[she holds upright a moment longer. Watching his expression.
Then at last comes to kneel beside him.]
It...wasn't just the injury. It also was being from the lounge with the orange glitter. And I thought — this is so stupid in hindsight, but I started wondering if the hand bruise couldn't have come from Childe?
It just...it was a mess. And I feel so foolish now, but it doesn't matter how right or wrong I think I am. Siffrin is still going to die.
Can you let me apologize for that much? No matter how much you do or don't think it's because of me. Because I am sorry. I don't want them to be hurt. And I don't want to take more from you than you've already lost.
[ he looks to her and god he hates glitter so much he never wants to fucking see another piece of glitter ever again as long as he lives. he meets her eyes and hesitates for a moment before softly. ]
Rosamund... [ face twisting just a bit, conflicted, but then it released, and his shoulders sag like he's tired of the resistance. ] ... I will accept it... but you cannot continue to beat yourself up about it. We must acknowledge where it sits between us...
[ he accepts it, this apology, the reality of it. he's had to live through more than once himself, but without the fanfare - people dead in a blink, or slowly rotting over time. this, it's like a formality (you get to say goodbye, not quite a gift, but it's something, isn't it, a pittance.) ]
It's a mess - but it's going to be all right. We're going to make it so...
...Very well. [She squares her shoulders and still sniffles some, but her chin is held nobly high as she speaks in quavering tones.] I accept your offer.
[Though it won't erase the horrible weight setting over both their shoulders.]
We will. [There's a nod, convincing no one. Another sniffle. She touches her fingers beneath her nose and finds nothing to worry about yet, even if she fights off a hiccup. Pathetic little efforts to keep it all contained.] We have to. For them.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It was close to the end - everyone always scrambles towards the end.
[ don't look so mortified... pats seat beside him in the void. ]
no subject
But I scrambled. And now I've getting someone very dear to you killed.
no subject
The palm injury from mid-week was suspect with what we had on hand, and I was the only one who knew about it.
[ just slowly rubs his face a little, elbow perched on his knee. ]
You scrambled, but the circumstances weren't kind to begin with.
no subject
Then at last comes to kneel beside him.]
It...wasn't just the injury. It also was being from the lounge with the orange glitter. And I thought — this is so stupid in hindsight, but I started wondering if the hand bruise couldn't have come from Childe?
It just...it was a mess. And I feel so foolish now, but it doesn't matter how right or wrong I think I am. Siffrin is still going to die.
Can you let me apologize for that much? No matter how much you do or don't think it's because of me. Because I am sorry. I don't want them to be hurt. And I don't want to take more from you than you've already lost.
no subject
Rosamund... [ face twisting just a bit, conflicted, but then it released, and his shoulders sag like he's tired of the resistance. ] ... I will accept it... but you cannot continue to beat yourself up about it. We must acknowledge where it sits between us...
[ he accepts it, this apology, the reality of it. he's had to live through more than once himself, but without the fanfare - people dead in a blink, or slowly rotting over time. this, it's like a formality (you get to say goodbye, not quite a gift, but it's something, isn't it, a pittance.) ]
It's a mess - but it's going to be all right. We're going to make it so...
no subject
...Very well. [She squares her shoulders and still sniffles some, but her chin is held nobly high as she speaks in quavering tones.] I accept your offer.
[Though it won't erase the horrible weight setting over both their shoulders.]
We will. [There's a nod, convincing no one. Another sniffle. She touches her fingers beneath her nose and finds nothing to worry about yet, even if she fights off a hiccup. Pathetic little efforts to keep it all contained.] We have to. For them.
We need to find a way to end this all.