Camille wets her lips, staring at her drink. Blinking fastly.]
Yeah, I'm...it's good to see you too.
[It is. But there's still a heavy pause. Camille swallows and looks up finally, trying and failing to school her expression to something respectable. With her colouring there's no hiding a miserable flush.]
It could have been anyone though. If they wanted, they could have picked anyone.
karlach is quiet, for a moment, and then kind of just smiles.]
You're the first we've had the chance to save. It could've been anybody, but they picked you because you got the short end of the stick, and it had the easiest solution.
Try not to feel too bad about it. Everybody deserves a second chance, including you.
Do you really think we're all getting a second chance?
[Sincerely. She wonders. Has her body count reset? Did that fucking ouija board disappear from the shop now that it's been used? Can she barrel down there and bring someone else back, make herself fucking useful for once?
Camille sucks in a breath. Her hand goes to her eyes, averting her gaze from the other woman. It's too sweet. Too kind for her, this open affection. Solid reassurance. It pulls the tears from her eyes too quick to stop, fat drops buoyed to breakneck speeds under their own weight.
She's older than most of them. She's fucked up, so many times. Maybe she's not as old or as desperately hopeless as she could be, but among the dead it's a contest she wins by a mile.]
We've lost kids, Karlach. We lost good people. The fucking dog? But I get to just...pop back up? Not even one week later?
[she says, firmly. the tears don't surprise her - she thinks she understands. if it'd been her, she would've been devastated. it's the same way she keeps refusing to let people fix her engine. other people deserve to take what they want. but - she's also a hypocrite! so.
karlach stays where she is, tucking camille's hair behind her ear.]
The idea, right, was to always bring you back, because they killed you to revive you. Because it would've been fucked up to trade you for someone else. You didn't ask to do what you did, sweetheart.
[...]
Don't hold onto guilt for this. Please. It's such a fucking relief to save one person. And it's better like this, if you want to be really pragmatic about it. How the fuck do you choose who deserves life the most?
[Her mother would do that sometimes. Adjust her hair. Always in public, in view of people. A real fixer-upper she was. Her untidiness was left to fester the second they were alone. It's taken time to unhook the gesture from her mother's prodding fingers. Even now she pulls slightly. Tilts away before allowing it to happen.
There's nothing of her mother in Karlach. She means every word she says. Sticks with people even when no one can witness the good deeds. Just about every person here relies on her.
It makes her sick sometimes, having even a slice of that attention. Doubly so now. New guilt co-mingles with the old and pushes out the tears, turns her breath to childish hitches. She's fucked. There's no hope for holding her ground now.]
I didn't get to ask. But I would have. If they offered. I wouldn't have picked me.
Even if there wasn't... [She trails off. What's the point in arguing this? She can't win. She can't shake the feeling and she can't justify it to anyone. They're all too kind to consider what she means.
I was throwing my life away before I even got here.]
...I'm sorry. I'm just. Fucking hell, what am I supposed to do now?
Yeah, well. You haven't got a very healthy view of yourself, so fucking forgive me if I think your opinion on this sucks.
[there's just a touch of irritation there, but it's like... meant well.]
Take what you've got and work with it. Build it. Try and make it better. You can't take it back, and you've got something that not many people get. Second chance. So don't waste it.
[a beat, and then:]
Camille, can I give you a hug?
[because it's important to karlach that she asks before she does it.]
Camille laughs at the jab, even in the thick of a fit. It turns to a wet hiccup damn quick. Don't waste it, she says, and another cinder block drops on her back. She can build a whole globe if she keeps this up. Play Atlas for a while, without the strength or godliness to bear the burden.
She doesn't have it in her to answer at that point. She just reaches for the other woman with trembling fingers. They're looking hag-like, crooked and desperate and knobby. The vile things curl around Karlach and the dreadful face gets buried in her body. The sounds muffle. It's only pitchy hitches. She was never a vocal mourner.
It reminds her of the coffin they crawled into together that first week. Camille soft stroking Karlach's shoulder, her hair. It reminds her also of a smaller coffin. Cold little girl in lace and frills, hands crossed over her chest. Wanting to crawl inside that one too.
She's still waiting for it. Twenty-odd years and she still wants to coil around the body as she lets her own go stiff. A fond and frequent dream. Together they can rot. Disintegrate, conjoined, reunited. An image that flashes in both their minds.
It's the worst part. The most selfish. If she'd stayed dead she'd be in the only company she really wants.]
[she's careful, but she's firm. she's warm, and she's solid, and she can't even possibly begin to understand any of what goes through camille's head, but it doesn't really matter. she doesn't have to. her goal has always been to try to ease the pain the people here are feeling, and this is how she can.
it's funny, maybe. this reminds her a little of daan. trying to pull two very broken people up to stand on their shattered and twisted feet, trying to convince them to reach for the sunlight, that they can. holding them up by very fragile strings that threaten to snap at the wrong words, the wrong gesture.
karlach is so, so warm. her engine chugs away, violent and thudding.]
