laytondressing | (no subject)

[Descole lies on the bed, his stomach down, and his head at the foot, watching her clean. It's all he can do. He knows he can't touch her, and he can't comment on what she's doing, because he knows she just doesn't want to. He can tell she knows what she thinks is wrong.]

[He begins scratching at his hand impulsively as he watches her, worried about her.]

I'm probably more reliable and predictable than he is. I think we can both agree on that.

[It's all he can say, as he continues to scratch irritated. What can he do? It's his younger self all over again, and he knows there isn't anything. So he continues scratching the way he does.]

[Descole shudders a little, letting her lip free from her teeth. Well, it means she actually has something to clean when the blood drips down onto the floor, so there's that.]

And I trust you. I don't trust him. Maybe if I could find one who I can trust then that would help, but just the sight of any Layton puts me on edge.

Trust me, if you knew the Layton I knew, you'd probably end up being best friends with him.

[Descole himself, was at some point, best friends with him, but that was a long, and difficult story.]

[He continued scratching at himself nervously, as he noticed her bleeding lip and wasn't able to do anything. Before he knew it, he drew blood as well, and he had to stop. He wasn't helping anyone.]

Look, can we make a deal? Can you come over here, lie next to me, and I promise, cross my heart, and hope to die, you don't have to sleep or anything, I won't touch you. Just please. Stop. Cleaning.

I-- I need something to do with my hands. I can't just stay still like that, I-I...

[She shifts a little closer to the bed, though, and tilts her head up to look at him, reaching up at the same time to wipe at the blood covering her chin.]

[He thinks a moment, before coming up with an idea. He sits up and walks to the nightstand next to this bed. He reached into the drawer and pulled out a box filled with dozens of organized strings.]

[He handed her four different colors and let out a snicker.]

I've decided I'm going to teach you how to make bracelets. [With another laugh, he continued.] When I was a kid, I used to make them with my dance troupe inbetween practice or sets. I taught them all how, and I'm going to teach you.

[Sure, it was childish, but he needed a way to stop her from cleaning. It was mentally killing him.]

[Descole nods after a moment, managing to pull herself up to stagger back to the bed and drop down against the pillows.]

Okay. That should... that should take care of it, yes.

[Pulling her knees in close to her chest, she hugs her legs, trying to warm herself up.]

[He smiles and moves closer to her, now laying on his stomach and propping his torso up with his forearms. He doesn't care that she can see his skinned up and slightly bloodied hand.]

Have you ever made a string bracelet before?

N-no, I... I...

[She trails off, reaching out to brush the very edges of her knuckles over his hand. She's still hesitant about the touching, and it's obvious, but so long as things are on her terms then she can just about cope.]

You... god, you did that because of me, didn't you? I'm sorry.

[He shakes his head.]

It wasn't at all because of you. I do it on impulse. I mean, not even me, this is something else. My hand does it on it's own. It always has.

[He pulls his sleeve up showing scars and cuts all around his arm.] I promise it's not you.

But you... you wouldn't have done it that time if I'd just listened to you...

[She pulls her arm back to hug her knees again, burying her face in them as well.]

You need to stop blaming yourself. Obviously I am too far gone for you to help me, and even though I know you're just as far, I'm going to do everything to help you.

Besides, you didn't do this to me. You know what did this to me? Years of rigorous gymnastics and ballet training. And I mean years. About twenty something years.

And you know who put that on me? An awful man named Jerome. It has nothing to do with you.

[In a way, this was therapy. He constantly blamed himself for what his stepfather had done to him. Now him insisting it wasn't his doubles fault was saying it wasn't hos own fault. It actually felt very good.]

[Descole shudders, shaking her head. She thinks he's lying - well, not about what caused the issues in the first place, but that specific compulsion to scratch himself like that, just then, that had been her. She won't believe otherwise. She's too tired to argue it, though, so she just reaches out, digging her fingers into his shoulders more than is probably comfortable as she pulls him into a rigid hug. Touching is still difficult to get her head around at this moment, but at the same time she wants someone close to her.]

Am I hurting you, now? Tell me if I am. I don't want to, I just...

