She shifts on the bed, and she can't look at them. She's so grateful Clarte is blind right now. There is something about that statement that makes her uncomfortable, uneasy, and it also makes her hate herself a little more. ]
... I don't want to die, Clarte. I never have. I would never choose death willingly.
[ It's quiet, almost resigned, and barely threaded with the bitterness and resentment she has for the life she was born into, for all the work she's done to build a life that could survive past the ending of a storybook. ]
[that's the one of the things they'll never be able to relate to her over. still, they can understand it from an outside perspective; they can feel it through their own desire to have her live.]
It's a cold comfort, but perhaps it doesn't have to be the end.
they listen, quiet long enough to show that they're thinking over it. and then, easily—]
Then I'll find another one for you.
[... they and roxana are fundamentally different; clarte has never had a drive to live, ever in their life. even if they'd never met melina, they wouldn't have turned out the way roxana did—they simply would've accepted dying early.
still, they wonder. if perhaps one of the key distinctions between them and roxana is that they, at least, had someone reach out and give them a better reason to hold on.]
[ Easily, they say something that takes her aback.
Roxana has one other goal other than simply surviving, something she's worked towards slowly but surely for years, but its stakes are dependent on her survival. Even if she knows the dead aren't truly dead, she still has no guarantee they can come back. She has never had a guarantee for anything. Everything has always been a risk.
She moves for selfish reasons, and even if Clarte's selflessness can be selfish, that is still one of the fundamental differences between them.
She looks at them for a long while, turning their words over in her head, and she still can't figure out: ]
[ She is so grateful for their blindness tonight. It means she can work to keep her voice even and not care about the way she can't quite look at them right now. She doesn't meet their gaze. ]
What reason would you have to?
[ She killed their boyfriend? Their closest friend? ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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... All right. I suppose I am the reason for part of it.
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Yes. Also because you're my friend, and I hate to have to grieve for you as well.
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She shifts on the bed, and she can't look at them. She's so grateful Clarte is blind right now. There is something about that statement that makes her uncomfortable, uneasy, and it also makes her hate herself a little more. ]
... Thank you, Clarte.
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they can feel the shift, at least, as they gaze at a random point in space.]
You don't need to thank me for something like that.
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[ She is not sure how much Clarte really knows her, but if they would grieve her still...
It's a kindness that makes her uneasy. ]
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Am I making you uncomfortable, Roxana?
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Of course not.
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... I don't suppose you'd tell me if I asked what you're thinking.
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[ It's quiet, almost resigned, and barely threaded with the bitterness and resentment she has for the life she was born into, for all the work she's done to build a life that could survive past the ending of a storybook. ]
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[that's the one of the things they'll never be able to relate to her over. still, they can understand it from an outside perspective; they can feel it through their own desire to have her live.]
It's a cold comfort, but perhaps it doesn't have to be the end.
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[ Her reason behind everything would be taken away. Even if the dead are coming back, even if they can come back, all her struggles...
Sometimes, you have to be an edgy 19yo goth. ]
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It means...?
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That I have none.
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she doesn't want to answer this.
so she doesn't. ]
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Okay. If it's not something you can bear, then I'll take it on.
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You could end up killing me tomorrow, and this will give this conversation a whole new meaning.
[ lmao ]
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[i hate you]
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.... Meaning. Reason to exist.
[ Is that something someone like Clarte will take on? ]
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they listen, quiet long enough to show that they're thinking over it. and then, easily—]
Then I'll find another one for you.
[... they and roxana are fundamentally different; clarte has never had a drive to live, ever in their life. even if they'd never met melina, they wouldn't have turned out the way roxana did—they simply would've accepted dying early.
still, they wonder. if perhaps one of the key distinctions between them and roxana is that they, at least, had someone reach out and give them a better reason to hold on.]
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Roxana has one other goal other than simply surviving, something she's worked towards slowly but surely for years, but its stakes are dependent on her survival. Even if she knows the dead aren't truly dead, she still has no guarantee they can come back. She has never had a guarantee for anything. Everything has always been a risk.
She moves for selfish reasons, and even if Clarte's selflessness can be selfish, that is still one of the fundamental differences between them.
She looks at them for a long while, turning their words over in her head, and she still can't figure out: ]
Why?
[ There's no reason for them to. ]
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Why wouldn't I?
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What reason would you have to?
[ She killed their boyfriend? Their closest friend? ]
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Because even if I may not know exactly how you feel—pain, sorrow, and feeling empty inside are universal.
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Okay, this is better. Roxana can look at Clarte again. ]
Is this how you feel sometimes?
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