving any indication where he was looking.

Right now, his skull was turned towards the far side of the pantry.]

[The question doesn't come to her as a surprise, not really-- but there's still something about it that makes her feel nervous, scared even.]

What? [She says after a beat, swallowing the air and bracing herself for whatever he has in his mind.]

When all this went down. [He begins, words carrying his usual friendly tone but with a shift to his cadence. The ease is gone, replaced by something pointed; as if each word is being carefully chosen.] Somebody must've talked to you, explained to you what happened. I mean, I don't know how old you were, kiddo, but I somehow doubt you tied seduced to what happened to you all by yourself.

Was it your mom? Or a cop or something?

Teacher came by and told me that dad's now in heaven or some other bullcrap. And that mom has to go away and I have to go live with other kids like me until she's well again.

[J answers, her own voice sounding rather defensive, not liking where this is going and what he's implying. She doesn't get what her age has to do with anything that happened, she's been hearing people tell her that she's wrong and disgusting for as long as she can remember.]

Alright. [Sans nods, lining up the bits and pieces he gleaned from the dream with what he knew now -- trying to make a bigger piece. His voice remains the same, at least, casual but pointed.] Did you ever tell this story to anyone else? Did anyone ever... I don't know, twist things around, trying to make it your fault?

...Or did you do that to yourself?

Edited 2016-05-02 14:15 (UTC)

[ Or did you do that to yourself?

That makes J's stomach drop. It's hard to breathe and for a moment, she swears that her heart stops beating.]

It's not twisted! [ She suddenly shouts, clenching her hands to fist so tightly that her knuckles turns white. ]

I'm not-- don't say things like that! You weren't even there! [It must be her fault. She's the perverted freak of nature, the one who hurt others and caused so much trouble. There must be a reason why her aunt and grandparents didn't come and get her from the orphanage but instead let her stay there, confused and scared.]

You know what I'm like, I don't care who it is I'm with. I didn't even give a shit about the mercenaries.

[That burns a little, though not in anger so much as shame. When it comes to those he cares about, Sans has always been a big believer in failure. Loving someone came part and parcel with wanting them to have the room to make their own choices -- regardless of what he thought about it.

Respect, that's the word he'd use on a good day. Others have used lazy. Sans is sure the real truth lies somewhere in between, nestled between well-intentioned freedom and inaction. If there's one thing he's sure of, it's the twofold regret that seeps in after someone he loves chooses a path he could have swayed them off.

It's a few moments before Sans finds his words.]

Do you really think that, or are do you feel more in control when you can blame everything on yourself?

[It's her turn to keep a silent break before answering to him. She takes a deep breath, shoulders tensing up a little as her expression hardens. She's starting to regret that she told him anything at all. While he didn't voice it out loud she still could hear the awful, hurtful implication about the true nature of what happened to her. The ugly word that she refused to say out loud.]

Don't talk to me like I'm a child. [Because she hadn't been one in ages. She had given up on her childhood the day she got out of the orphanage, the same day when she had decided not to be a victim.

Her voice is much calmer than before, but the fire from the anger is still there, hot and ready to burn.]

I know what you're thinking and I tell you it's wrong. He didn't hurt me because I wanted it just as much as he.

[Since starting down this road, the minutes have stretched on like years. All his genuine horror at her mother's actions at the start were tempered with a fresh, unpleasant twist of reality.

He still doesn't understand how anyone could kill someone they love. But even moreso, he can't understand a betrayal of trust so great as a parent taking advantage of their own child in the way J had been. If it had been him in her mother's shoes, what would he have done? Could he honestly say the instinct to protect wouldn't take over?

It's all a moot point, in the end. A monster would never do that to their child, would never even fathom the concept. Call it a naive way of living, but Sans vastly prefers it to the web of duplicity J built up around the event, trying to contextualize the event the way a child who still loved their father would.

Hands flexing at his knees, Sans' knuckles crack quietly.]

You love your Dad a whole lot, huh?

Edited 2016-05-02 20:35 (UTC)

[The faint crack-sound makes J's lips turn down, making her grimace. How long had they lived together? Over three months? During that time she had gotten used to the creepy and unsettling clacking and cracking sounds that came from the skeleton, but now she's being reminded just how much she hates those sounds.

Truth to be told, there are so many mixed and confusing feelings when it came to her father. She couldn't even name or recognize most of them, and neither did she posses ability or tools us to handle them. It was much easier to focus on the faint memory of the hero worship she had once felt, clinging on it while desperately trying to keep it alive.]

What I feel or think doesn't matter. He's dead.

Edited 2016-05-02 23:45 (UTC)

Yeah, but you're not. I'd say what you feel and think matters a whole lot.

[The silence stretches out longer after that, punctuated only by the soft whine of ambient engine noises; a constant aboard the ship, to the point where Sans barely noticed it anymore.

The mercenaries, the nightmares... apparently white noise wasn't the only thing he stopped noticing.]

I'm not in the business of telling people how to be. Helpful suggestions, that's more my speed. So if it helps you, take this as one o'them. [He begins, eyes still dark and hollow as he looks up at her. He couldn't brighten them if he wanted to at this point, the intensity of his feelings on the matter that profound. Monsters didn't even have a word for what happened to J, so contrary was it to their race.

Good thing Sans was a quick study when it came to the depths of human cruelty.]

Even good people can do horrible things. And bad people can be capable of kindness. No matter who your father and mother are or were or any of that...

[His ribs expanded in a facsimile of a breath, creaking softly.]

What happened to you wasn't your fault.

[No matter how soft, careful or comforting his words are supposed to be they still cut through the air like a knife and hit her right in the heart. Her breathing stops for a moment as his words roams inside her mind, dragging out a lingering memory.

