Usually, these little storms don't last long; they roll in and leave again, nearly as quickly. Small outbursts, usually born of frustration or just one more little thing that pushes him over the edge; easily taken care of, easily let go of, easily forgotten.
This one appears more slow-burning (crackling quietly, like the embers of a fire never quite snuffed out) after yet another argument. He brushes off any questions or any offers to do something else with i'm fine or it's okay and sulks restlessly in the nearby forest instead, turning things over and looking for who-knows-what, waiting. ]
What d'you want. [ The grumbling, almost flat voice coming out of him seems odd, more suited to one of the Waltzes than to him. ]
[While assorted members of his lively crew continue to worry quietly (and in some cases not so quietly, at least not until sufficiently dismissed), maybe there's something lurking in the wood he shouldn't be going near. Especially not with that fire burning the way it is in him, unless he wants to set something on fire.
But that mood of his is amusing to someone, if the soft, shrill, and hissing laugh is anything to go by.
(Really, anything that obnoxious is difficult to misplace, though, isn't it?)
The second Black Waltz is far more reliant on their levitation amidst the trees, wings tucked carefully behind them as the tattered hem of their dress skirts the forest floor behind them. They soundly ignore that question, though. What they want is... complicated. They don't need anything, they don't want anything—there is no answer.
So they tell themself. Insist. Believe. Need.]
Little and less from you. [They can't resist dismissing him outright, it seems—maybe?] I expect that rumbling thunder out of No. 3 but not you. Finally had enough of the rabble?
[No. 2 flicks their wrist lazily, daintily in the direction of the treeline.]
[ 2's laughs are usually enough to get Vivi to jump, especially if he's thinking about something else or caught unawares. Today, though, it just earns them another grumble. ]
...I guess. Maybe. [ He just doesn't want to be near friendly faces with all the thoughts that are buzzing in his head right now, but for someone who doesn't like to be separated (it's always led to worse things), it's hard to reconcile. ]
And I know that. [ It's hard to get along with the other Waltzes, even now. 1 and even 3 aren't bad, though it relies on catching 3 in a good mood rather than one of his many bad ones, which are few and far between, but even their best interactions have distance.
He doesn't know what to do with No. 2. It's frustrating, and partially the reason he's sulking out here in the first place. ] You keep telling me. It's not like I'd forget that you hate me or anything.
[ The last words are almost a snap. Reminiscent of 3 again, who seems to find it easiest to incite the side of Vivi that was a Waltz first and a child later. Storms of different elements, but storms nevertheless. ]
[At least with 3's temper, there's the promise of something explosive (and 2's found themself to be rather pursuant of the distraction found in arguments—it clogs the space where otherwise they'd have to think about... nothing, there's nothing to think about!). With Vivi, certain scenarios aside...
Yellow eyes narrow as if to frown, critical lights amidst the more solid part of their design.]
And you're just taking it.
[Questioning—intrigued, maybe. Really, it's just something to entertain them, it isn't even a facsimilie of caring about the strange failure who's dragged them all up and after him and his "friends".
But, well, there are a few ways to go about this sort of mood-development.
...Un...fortunately, not all of them have had the opportunity to develop past barbs and blows, so the outcome is undoubtedly expected—and accompanied by another one of those shrill laughs, albeit thankfully shorter.]
At least you make it easy. [2 drifts in a lazy arc around him, chin tucking under their collar as they consider him but maintaining distance.] So what brings you out here and away from people who—at least presumably—don't? [From anyone else, it might have seemed sincere, an honest question after one's well-being. It very much loses that nuance with 2, though, if not by the context then by the ever-present grin in their voice.]
[ He knows better, or should know better, than to keep reaching out. Once bitten, twice shy, except the second part never follows. He doesn't know why he does it, trying to understand these mages who are so similar and yet so different from him. Maybe he's trying to find a reflection...
He doesn't know, really. Feelings are hard. Sorting out motivations for everything, putting it into words he can grasp, is harder.
The question gets a sharp shrug, a reflexive answer. ] Dunno. [ After a moment, though: ] It's too much. I think. I wanna be by myself.
