Work Text:
There were all sorts of unpleasant leftovers from Identities. Ishmael got carryover migraines, Heathcliff and Meursault had nasty hangovers, Sinclair would cry if you said boo to him(more than usual, that was). Rodya shouldn't have been surprised that she got the aftereffects of it too.
Her memories weren't clear at first. So when she blearily opened her eyes and felt that horribly familiar cramp in her stomach and light-headedness from hunger what she felt was terror. Which was funny, because if it came down to sheer logic, living from game to game and starving when people weren't letting her in or she was on a losing streak was probably better than suffering too many agonizing deaths to count, but that wasn't what her subconscious said. She sat bolt upright, reaching out to try to identify where she was, thinking I don't want to starve-
She was in Faust's room. Clean and white and clinical, like a properly fancy hospital room of the sort she'd never been to. Faust sat in a chair besides her bed with a bowl of soup.
Rodya grabbed the soup and drank hungrily, not caring about utensils. It was dark and savory and delicious.
"If you eat too quickly," Faust said, "you will get indigestion."
Rodya put the bowl down on the bedside table. "You cook this?" she asked with her mouth full. And then- "I ate, though. I ate enough."
"This has nothing to do with your failure. Your alternate self was fasting to purify herself on little sleep and handling heavy objects. Your body does not suffer from this, but it believes it does." Rodya tried to think about this, and concluded that she would leave mirrors to Faust and Yi Sang. "And yes, Faust did cook this."
"You're a damn good cook," Rodya said, drinking from the soup bowl again.
"Faust excels in all fields."
"...What the hell was the other me thinking?" She'd wondered this before, but this just confirmed it. "It's not-this used to happen to me all the time, when I was with the Yurodivye, and-" She cut herself off. "Ah, long story, I won't bore you with it~" That was times past. She was a different woman now. Dwelling on the past-well, she liked to pretend she didn't do that. This was...just bringing up too many memories.
Being on a bus full of broken people made it easier for her to do what she did best and run away from her problems. Hell, they weren't serious at all, not next to things like Gregor or poor Sinclair or whatever it was that made Ishmael wake up screaming at night. Just another story of misery in a City that churned out millions of them. The others put it in perspective.
Put it in perspective until she got back to her room-but that was only when things were really bad. And Rodya knew well how to keep herself from falling into that pit of despair. Not like her roommates...suitemates? Dormmates? Their rooms...well, Rodya didn't bother thinking about it because it gave her headaches, but Heathcliff and Ishmael both carried through to her loudly, and they both liked to brood on their problems.
Faust, though, was another story. Her room was...different. The only signs it was inhabited were her bookshelves, and Rodya had never heard or seen any of the ugly manifestations that she and the others couldn't quite kick. Everyone on their bus was broken, but Faust either was an exception or did a very good job of pretending she was.
Right now, she was staring at her. Faust never looked you directly in the eye, just near you, but it was with so much intensity that it always made Rodya feel uncomfortable-like she was being judged and found wanting. There was an echo of an obsession in her-Rodya could only imagine what her Identity would have thought if she'd stayed around until Faust came to nanny them.
Still, Rodya knew she was a proper sight to stare at-or she would be, if she hadn't just passed out. Her hands flew to her hair, quickly smoothing it down just in case. "You've gotta tell me what you're thinking when you're looking at me like that, Faust! Are you just appreciating how hot I am, or do I have my makeup smudged or something?"
"Your makeup is intact," Faust said. "Faust had not gathered you had a history of anemia, as you have no medical records."
Of course she didn't-doctors were pricey as hell. Hell, she hadn't even been able to afford K-Corp stuff. "History only, Faust~ You know I eat healthy now." Or at least, since she'd joined up with Limbus Company. A full belly for horrors beyond comprehension-not the worst deal she'd ever heard of.
"Yes, Faust had drawn that conclusion as well." She was still looking at her in a way that made Rodya feel like she was completely naked before her, baring every sin and ugliness and everything she tried to bury for Faust to look through at her leisure.
Rodya sat up, slurping up the last of her soup. "Thanks for the meal, Faust! Now I know you're that good a cook, you're going to definitely cook for me again, you hear?" She stood and was relieved to not feel any dizziness or spike of pain in her head. "See you around, kotyonok-you're a doll." She blew her a kiss and, quickly, closed the door behind her as she rushed out into the corridor.