idolpro | Nemesis Heart

[The house looks the same lived-in cozy-cramped-shabby inside, smelling of new air freshener over cigarettes and old papers and furniture that could use a good airing-out. The tatami was up for replacement maybe five years ago, and the electric carpet covering it is speckled with faint, not-quite-removed stains, but it still works.

There's one tube blown out in the light fixture over the kotatsu, still set up despite it being out of season. There's shelves of books and records and a largish, older-model TV. There's an old, overly soft-looking couch, and a massage chair that looks like it was salvaged from a dumpster. There's three pairs of shoes at the entranceway, decreasing in size, though only one name on the certificates and awards and kids' drawings pinned to whatever free space is left on the walls.

There's a shrine in the corner, and a dining/kitchen area at the other end of the room, where the voices are]

Hello?

Please excuse the interruption..!

[ojamashimasu]

[As he slips off his shoes, he looks at the shrine.]

[He slips off his shoes and they're not alone: there's a pair of men's workboots, filthy and with the soles well-worn, a pair of girls' penny loafers, shiny and brand new, and a pair of girls' running shoes, rather old and grubby, and a few sizes smaller than the loafers]

[The shrine in the corner is well-kept, incense burners and prayer candles arranged around a photo adorned with black ribbon, a pretty young woman with dark hair and thick glasses.

The same face pops up on photos in frames on the walls or dustily scattered around the room: alone and in selfies with a grinning, bushy-haired man, or radiantly pregnant, or together with an adorable dark-haired girl of her own. Even when you can't quite make out all the facial features, you know the young family looks incredibly happy with her.

Well. Looked, given the whole shrine thing]

Edited (flkdnaskl) 2021-01-30 04:04 (UTC)

[Ah.

It's hard losing people you love, isn't it.]

[Well, time to be a terrible home invader and peek into the kitchen.]

Hello?

[The man's bushy hair is speckled with silver; his face and ears dark and sunburnt darker. He is chattering on in lilting Portuguese, unheeding of the sprig of sweet pea tucked behind his ear, more engrossed in tending a pot of black beans and ham hocks bubbling pleasantly on the stove. His daughter looks perfectly put together, hair glossy and eyebrows shaped and probably a good ten years older than the photos of the young family scattered near the shrine. She has a corsage of hydrangea and red spider lily on her wrist; the petals flutter as she idly scrolls through her phone.

"Japanese, please, Daddy. It can't possibly be that hard for you by now."

His nose crinkles, but he switches languages, his Japanese accented and a little broken. "Your mother likéd when I speak my good language to her, y'know. To win her over, I only have say," (and here his voice goes deep and smooth, his expression going all corny romance) "o amor da minha vida...você me completa..."

Julia shoves back at him, rolling her eyes. "Please don't. You're embarrassing." His shoulders tense for a beat, then she smiles, catching his hand and leaning in. "How much more time is left 'til this is done?"

"So cold, Amorzinha. If you cooked with me more, by now you would know..." He wipes away a mock tear, demeanor back to carefree.

"Come onnnn, Daddy!" He raises his hands in apology as she huffs, then turns to get himself another beer. That's about when she catches sight of you, eyes narrowing to slits.

Head back out of the fridge, the man only blinks over at you, expression blank. "...Hey man. You lost?"]

[man, there are so many flowers here.]

Yeah.

I'm trying to find Nemesis -- er, Nemesis' pilot. I think she's in trouble.

Is she here? Do you know how to get to her?

You must be.. ah... her family, right?

[There is indeed a very strong resemblance to the girl you know as Nemesis, even if you have not seen one of the few memories she's snuck in.

"Who?" her father asks. "Why?" her sister snarks out at the same time, tone unimpressed.

Her father begins again, waving Julia back. "Sorry, we aren't looking for trouble, no enemies here. Maybe you got the wrong house?"]

[He scrubs his face

INTERNAL SCREAM]

Every time I ask her about herself, she changes the subject, or deflects, or says her opinion doesn't matter. She is absolutely unyielding when it comes to acknowledging her own wants and needs.

Even here, when I asked about her in the theme park, even her own heart tries to dismiss any concerns for her. And now her own family is trying to pretend like she doesn't exist -- there are two bikes. Three pairs of shoes. You know what I'm talking about!

It's like she's always trying to erase herself. Even her own psyche is trying to pretend she doesn't exist. Why is that? What has made her believe she has so little value?

Was it you?!

[Her father mostly looks confused, but Julia steps up this time, eyes wide and expression innocent. "I can't say I know your...person...but why would someone not value themselves if they actually had value? That seems like it answers itself, doesn't it?"]

