. . . The memories are a blur . . . but I remember what you said then.
[It's perhaps the fragment of that encounter he recalls most clearly for how much it defines Dorothy—the belief that no one should have the right to change someone else.]
[ It's difficult to remember when she had said it... and what it had been in regards to. An item, probably. She and Rufus have met up so many times, she remembers that much, and they'd shared information.
... And he had told her once, as he'd wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up, that he was feeling capricious.
Funny, how vivid that is. ]
It feels like so long ago... but I never stopped believing that.
It may feel that way, but it hasn't been that long.
[In the Realm, every moment feels so protracted. Time is, however, the one constant whose flow cannot be altered by the hands of ordinary man. The fact of the matter is that it's barely been two months, so it's expected that Dorothy would still hold onto her belief.]
... Was I not obvious enough about it, Rufus? How I feel about things like that?
[ She'd said it to him, fiercely-- and it stands, it will likely always stand, because Dorothy is a free spirit. Things that hold her in place, things that try to drag her down or trap her or dictate how she acts and feels... she can't stand them.
She thought she'd said it during trials, too, when they talked about items. But...
Why is he the only one, Ange excepted, who seems to understand? ]
[She couldn't have been more obvious. Words alone mean little, but it was evident as the weeks went on that she did hold to them and still does. There was that memory—her memory—too.
The sad reality is that feelings are often disregarded, whether on accident or purpose. Rufus has done it many a time, himself.]
[ It's not a direct answer, but it tells her enough. That he'd thought it was apparent, but that her feelings had just been pushed aside and glossed over in favor of a goal.
Dorothy falls silent for a moment, gaze dark. ]
I suppose there's no use lamenting it now. [ It had happened. She's dealing with it, or she needs to. ]
I'm sorry, Rufus. You didn't need to listen to me whining like this.
[He didn't need to listen, just as she didn't need to lament. But there is time, despite the overall lack, and an abundance of it for the solitary tonight.]
[Having no expectations means that he won't have hopes for tomorrow's outcome. Either way, this is where they part.
Sensing that it's time to go, Rupe climbs onto his feet and pads back to Rufus, who slides his hand into a pocket. He takes a step toward Dorothy, pulls out a mini bottle of alcohol, and sets it down on the floor before straightening. Wordlessly, he turns around to excuse himself.]
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... I don't like... feeling this manipulated.
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[It's perhaps the fragment of that encounter he recalls most clearly for how much it defines Dorothy—the belief that no one should have the right to change someone else.]
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... And he had told her once, as he'd wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up, that he was feeling capricious.
Funny, how vivid that is. ]
It feels like so long ago... but I never stopped believing that.
[ It was why she'd never used those items. ]
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[In the Realm, every moment feels so protracted. Time is, however, the one constant whose flow cannot be altered by the hands of ordinary man. The fact of the matter is that it's barely been two months, so it's expected that Dorothy would still hold onto her belief.]
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[ She'd said it to him, fiercely-- and it stands, it will likely always stand, because Dorothy is a free spirit. Things that hold her in place, things that try to drag her down or trap her or dictate how she acts and feels... she can't stand them.
She thought she'd said it during trials, too, when they talked about items. But...
Why is he the only one, Ange excepted, who seems to understand? ]
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The sad reality is that feelings are often disregarded, whether on accident or purpose. Rufus has done it many a time, himself.]
People will believe and do what they want.
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Dorothy falls silent for a moment, gaze dark. ]
I suppose there's no use lamenting it now. [ It had happened. She's dealing with it, or she needs to. ]
I'm sorry, Rufus. You didn't need to listen to me whining like this.
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[He didn't need to listen, just as she didn't need to lament. But there is time, despite the overall lack, and an abundance of it for the solitary tonight.]
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[ All they have is time. ]
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Really, this all still seems so fantastical to me. A memory-devouring monster, getting to know a demon...
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But I'll tell them about you.
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[ Dorothy is quiet for a moment, and then she sighs softly under her breath. ]
... It's about time for us to say goodbye for now, right?
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[Having no expectations means that he won't have hopes for tomorrow's outcome. Either way, this is where they part.
Sensing that it's time to go, Rupe climbs onto his feet and pads back to Rufus, who slides his hand into a pocket. He takes a step toward Dorothy, pulls out a mini bottle of alcohol, and sets it down on the floor before straightening. Wordlessly, he turns around to excuse himself.]
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[ Dorothy stares at the alcohol-- from... well, she doesn't remember when they'd received it, but it had to have been fairly early.
And she lets out a soft, almost strained laugh.
When you were trained by the Farm, "goodbye" wasn't a thing that happened. This is one of the kinder acknowledgments. ]
Capricious again...
[ Goodbye, Rufus. ]