#empath problems (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dragony) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
capeandcowllogs2013-12-14 01:21 am
dragony) wrote in capeandcowllogs2013-12-14 01:21 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
WHO: The blunder twins
WHERE: The garage at their house
WHEN: At some point after this and also this
WARNINGS: tbd
WHAT: The dam has to break sometime. Probably.
HOW: Molasses
Procrastinating, she's found, hasn't made it any easier to prepare herself. There's no easy words, or rehearsed speeches; no galvanized ambition, or steady heart. She's not ready, but she might not ever be ready. Her fears and hesitations, still as strong as ever, are only countered by more of the same. If he doesn't know, then he can't be hurt by it—but if she doesn't speak, then he will be hurt by that. It's not now-or-never, she thinks, but there's no way of knowing when that now-or-never moment will arrive. There's never any warning, about this kind of thing. So when she slips into the garage—Rua's converted workshop—it's without ceremony or fanfare: she opens the door from the house, lets it close behind her, and lingers there, out of the way. Behind her back, her hands clasp tight together, to keep her from the more obvious postures of defensiveness, and from going right back for the doorknob.
She owes him this much.
She can do this.
"Hey," she calls out, loud enough to be heard over distraction. But even with just one word, and just that intention, she can feel her heart begin to race for nerves—and her mind already racing alongside it, searching for invented topics to follow with rather than say anything important. Maybe they need to go pick out some decorations for the house. They need to stock up on groceries. He needs to fix the heater. If she orders take-out, would he prefer that Thai place, or the sandwich place with the goofy names? Will he drive her home after she willingly undergoes a dozen root canals in order to avoid this not-yet conversation? Anything would be better.
Her hesitance is written in her slouched shoulders and averted gaze. She can't do this. Not now. What was she thinking?
WHERE: The garage at their house
WHEN: At some point after this and also this
WARNINGS: tbd
WHAT: The dam has to break sometime. Probably.
HOW: Molasses
Procrastinating, she's found, hasn't made it any easier to prepare herself. There's no easy words, or rehearsed speeches; no galvanized ambition, or steady heart. She's not ready, but she might not ever be ready. Her fears and hesitations, still as strong as ever, are only countered by more of the same. If he doesn't know, then he can't be hurt by it—but if she doesn't speak, then he will be hurt by that. It's not now-or-never, she thinks, but there's no way of knowing when that now-or-never moment will arrive. There's never any warning, about this kind of thing. So when she slips into the garage—Rua's converted workshop—it's without ceremony or fanfare: she opens the door from the house, lets it close behind her, and lingers there, out of the way. Behind her back, her hands clasp tight together, to keep her from the more obvious postures of defensiveness, and from going right back for the doorknob.
She owes him this much.
She can do this.
"Hey," she calls out, loud enough to be heard over distraction. But even with just one word, and just that intention, she can feel her heart begin to race for nerves—and her mind already racing alongside it, searching for invented topics to follow with rather than say anything important. Maybe they need to go pick out some decorations for the house. They need to stock up on groceries. He needs to fix the heater. If she orders take-out, would he prefer that Thai place, or the sandwich place with the goofy names? Will he drive her home after she willingly undergoes a dozen root canals in order to avoid this not-yet conversation? Anything would be better.
Her hesitance is written in her slouched shoulders and averted gaze. She can't do this. Not now. What was she thinking?
no subject
"...two years ago," he repeated. "So, um." He scratched his head. "Why didn't you get it healed? Wasn't there somebody in the City with a power that could've done that?"
no subject
Is now the time to make it clear? Or...
Even when she wants to be open, it feels like all the latches are rusted shut.
"There were." The diversion is easier to answer, she finds, nodding once with her words. "A few people offered to help me... and even more than that offered to go after the guy who did it. I turned them all down. All of them.
Angry, pitying voices on the Network... Remus's worried face, drawn and thin from so much weariness. The strange sense of cold, that's never quite gone away... She may have been focused on the body language of her arms, but Ruka's attention was incomplete; she doesn't notice the moment she begins pacing, but when she does, she stops.
"Because... I thought if I accepted it... once my face was back to normal, everyone could pretend it never happened. It didn't feel like the right answer."