[ He pulls himself up on the rock he's sitting on, half-curling in on himself, one knee up to support the hand his chin is now resting on. ] What else'm I supposed to do? It's not like me fighting you is gonna get you to like me.
[ He glances at the Waltz, and then looks away. There's a little frustration in there, but as always with Vivi, there's a bit of sadness too. He's always hurt when these attempts end in failure, never hardening; it makes him an eternally easy target. ]
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louring
Usually, these little storms don't last long; they roll in and leave again, nearly as quickly. Small outbursts, usually born of frustration or just one more little thing that pushes him over the edge; easily taken care of, easily let go of, easily forgotten.
This one appears more slow-burning (crackling quietly, like the embers of a fire never quite snuffed out) after yet another argument. He brushes off any questions or any offers to do something else with i'm fine or it's okay and sulks restlessly in the nearby forest instead, turning things over and looking for who-knows-what, waiting. ]
What d'you want. [ The grumbling, almost flat voice coming out of him seems odd, more suited to one of the Waltzes than to him. ]
no subject
But that mood of his is amusing to someone, if the soft, shrill, and hissing laugh is anything to go by.
(Really, anything that obnoxious is difficult to misplace, though, isn't it?)
The second Black Waltz is far more reliant on their levitation amidst the trees, wings tucked carefully behind them as the tattered hem of their dress skirts the forest floor behind them. They soundly ignore that question, though. What they want is... complicated. They don't need anything, they don't want anything—there is no answer.
So they tell themself. Insist. Believe. Need.]
Little and less from you. [They can't resist dismissing him outright, it seems—maybe?] I expect that rumbling thunder out of No. 3 but not you. Finally had enough of the rabble?
[No. 2 flicks their wrist lazily, daintily in the direction of the treeline.]
no subject
...I guess. Maybe. [ He just doesn't want to be near friendly faces with all the thoughts that are buzzing in his head right now, but for someone who doesn't like to be separated (it's always led to worse things), it's hard to reconcile. ]
And I know that. [ It's hard to get along with the other Waltzes, even now. 1 and even 3 aren't bad, though it relies on catching 3 in a good mood rather than one of his many bad ones, which are few and far between, but even their best interactions have distance.
He doesn't know what to do with No. 2. It's frustrating, and partially the reason he's sulking out here in the first place. ] You keep telling me. It's not like I'd forget that you hate me or anything.
[ The last words are almost a snap. Reminiscent of 3 again, who seems to find it easiest to incite the side of Vivi that was a Waltz first and a child later. Storms of different elements, but storms nevertheless. ]
no subject
Yellow eyes narrow as if to frown, critical lights amidst the more solid part of their design.]
And you're just taking it.
[Questioning—intrigued, maybe. Really, it's just something to entertain them, it isn't even a facsimilie of caring about the strange failure who's dragged them all up and after him and his "friends".
But, well, there are a few ways to go about this sort of mood-development.
...Un...fortunately, not all of them have had the opportunity to develop past barbs and blows, so the outcome is undoubtedly expected—and accompanied by another one of those shrill laughs, albeit thankfully shorter.]
At least you make it easy. [2 drifts in a lazy arc around him, chin tucking under their collar as they consider him but maintaining distance.] So what brings you out here and away from people who—at least presumably—don't? [From anyone else, it might have seemed sincere, an honest question after one's well-being. It very much loses that nuance with 2, though, if not by the context then by the ever-present grin in their voice.]
no subject
He doesn't know, really. Feelings are hard. Sorting out motivations for everything, putting it into words he can grasp, is harder.
The question gets a sharp shrug, a reflexive answer. ] Dunno. [ After a moment, though: ] It's too much. I think. I wanna be by myself.
[ He pulls himself up on the rock he's sitting on, half-curling in on himself, one knee up to support the hand his chin is now resting on. ] What else'm I supposed to do? It's not like me fighting you is gonna get you to like me.
[ He glances at the Waltz, and then looks away. There's a little frustration in there, but as always with Vivi, there's a bit of sadness too. He's always hurt when these attempts end in failure, never hardening; it makes him an eternally easy target. ]