(5/20/01 by Dirah)
Dirah can swear that things are getting wierder and wierder by the day. Tifa's seeing ghosts, odd visitors are dropping by in utterly creepy looking Gears... And not to mention that, in all their good intentions to take a high-quality hostage, Tifa managed to find the single most disturbed teenager on the face of the earth. Well. If nothing else, this merely leaves it to Dirah's divine duty to retain her sanity while everyone else is breaking down. Hm. Maybe its because of stress. And what a nice thought that is- Dirah, the only one to keep her head while the rest of her crew struggles with the difficulty of this task in a foreign country... Hm. Has a nice ring to it, really. So, in general disguise, even if she has a hell of a time playing in character, since there are a few hopeless souls in this base that were managed to be duped this long, Dirah walks slowly down the hall, hoping to run into Tifa or Cerencia, if just to complain, loudly, about how things are being obviously mishandled as of late. What else can you blame spur of the moment visits from Shevvites on? No, no common sense is allowed to be figured into this answer. Or at least not in Dirah's.
And that teenager... Is now sitting on a railing and swinging her heels in lightly frowning concentration--each arc made at a measured angle of force and degree of rotation. No, that one was a silght bit too stiff. No, that one wasn't high enough. How complex! But yet, the game is ever so fun, and even Mister Citan is beginning to settle into his quarters. There was enough time for her to study, wasn't there? And it is with this diverted attention that Khiea lifts her head, hearing the steps of Dirah as they ring off the metal crosswork of the grate. And she... Blinks those distracted, ever-sheened eyes, before suddenly launching herself as best she can from that perch and propelling her frame towards that of Dirah's. The young princess aims her arms in front of her as she stumbles along at breakneck speed, absolutely shrieking aloud, "Sigrd!!"
And in the middle of Dirah's cheerful mental ego-boosting, her otherwise uneventful and meaningful walk down the hall is interupted.. By apparently a rather upset scream. And as Dirah blinks an utterly confused and ignorant glance up down the hall, apparently.. Their makeshift captive is running at her? -What-? And -what- did she just call her? Right. Obviously someone must have hit Khiea in the head or something, or she was on a downward slope of sanity in the first place... But, well, as many options as there are, Dirah is nonetheless stunned. And so it takes her a moment to actually attempt to attempt to dart out of the path of the little psychotic princess. Although not utterly gracefully- Dirah hardly was expecting to be throwing herself out of the path of children, after all- and she actually half stumbles, landing rather unpleasantly on her rear. And she only manages to snap out, "What are you -doing-?"
Er... Sanity? Whaa-at? Khiea's nerves--thrown happily back into distraughtness again by the sight of a tanned pirate wandering around so close to the door with the incriminating scuff marks--turn upon themselves promptly into a whining keen. "You're always so MEAN to me, Sigrd!" she cries, tripping in her own enthusiasm and resorting to a rather ungraceful tossing of herself in the direction of Dirah's legs. "-Why-? Oh..." She must have interrupted the person vaguely Sigurd-shaped upon some business, has she? Well. "What are you going to do now, destroy my things again?" The little princess's face turns up into an unhappy twist between a pout and a sob, dragging her words out closely into whines.
"Hey..- Ow!- STOP that!" In surprised pain, Dirah doesn't quite sound as male as one would hope her to be, in character and all. But, rather frantically, in light of being kicked in the shins by a girl who apparently doesn't realize that, yes, nearly full grown teenagers -can- hurt, attempting to stumble to her feet. "What's -wrong- with you?" Is the first thing lashed out of Dirah's mouth the moment she actually scrambles to her feet, and starts to back away rather warily, "I haven't done a thing to you, you little twit! And stop -calling- me that!" And its creepy how one can still look mightily cross when glaring with only one eye, dropping her voice to a rather bitter whisper, in case anyone else might be by to stare, "I thought you figured this all out by now! Its -Dirah-! Di-rah!"
