[ sweet kabby. they are in the art room but i must ask you again if you a-ok for content warnings because i think a little metaphor cyoa body horror will be good for the girly bonding.
so, provided you're ok with metaphor spoilers and ... that. then... we go. ]
anyway, she beckons her over like wow. look how nice and quiet this place is. it's just for art. isn't that lovely? can't wait for someone to die here. ]
ignoring that someone could die here, yes, as is always the lingering curse of these places. but they get about three seconds of selfie joy and art room bliss before this just
Rosamund comes out of the vision with a sharp, pitchy gasp. It's as if the wounds have stamped over her own body. Nothing could have prepared her for the sudden jump.
She knows horror. Has lived it. She knows what it is to die, to be hurt in unimaginable ways. To see things that would look ludicrous if they weren't real enough to kill. But the thing is, every time it's different. There's always room to be shaken by something new.
Her hand catches on Tama's arm. It's a tight grip, both bracing and grateful. Still here. Still alive. Still alive where it counts.]
[ it sure is!! sometimes you are an AI that cannot have kids for logistics and honestly after this THANK GOD.
well she's got her eyes closed because she doesn't want to see that. not again because this place seems to enjoy pulling that one right out of her skull at the worst moment. ]
...
At this rate it's just going to be exposure therapy.
He’s not wrong you know. Considering you’ve been through two of these and you can still hold your head up, even if it’s hard, and make other people smile…
[It's very nice of Tama to say. Very nice for so many people to say. So many nice things and sweet pats on the back, when she knows she hasn't done much worth warranting it in the first place. Took out a girl that everyone adored first thing, didn't she? As if she can't see how much everyone aches to have Vi back. How little she herself has been able to do to make herself useful in the wake, to make connections. To live up to better standards. Be an actual comfort to people instead of flubbing it up or making them come pity her instead.
Did she deserve this kind of freedom? Or was she written as a wafer thin archetype to fit a simple, childish story, and trying to be anything more than that is a fool's errand? It kind of bears out that she would struggle to be anything but a burden. This is all much too complex for the likes of her.
Sometimes she can say hey, I'm doing my best and it's not perfect but that's okay, because I chose to not have perfection anyway.
Others, she wants to bury herself in the deepest hole imaginable and vanish from sight and mind forever.
Today? She smiles at Tama.]
Thank you. [...] We're all holding our heads up as best as we can. Aren't we? No one gets through these without a few scrapes and bruises. Or things even bigger than that, really.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
w3, monday
so, provided you're ok with metaphor spoilers and ... that. then... we go. ]
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anyway, she beckons her over like wow. look how nice and quiet this place is. it's just for art. isn't that lovely? can't wait for someone to die here. ]
Rosa! Come here!
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[she pitter patters over, looking around approvingly]
Oh! This is fun!
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[ c’mere, c’mere. she’s gonna take a selfie of them in the art room ]
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[and not murder.
But oh, selfie! She cuddles in quick and gives a peace sign, grinning bright to the camera]
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ignoring that someone could die here, yes, as is always the lingering curse of these places. but they get about three seconds of selfie joy and art room bliss before this just
happens.
yippee! ]
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Rosamund comes out of the vision with a sharp, pitchy gasp. It's as if the wounds have stamped over her own body. Nothing could have prepared her for the sudden jump.
She knows horror. Has lived it. She knows what it is to die, to be hurt in unimaginable ways. To see things that would look ludicrous if they weren't real enough to kill. But the thing is, every time it's different. There's always room to be shaken by something new.
Her hand catches on Tama's arm. It's a tight grip, both bracing and grateful. Still here. Still alive. Still alive where it counts.]
Tama...
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well she's got her eyes closed because she doesn't want to see that. not again because this place seems to enjoy pulling that one right out of her skull at the worst moment. ]
...
At this rate it's just going to be exposure therapy.
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[no
Honestly just trying to banish the sight of it from her mind rn and failing utterly]
That was a really, really bad baby.
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sorry but that just makes her start laughing. maybe bordering on slightly hysterical, but it sure is laughter. ]
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In spite of herself she's laughing too, still holding onto Tama too.]
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It’s the worst baby. Holy shit.
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I heard you had to, um. Awaken, or something like that.
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[She has gathered this much. Hateful turn of events.]
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It felt kinda… powerful, and freeing. But until that point, we were sitting ducks.
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[She takes a breath, shaking her head just imagining it.]
I do think it's like...in some ways, a great and terrible hardship can make you stronger? But it doesn't mean it's good that it happened to you.
[but also it's literally die day of the next week aaaah memory bomb
Memshare of a memshare YOU DON'T HAVE TO WATCH THE CLIP it's the conversation between them after that's important]
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pause for the hot giant fish man. ok. done. ]
...
Oh Rosa.
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Rosamund looks a bit raw, watching this again. Turning her face away, grimacing.]
I...well...he did remind me it wasn't all so bad...
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You are doing well.
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Did she deserve this kind of freedom? Or was she written as a wafer thin archetype to fit a simple, childish story, and trying to be anything more than that is a fool's errand? It kind of bears out that she would struggle to be anything but a burden. This is all much too complex for the likes of her.
Sometimes she can say hey, I'm doing my best and it's not perfect but that's okay, because I chose to not have perfection anyway.
Others, she wants to bury herself in the deepest hole imaginable and vanish from sight and mind forever.
Today? She smiles at Tama.]
Thank you. [...] We're all holding our heads up as best as we can. Aren't we? No one gets through these without a few scrapes and bruises. Or things even bigger than that, really.
We'll be all right.