[the fuck it garbage is overflowing right now, but that's not much of a concern, because, well, see: fuck it.
and at that signal, walking it is, then. and ...because it's trench, and because cloverfield, there are less people to raise an eyebrow at robby's state, and any that do might get a "yes, and??" face directed at them, complete with rude gestures. there's a bit of regret after the fact, and the more the walk the more vi wonders if she'd overreacted, or if she could have been a wee bit nicer about it - after all, some of those stares may have been simple concern.
she knows this area well enough that she's good with where he goes, until she isn't (maybe not that way, the smell of blood's a bit thick and that's not what they need right now) and she'll direct the flow of the walk away from the general direction of soma. a few breaths of breathe in strength, breathe out bullshit are needed, and she can't help but whisper it at least once.]
Breathe in strength, breathe out bullshit.
Three ring shitshow of my life. Weightless. Timeless.
Fuck that.
That? That's my blood gift this month. I can't stop worrying, so we're a fucking pair.
[she offers a tight strung smile, and yeah, there's concern in it, a dash of frustration at not being able to do much but be here - that part will never cease to needle her no matter now much she tells people being there is sometimes all you can do. she still wants to do more.
and she won't push him to talk right away, considers not pushing him to talk at all, but then she remembers that he came all that way, and probably not to stare at her and play with a fidget cube. he'd already told a terrible truth, and it's doubly hard for his mind to process that when his body's doing this. so with a fraction of luck maybe enough of the energy (?) can burn off so that---
---so that what? so that he can re-live the incident he'd talked about? again? none of this is good, but fuck that, too, she's going in.]
no subject
and at that signal, walking it is, then. and ...because it's trench, and because cloverfield, there are less people to raise an eyebrow at robby's state, and any that do might get a "yes, and??" face directed at them, complete with rude gestures. there's a bit of regret after the fact, and the more the walk the more vi wonders if she'd overreacted, or if she could have been a wee bit nicer about it - after all, some of those stares may have been simple concern.
she knows this area well enough that she's good with where he goes, until she isn't (maybe not that way, the smell of blood's a bit thick and that's not what they need right now) and she'll direct the flow of the walk away from the general direction of soma. a few breaths of breathe in strength, breathe out bullshit are needed, and she can't help but whisper it at least once.]
Breathe in strength, breathe out bullshit.
Three ring shitshow of my life. Weightless. Timeless.
Fuck that.
That? That's my blood gift this month. I can't stop worrying, so we're a fucking pair.
[she offers a tight strung smile, and yeah, there's concern in it, a dash of frustration at not being able to do much but be here - that part will never cease to needle her no matter now much she tells people being there is sometimes all you can do. she still wants to do more.
and she won't push him to talk right away, considers not pushing him to talk at all, but then she remembers that he came all that way, and probably not to stare at her and play with a fidget cube. he'd already told a terrible truth, and it's doubly hard for his mind to process that when his body's doing this. so with a fraction of luck maybe enough of the energy (?) can burn off so that---
---so that what? so that he can re-live the incident he'd talked about? again? none of this is good, but fuck that, too, she's going in.]
Who was he?