[He gently holds her and shakes his head, over her shoulder. He gives a small smile and a sigh.]

Not at all. Like I said, you can't hurt me.

[Holding his double is therapeutic, and feels wonderful. He feels as if he's apologizing to himself like he needs too, but at the same time is too worried about hurting her.]

I'm not hurting you am I? That's the last thing I want.

No, I... I'm fine, so long as you let me go if I have to move. It was just... before, you were moving me and... you're able to move me and I can't really stop you, you know? It just freaked me out, is all. You weren't hurting, though.

[She relaxes very slowly, leaning her head against Descole's shoulder so that her face is half hidden in his muffler.]

[He nods understanding full well what she's feeling.]

I won't make you do anything again.

[While holding her, he clandestinely grabs the string next to him and begins making the bracelets, nuzzling his head into her hair, and still keeping her close.]

Wow, I just realized how long it's been since I've made these. And I still remember how.

[The nuzzling makes Descole relax further, shutting her eye and burying her face in the muffler some more. What he's saying about the bracelets... thinking of her own past reminds her of the conversation with Monocle, and she makes a quiet noise.]

Mmm... double? Are you French?

[Monocle had said that the Descole in his world was, after all, and much as she doesn't exactly think that her double is from Monocle's world, that bit could be the same, she supposes.]

[He makes a puzzled noise and than laughs.]

Well, my family is French. I was born in France, but for most of my life I lived in England. My stepfather and my younger brother live in France though. And I've performed in France numorous times.

Are you French?

No... I've never even been there, as far as I can remember. One of the Laytons said that the Descole from his world was French, though, so I wondered if you were...

[She curls herself against him, reaching up to pull her mask away. She likes the feeling of his muffler against the skin of her face, and the mask's getting in the way of that.]

I don't really remember it anyway, but to the best of my memory I'm from Essex.

Well he's not from my world, I'll tell you that.

[He laughed as he felt her face against his clothes. She reminded him too much of himself. He guessed that was appropirate. Since no one was around, he took his mask off too, revealing the same blue eyes.]

Essex? Really? Eh...not my favorite place, but I suppose it's better than London. Ugh. I've been living in London since...well forever. I moved there for my performances. Cryptsell Dance Studio was there, so...

Mmm... I don't even really remember Essex. Though apparently I'm a rodent since I come from there.

[She snorts a little, nuzzling at Descole's muffler and pressing herself closer to him. She feels freezing, though having him close is helping.]

I've lived in London for a long time, too. I like London, though, as much as I like anywhere...

Eh, London is...London. Essex isn't THAT bad.

[He laughs and gives a little shiver. He doesn't realize how cold he is, either.]

I just got used to London, I think. And Bradley lives there, the studio lives there, it's just an easy place, I guess.

Well, according to that Layton, Essex is a 'vile blemish', or something equally ridiculous.

[Lifting her head a little, Descole shifts to pull the covers around them.]

Either way...

Will you show me how to make those bracelets, then?

[Wondering about her Layton's choice of words, Essex was never that bad, he laughs and nods as she pull the blanket over them.]

Sure thing. It's really all just knots. But it's knowing where to knot them, and such, where it makes it difficult.

I have millions of these from my old friends in my troupe.

[Which made him think, what happened to all of them? Sure they were just kids when they met, but they had to be around each other for years. They endured similar rigorous training, what happened to all of them?]

[He shakes his head as he begins to make a bracelet.]

[Descole nods, watching his fingers move as he's making it.]

It... it'd be nice to have something like that, I think. Something to remind yourself of friends. God, though, that assumes I ever really had any.

[Sighing, she shakes her head.]

It's frustrating, sometimes, not being able to remember anything. I mean... I have bits and pieces from when I was younger, but nothing that's really of any use to me or anyone else.

Really? Personally, I kind of want to forget my younger life. We can switch.

[He suggests this with a laugh and then lets out a sigh.]

I really would just love to forget ballet. Then theatre, and you know, I just want to forget it all. Even my parents, my baby brother.

I could just be happy with my servants and...

...

[He stops thinking about what he was going to say. And Bradley? No. No he didn't need him. He had to stop thinking like that. It was weak of him to even suggest such a thing.]