You're going to be okay. [she murmurs.] You will. I'll believe it for you until you can try.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Because people care about you, obviously. [...] Welcome back. It's good to see you breathing.
no subject
Camille wets her lips, staring at her drink. Blinking fastly.]
Yeah, I'm...it's good to see you too.
[It is. But there's still a heavy pause. Camille swallows and looks up finally, trying and failing to school her expression to something respectable. With her colouring there's no hiding a miserable flush.]
It could have been anyone though. If they wanted, they could have picked anyone.
no subject
karlach is quiet, for a moment, and then kind of just smiles.]
You're the first we've had the chance to save. It could've been anybody, but they picked you because you got the short end of the stick, and it had the easiest solution.
Try not to feel too bad about it. Everybody deserves a second chance, including you.
no subject
[Sincerely. She wonders. Has her body count reset? Did that fucking ouija board disappear from the shop now that it's been used? Can she barrel down there and bring someone else back, make herself fucking useful for once?
Camille sucks in a breath. Her hand goes to her eyes, averting her gaze from the other woman. It's too sweet. Too kind for her, this open affection. Solid reassurance. It pulls the tears from her eyes too quick to stop, fat drops buoyed to breakneck speeds under their own weight.
She's older than most of them. She's fucked up, so many times. Maybe she's not as old or as desperately hopeless as she could be, but among the dead it's a contest she wins by a mile.]
We've lost kids, Karlach. We lost good people. The fucking dog? But I get to just...pop back up? Not even one week later?
no subject
[she says, firmly. the tears don't surprise her - she thinks she understands. if it'd been her, she would've been devastated. it's the same way she keeps refusing to let people fix her engine. other people deserve to take what they want. but - she's also a hypocrite! so.
karlach stays where she is, tucking camille's hair behind her ear.]
The idea, right, was to always bring you back, because they killed you to revive you. Because it would've been fucked up to trade you for someone else. You didn't ask to do what you did, sweetheart.
[...]
Don't hold onto guilt for this. Please. It's such a fucking relief to save one person. And it's better like this, if you want to be really pragmatic about it. How the fuck do you choose who deserves life the most?
You don't. It's fucked up. Everybody deserves it.
no subject
There's nothing of her mother in Karlach. She means every word she says. Sticks with people even when no one can witness the good deeds. Just about every person here relies on her.
It makes her sick sometimes, having even a slice of that attention. Doubly so now. New guilt co-mingles with the old and pushes out the tears, turns her breath to childish hitches. She's fucked. There's no hope for holding her ground now.]
I didn't get to ask. But I would have. If they offered. I wouldn't have picked me.
Even if there wasn't... [She trails off. What's the point in arguing this? She can't win. She can't shake the feeling and she can't justify it to anyone. They're all too kind to consider what she means.
I was throwing my life away before I even got here.]
...I'm sorry. I'm just. Fucking hell, what am I supposed to do now?
no subject
[there's just a touch of irritation there, but it's like... meant well.]
Take what you've got and work with it. Build it. Try and make it better. You can't take it back, and you've got something that not many people get. Second chance. So don't waste it.
[a beat, and then:]
Camille, can I give you a hug?
[because it's important to karlach that she asks before she does it.]
cw: mention of dead children/family
Camille laughs at the jab, even in the thick of a fit. It turns to a wet hiccup damn quick. Don't waste it, she says, and another cinder block drops on her back. She can build a whole globe if she keeps this up. Play Atlas for a while, without the strength or godliness to bear the burden.
She doesn't have it in her to answer at that point. She just reaches for the other woman with trembling fingers. They're looking hag-like, crooked and desperate and knobby. The vile things curl around Karlach and the dreadful face gets buried in her body. The sounds muffle. It's only pitchy hitches. She was never a vocal mourner.
It reminds her of the coffin they crawled into together that first week. Camille soft stroking Karlach's shoulder, her hair. It reminds her also of a smaller coffin. Cold little girl in lace and frills, hands crossed over her chest. Wanting to crawl inside that one too.
She's still waiting for it. Twenty-odd years and she still wants to coil around the body as she lets her own go stiff. A fond and frequent dream. Together they can rot. Disintegrate, conjoined, reunited. An image that flashes in both their minds.
It's the worst part. The most selfish. If she'd stayed dead she'd be in the only company she really wants.]
no subject
it's funny, maybe. this reminds her a little of daan. trying to pull two very broken people up to stand on their shattered and twisted feet, trying to convince them to reach for the sunlight, that they can. holding them up by very fragile strings that threaten to snap at the wrong words, the wrong gesture.
karlach is so, so warm. her engine chugs away, violent and thudding.]
You're going to be okay. [she murmurs.] You will. I'll believe it for you until you can try.