[ ... not what he expected, but he raises an eyebrow before picking up the one of the like, burgers or whatever and starting to unwrap it before he heads towards the loft stairs. ]
Ming Yi shouldn't be surprised, given how his interactions have been going so far. And, really, the memory would worry just about anyone, wouldn't it? What a monstrous, miserable thing. What an awful past. Would they be afraid of it?
He isn't. There's just the feeling of blood boiling, a familiar ache and anger. Starvation, abuse, suffering, all of it culminating in something terrifying and vengeful. ]
... well. [ The memory clears, even if it lingers, and his voice is as toneless as ever. ] Did you beat him?
[ He hasn't - admitted to it. Not once, while he's been here. But that White can resonate on a similar level, he can, maybe, at least say it. Perhaps it'll cut the memory off at the pass? He doesn't know. ]
Guess that's why I'm in Despair. [ After a beat, Ming Yi lolls his head back to look up towards White, where there is something old, dark, and deep before it gets shuttered away. ] I wouldn't go back and stop myself, if I had the choice. But it doesn't change anything.
white looks away—for his own sake, since this is a little more honest than he likes to be, but... well, ming yi already saw the memory, so part of it's already out, really.]
[ He watches him, for a beat. Then, Ming Yi adds, as he looks forward again: ]
Sometimes it's the only thing that keeps you from succumbing to your miserable existence, but then you're left wondering what the hell you do afterwards, when the source is gone.
There was a period, during all of this, that I was imprisoned for two years. It's why my stomach is "messed up." At the end of it, I saw him - like he'd come to check and make sure that what he'd done had worked. I died not long after, but that resentment, that anger, kept me from passing on.
It took a while for me to be able to do anything with it.
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Making sure I eat this week, White?
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I just ordered too much, all right? I didn't want it to go to waste!
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Of course you did. [ The sheer Skepticism. ]
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except in doing so, a memory plays out. oops.]
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Ming Yi shouldn't be surprised, given how his interactions have been going so far. And, really, the memory would worry just about anyone, wouldn't it? What a monstrous, miserable thing. What an awful past. Would they be afraid of it?
He isn't. There's just the feeling of blood boiling, a familiar ache and anger. Starvation, abuse, suffering, all of it culminating in something terrifying and vengeful. ]
... well. [ The memory clears, even if it lingers, and his voice is as toneless as ever. ] Did you beat him?
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once the memory fades, white leans back from the loft edge.]
Ripped his head off.
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He starts laughing, dark and deep, dropping down to sit on the stairs up to the loft as his shoulders shake with it. ]
Good - I think I know why we were roomed together, in some cosmic sick irony.
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well, that's not quite the reaction white expected, as he peers over at ming yi again.]
... Uh, I'm guessing the answer is probably "never" on some level, but are you okay?
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I ripped off someone's head in retribution to the suffering that they caused me, so, I don't know, White. Were you okay when you ripped off his head?
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white lets out a quiet scoff, smiling mirthlessly.]
... No.
[not when he did it, and not after either, despite his lack of regrets over it.]
Guess that's why you're in Despair, huh?
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Guess that's why I'm in Despair. [ After a beat, Ming Yi lolls his head back to look up towards White, where there is something old, dark, and deep before it gets shuttered away. ] I wouldn't go back and stop myself, if I had the choice. But it doesn't change anything.
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[...
white looks away—for his own sake, since this is a little more honest than he likes to be, but... well, ming yi already saw the memory, so part of it's already out, really.]
Sometimes hate's all that keeps you going.
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[ He watches him, for a beat. Then, Ming Yi adds, as he looks forward again: ]
Sometimes it's the only thing that keeps you from succumbing to your miserable existence, but then you're left wondering what the hell you do afterwards, when the source is gone.
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Fuck. [too relatable.] Yeah, pretty much. Especially when you gotta hold onto it longer than most people even live for, I'm guessing?
[he waited over a hundred years for his revenge. given ming yi's age, it was probably even longer for him.]
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There was a period, during all of this, that I was imprisoned for two years. It's why my stomach is "messed up." At the end of it, I saw him - like he'd come to check and make sure that what he'd done had worked. I died not long after, but that resentment, that anger, kept me from passing on.
It took a while for me to be able to do anything with it.
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[whoever "he" is.]
So when you say you're a ghost, you're a vengeful spirit or something?