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[hypnagothic]

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[matermali]

[ Something squirms in her, a strange discontent that is not her own even as she leans into him, an alien discontent at receiving comfort instead of retaliation.

You don't deserve it. ]

Human...

[ She blinks back tears while her vision is blurred by his shoulder, and her hands slip to hang at her sides. Only for a moment, before reaching wrapping around his waist, holding him close for the time she is still able. ]

We both know that I am not entirely so. [ Her tone is bitter in this rare admission. ] And if I were to give in to that, as I fear I already have been? To live as my other self? No, as my entire self... Would I not then be evil, in your eyes? Would I not be beyond redemption?

...Are you beyond redemption, Morpheus? ...What of regret?

[hypnagothic]

For all intents and purposes that you claim for your own, you are human. You choose to be so.

[ he takes that small step closer to press them flush together in their embrace, and his head tips down so that his lips brush against her unkempt hair, the breath he plays at for appearances gently stirring the strands as his voice falls just as gently upon her ears. his words still focus on her, picking the thoughts and threads of logic that he thinks will speak to her most vividly while she despairs.

he's familiar enough with his own grief. it does not need to be addressed here. ]

You still seek redemption. You yearn for it, even as you doubt it. This is what sets you apart from that which you fear. Those actions that you regret will serve as your guidepost down your difficult path.

[ one of his hands raise to gently cup her cheek, cool meeting cool as his head tilts a little further, his lips now brushing against the shell of her opposite ear, speaking low and as confidently as he did on the first night they met. ]

Courage, Vanessa Ives. Hold to hope.

[matermali]

[ There is a moment where she nearly relaxes, his words triggering a remembrance of how he once took her nightmares and permitted her peace for a night. Her head tips into his touch with eyes closed.

But these nightmares are not of his creation. They are beyond control. Is she the same, now? Beyond control?

Does she truly care about redemption anymore? What is there even left to hope for? She is not like other humans. God will never have her, no matter how she tries to repent.

Only Evil seems to want her.

Her shoulders tense. ]

Why won't you give me a true answer? Tell me of your own sins. How are they different from mine, then, since you are not human? Would you claim no regret, and carry yourself above redemption? Or do you condemn yourself too far gone to be deserving of such considerations?

[ She holds him more tightly, as though expecting him to try and push her away. ]

Tell me of Nada.