[She watches him tap. Reflexively, her fingers splay to join in. Press around his, unable to connect. Solid as brick.]
My sister's a killer. My mother's a killer. [A beat. She needs the time to choke. The words come out thick.] It was her medicine, you know. I used it on him. At curfew. Put it one of the drinks and whoever picked it up...well.
[She laughs. It's ragged, wretched. It ends with her clutching her own face.]
I never did tell you what those words meant, did I?
[The first week here, in the church. A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.]
[ it’s strange how it’s so … fluid one moment, shifting like fog, but immediately knows when someone tries to breach it. he taps the surface again, and it solidifies like stone between his hand and hers. ]
No, you didn’t.
[ “a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.”
come to think of it, a bottle of medicine had been her item from home, listed on that profile, hadn’t it? ]
Well, there you have it. [It's too hard to keep looking at him. She shudders, breath rasping, abandoning the touch through the barrier to clutch at her arm.] I followed in the family footsteps, and now I'm just waiting.
It doesn't sound like your family had monster possession to worry about. [ that is... quite literally a huge sign she was probably not like her family. ]
I don't have quite the same outright negative view on death I think of lot of people have, but I would argue wanting so badly not to be like someone or something makes you a cut above them in the first place.
[ ... ]
No, they didn't. I'm not sure what that means for you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scrapdraught) wrote2024-06-09 08:28 pm
Spoilers
[She watches him tap. Reflexively, her fingers splay to join in. Press around his, unable to connect. Solid as brick.]
My sister's a killer. My mother's a killer. [A beat. She needs the time to choke. The words come out thick.] It was her medicine, you know. I used it on him. At curfew. Put it one of the drinks and whoever picked it up...well.
[She laughs. It's ragged, wretched. It ends with her clutching her own face.]
I never did tell you what those words meant, did I?
[The first week here, in the church. A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.]
puts them in my mouth
No, you didn’t.
[ “a child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.”
come to think of it, a bottle of medicine had been her item from home, listed on that profile, hadn’t it? ]
SPIT THAT OUT /gale voice
Well, there you have it. [It's too hard to keep looking at him. She shudders, breath rasping, abandoning the touch through the barrier to clutch at her arm.] I followed in the family footsteps, and now I'm just waiting.
...They didn't vote for me, though.
GROWLS AND SHAKES IT AROUND
I don't have quite the same outright negative view on death I think of lot of people have, but I would argue wanting so badly not to be like someone or something makes you a cut above them in the first place.
[ ... ]
No, they didn't. I'm not sure what that means for you.