Edited 2021-01-30 05:00 (UTC)

She does have value! She's funny, and smart, and brave, and strong! She cares about people, and she's loved. She's loved! She's allowed to have opinions and wants and needs. She's an important person, and I'd tell all of this to her face if I could only find her!

Something... something in her life has taught her that she's not allowed to be acknowledged, or to acknowledge herself. I don't know her life well enough, I don't know where it comes from. But something has reinforced this belief in her, and it's a gods-damned crime! An absolute travesty!!

Who has been there for her all her life? Anyone?!

[Julia sighs, long, and waves her father away, through the back door. "Daddy. Go." He frowns, but makes for the door, obedient]

[Then she turns back to you, composed and expression somewhat patronizing. "Really. You know you're overreacting again. I just don't know how we can have this conversation if you can't keep yourself under control."]

Edited 2021-01-30 05:23 (UTC)

[He puts his fingers to his temples and takes a deep breath, then lets it out slow.]

[Calmly:]

Let's talk, then.

[She stares back, expression placid. "I don't know what you want me to say. You came into my house and started throwing a tantrum. No wonder no one wants to be around you."]

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[ cute...

steps in-- the pauses, pulls back to remove her shoes, and continues again-- towards the voices ]

[The man's bushy hair is speckled with silver; his face and ears dark and sunburnt darker. He is chattering on in lilting Portuguese, unheeding of the sprig of sweet pea tucked behind his ear, more engrossed in tending a pot of black beans and ham hocks bubbling pleasantly on the stove. His daughter looks perfectly put together, hair glossy and eyebrows shaped and probably a good ten years older than the photos of the young family scattered near the shrine. She has a corsage of hydrangea and red spider lily on her wrist; the petals flutter as she idly scrolls through her phone.

"Japanese, please, Daddy. It can't possibly be that hard for you by now."

His nose crinkles, but he switches languages, his Japanese accented and a little broken. "Your mother like when I speak my good language to her, y'know. To win her over, I only have say," (and here his voice goes deep and smooth, his expression going all corny romance) "o amor da minha vida...você me completa..."

Julia shoves back at him, rolling her eyes. "Please don't. You're embarrassing." His shoulders tense for a beat, then she smiles, catching his hand and leaning in. "How much more time is left 'til this is done?"

"So cold, Amorzinha. If you cooked with me more, by now you would know..." He wipes away a mock tear, demeanor back to carefree.

"Come onnnn, Daddy!" He raises his hands in apology as she huffs, then turns to get himself another beer. That's about when she catches sight of you, eyes narrowing to slits.

Head back out of the fridge, the man only blinks over at you, expression blank. "...Hey lady. You lost?"]

[ waves, casual. ]

Yo, I'm looking for Xia.

You're her dad, right? Nice to meet you.

["Oh," and he seems a little taken off-guard. "Hello."

Julia stares back at you, eyes narrowed. "Since when did you come out here? --She can't play right now, sorry." She does not, in fact, seem very sorry,]

[ BLATANTLY ignoring the other girl. what color were those hydrangeas, anyway? ]

I hung out with her while she made your feijoada once. I couldn't eat it, but it smelled amazing, y'know?

Sucks we can't ever meet for real, but this sort of thing is important too.

[The bad one. She does not seem amused at being ignored]

[For his part, her father grins, genial. "Of course! There's nothing more important than your friends and your family. And good food and drink! If you have those, there's nothing more you can ever need." He nods to himself before looking back, surprised. "My feijoada? My girl knows how to cook?"]

[ white, huh. ]

Yeah-- getting better all the time. We were gonna learn some stuff together, eventually. I have a pretty strict diet, so she's always watchin' out for me, makin' sure I can eat whatever she's got around.

[ also coming closer, holding her hand out. ]

Totally sorry-- my name's Requiem, by the way.

["Rafe," and he takes your hand for a firm handshake. Even though it's cracked and callused, it's impossibly warm and you don't ever want him to let go. He does, of course, too soon, turning to grin at Julia. "Amorzinha, now you see what to learn real food can do. Our little girl has a friend like this!"

"Charmed. Or--" Julia cuts herself off, eyes widening. "You're--the real one, aren't you...?]

[ reluctantly pulls her hand back, rueful for a second. ah, kitty...

then glances at the other girl, brows raised. ]

Obviously I'm real. Who're you?

[She schools her expression, pulling up a smile]

["Well, I'm her sister! Obviously." The resemblance is quite strong, though Julia seems softer and genuinely pretty, less of the rangy rough angles of their father. "Julia... A pleasure to meet you." She does not offer a hand,]