for a long, quiet moment, she watches him, turning his words over in her head like stones in the forest, considering what's underneath, how much they weighed.
her voice is a little quieter when she speaks again.]
[ the answer is: of course. they all have one. he hasn't met a single person who doesn't have one.
his is, conveniently, in a place where he can't see it himself. a little easier to hide. but he thinks for a moment, stiff-shouldered and grim as ever, before he bows his head a little for her to read the words in a little line under his hair:
they can't be saved. ]
No one is without one.
[ he lifts his chin back up and glances to her. ]
They are rarely surprising. [ people are so driven and molded by their greatest fears—he certainly is. ]
it's looking at Dimitri's that makes her feel something about all of itโand a surge of the same rankling frustration she's felt with this place from day one comes into her blood, hot and prickling, like needles on her skin. this, on top of everything...
it was so much. too much. and, seemingly, nothing could be done to make a lick of difference. she watches him lift his head again, and drops her own, slightly.
there's also another rising sensation, one she's been growing in familiarity with over the past few days, and one she is growing particularly uncomfortable with in this situation, considering the events of today. but now was not the time to leave.
she bites her lip]
...I haven't seen very many.
Have you spoken with people about theirs? [has he had to explain his...?]
[ this place is trying. it's difficult in a way that's both similar and not from war—seeing familiar faces, contending with killing them. except now it is, ostensibly, peacetime. this is just a school.
[even she'd been reluctant to the point of avoidance when hers had been made evident. what a terrible plague. would these, too, last as long as they were present at this academy?
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divineimpulse) wrote2021-06-05 06:42 pm
no subject
for a long, quiet moment, she watches him, turning his words over in her head like stones in the forest, considering what's underneath, how much they weighed.
her voice is a little quieter when she speaks again.]
Dimitri.
Did you have one?
no subject
his is, conveniently, in a place where he can't see it himself. a little easier to hide. but he thinks for a moment, stiff-shouldered and grim as ever, before he bows his head a little for her to read the words in a little line under his hair:
they can't be saved. ]
No one is without one.
[ he lifts his chin back up and glances to her. ]
They are rarely surprising. [ people are so driven and molded by their greatest fears—he certainly is. ]
no subject
it's looking at Dimitri's that makes her feel something about all of itโand a surge of the same rankling frustration she's felt with this place from day one comes into her blood, hot and prickling, like needles on her skin. this, on top of everything...
it was so much. too much. and, seemingly, nothing could be done to make a lick of difference. she watches him lift his head again, and drops her own, slightly.
there's also another rising sensation, one she's been growing in familiarity with over the past few days, and one she is growing particularly uncomfortable with in this situation, considering the events of today. but now was not the time to leave.
she bites her lip]
...I haven't seen very many.
Have you spoken with people about theirs? [has he had to explain his...?]
no subject
it shouldn't be like this. not again. ]
Not in excess.
[ just a few times, here and again. ]
Most would rather pretend they saw nothing.
no subject
[even she'd been reluctant to the point of avoidance when hers had been made evident. what a terrible plague. would these, too, last as long as they were present at this academy?
...
speaking of evident... it's been a week.]
Will you let me redress your wound?