"No!" Khiea howls out that refusal to the name. But higher reasoning -does- manage to kick in at last... Although it does have to struggle against the flood of sudden tears that brims around the edges of the girl's eyes. Emotions? Yes, they were unexpectedly strong things, especially when they were the fears and worries and hatreds of dreamers hidden away elsewhere. Khiea pushes herself to a sitting position and looks up at Dirah, her lower lip trembling in open helplessness. "But..." You called me a twit! "But... Why do you always play -games-! And say I don't!" Her head turning down as she manages to pull her thoughts together another fraction, Khiea still can't quite puzzle out how neatly to place the -feelings- from the rational. How vexing! But also, how very embarrassing. "It's... Not -nice-." But... When did that ever really bear anything for the young princess? Realizing what she has just said, Khiea stops her thoughts short and tries to figure out exactly why she feels self-mocking at her hasty conclusion.
Dirah merely remains standing, edged a number of steps away, fixing a rather dull stare on the now sniffling girl. First she's being dashed at, and half heartedly attacked, by the princess. Even though, as general rumor dictates, she has ether. And now she's sitting on the floor, crying. "You're insane, aren't you." She notes, almost too quietly to be heard, more just loud venting than anything else. That's it, isn't it. This girl has a rare mental disease that makes her look innocent when people are watching, and rabid when she's alone with Dirah. Wierder and wierder yet. But, finally, she gives a heavy, rather irritated sigh, and continues talking, almost pleading, "Geez.. stop that. Don't -cry-.. Its not that big of a deal. You didn't hurt me or anything.." Oh, of course. Right. That's why she's crying- she didn't mean to hurt you. Someday Dirah might get a clue. Its unlikely, though. "I don't -play- games, whatever you're talking about. But if you think you can just cry at me and get me to feel sorry for you like you did to Tifa, you are sorely mistaken." So. There. Even though the tears are rather obviously upsetting Dirah. She can lie. "And you're lucky I'm being as nice as I am! Remember, you're a prisoner. And we don't really even -need- you, despite what Tifa thinks."
Another sniff comes, and then Khiea covers her face with her hands. But... The young girl seems almost -ashamed- for bursting out in a way, obviously trying to choke down on the little whimpers that arise without even her own knowledge as to -why- or -how-. "I... I'm sorry..." she meekly replies, ending up with a hiccup and a sniffle. Insanity? That would be a very good assumption, wouldn't it? "'M... Not doing this to try and..." she manages, face turned down and half-covered, before another hiccup comes. "I'm so stupid..."
Dirah has never been a particularly maternal person. But she -is- capable of sympathy. And, despite what she said, its somehow, well.. Hard to accuse her of faking this, really. Not while Khiea's over there possitively looking -guilty-. Which is more than enough to make Dirah just sigh, and untense herself from 'screaming and accusation' mode. "You're one hell of an actor, kid.." She murmers, some half hearted attempt to prove that, no, she still isn't moved by the sobs. But its remarkable how poor a liar Dirah can be. This is just.. -awkward-. But, nonetheless, she walks over to the little kid, sobbing where she sits, and rather uneasily pats her on the shoulder and offers a hand, "Come on, don't worry about it. There's no harm done. I tell you what- I'll take you down to the dining area so you can get some hot chocolate." Well, it works for Cerencia. Maybe something sweet will shut the child up, or at least bring into light what's wrong in the first place. This kid is -seriously- imbalanced, apparently. And she's just getting worse. What sort of a thing did they take as a hostage? This is downright creepy.
Hot chocolate? Or is it the pat on the shoulder that helps to bring Khiea from out of her strangely induced depression? Either way, Khiea manages to start to swallow her whimpers, looking up at Dirah with a few tear-coated bangs plastered across her face. "Th... Thank you," she chimes weakly, clasping at the woman's hand in a sort of childlike need for contact. "That would be really wonderful..." She gets to her feet, dropping her eyes away again in shame at such a series of outbursts... A stray sniffle from her nose as self-mastery starts to become less a dream and more an option.