"It's not your fault that you're like this." It's been years since that day but she can hear the anxious and cold voice in her head, as if she had been with him here in the Pantry instead of Sans. At the time J hadn't understood why Paul had said those words, leaving her only feeling hurt and betrayed, but now she could see a new meaning behind them. A clumsy and awkward attempt to comfort and reluctant care.

"What happened to you wasn't your fault."

But unlike with Paul, there is no rejection in Sans' words. No discomfort or disgust, only acceptance and understanding. ]

What about them? [Her voice is quiet and shaky when she breaks the silence, drawing her knees closer to her body and shoulder tensing up. ] The things that happened to them, whose fault are those if not mine.

Edited 2016-05-06 11:21 (UTC)

[Body language was never Sans' subject of choice to study, but it was without question the area he got the most opportunity to read. The smallest ticks and twinges could spell entire stories. The angle of a furrow on a small child's brow could be the difference between knowing they'd seen death twice or thrice.

Expressions told all sorts of stories. It's one of the many reasons Sans decided to swear most of his off. Still, some faces were easier to read than others.

The way she curled in on herself, the dark cast to her energy, the dimness of her soul -- it could mean so many different things. In this case, though, Sans decided don't touch me might top the list. Followed closely by I feel unsafe.

Not much he could do for the latter, but Sans kept his hands folded over his lap and his eye sockets back to the ground.]

Well, your dad made a choice. [And that's exactly how Sans sees it, too. Her father decided to do something -- something Sans can't even bring himself to think in much detail, such was the extent it horrified him. J's agency in the situation may as well have been that of a prop.] And then your mom made one.

As far as I see it, the only one who didn't have a choice was you.

Edited 2016-05-07 00:40 (UTC)

I did have one.

[She had made so many choices that day. There had been plenty of chances for her to prevent from any of this from happening.

She could've have keep ignoring the boys and their nasty comments and stay in school until the end but no, instead she chose to ditch the last classes and leave early. She could've gone to town and wait until mom got off from the work before going home. She could've went straight to her room in the upstairs but instead she chose to stay downstairs with her father. She could've said him no and left but no, instead she let him.]

I made my choice and let it happen.

[The silence returns, though it may as well be tar for how it makes the inside of Sans' skull feel. Oozing and dripping, it's difficult to repress the shudder down his spine. Imagining someone in a position of authority, someone a child depended on, a parent -- taking advantage of someone who would do anything for them.

Taking advantage because that someone would do anything for them.]

J--[He stops, rethinking. After a short pause, Sans begins again, turning to look at J. His eyelights have returned, though they shine with an uncustomary dimness.] Did you pay much attention in science class, sweetheart?

Edited 2016-05-11 03:01 (UTC)

[For a moment J thinks that they’re finally done with talking. She pulls the dressing robe tighter around her body and leans her chest against her knees, staring into the nothingness as she accepts the silence and let’s their conversation to sink in -- feeling strangely drained all of the sudden.

But then Sans speaks again and she tilts her head to the side so that she can meet his gaze. The question isn't something she expected to hear and it takes a quick moment from her to even register it.]

Ah, not really. Mom believed that God’s all that we need and always told to take all the science stuff with a grain of salt.

Alright, that's cool. Science isn't for everybody.

[He files that knowledge away for later. The surviving monster population was too small to maintain the diversity of human faith. They weren't without it, though. The Delta Rune was ubiquitous with anything related to the royal family, even if the prophecy it symbolized was mostly legend at this point than any real classified faith. Sans, for his part, tended to err on the side of hard fact rather than indulging in divine hope. Such was the nature of a scientist.

The Delta temple at the palace was beautiful though. Part of him misses it, even now. He wishes he could be having this conversation there rather than here -- the serenity of that place might do some good in calming her obvious tension.]

There's this thing in physics, it's called balanced forces. [He draws a small rubber ball out of his pocket. A present for Frisk, whenever he next ran into the kid. Sans sets it on the ground, careful to not make it roll.] Right there, gravity is pushing down on that ball with the same force that the ship floor is pushing up on it. The ball doesn't move against its will, because it's net force is zero. That means it's in balance.

[He nudges the ball with his foot, watching as it rolls away from them.]

What I just did there, I unbalanced it. Gravity is no match for the force of my foot, so no matter what the ball wants to do, it's gonna roll. Unbalanced force.

[There's a beat of pause. Sans lifts a hand, enveloping the ball in faint blue light and floating it back to himself.]

... It's more than just a science concept. Relationships can be balanced or imbalanced. N' until push comes to shove, it might not be obvious who's the foot and who's getting kicked. [He looks at J, perpetual smile shifted just slightly into something somber.] Parents and children... that's like, the definition of an unbalanced force, sweetheart. A Dad's supposed to use that to protect his kids, not...

[It hurts to do so, but Sans is full on frowning now.]

It's not your fault he pushed you and you acted as you felt you had to.

Edited 2016-05-14 04:19 (UTC)

[J follows the ball with her eyes, her brows knit slightly in sudden annoyance. She gets what he’s trying to tell her, or at least she thinks so, but she still couldn’t help but feel like she was being patronized here. The slow and careful rhythm in his voice, the tiny yet breaks and pauses between the words and sentences, almost as he’s trying to find an angle that a small child would be able to follow. ]

You’re again talking to me like I’m some kid. And what you’re saying doesn’t even make sense. I’m not some -- [victim. The word almost escapes between lips but she manages stop herself just in a time, leaving her mouth hanging open as she tries to find way to continue.] -- some.. Ball that’s been kicked around. And how can you be so sure that it wasn’t me who gave the first push?

(OPEN) - Beneath the make up and behind the smile I'm just a girl

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