synanthrope | (no subject)

(no subject)

Quiet week, isn't it?

[Saya will never be the first to say no curses but she's thinking it]

I remember something, from long ago. An invasion. Around this time of year. I remember locking the Warehouse.

It was a long time ago, but I was only twenty-six.

I'm sorry the warm weather didn't last longer.

[That's how one uses I'm sorry, right?]

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Anyone miss you?

[Carla keeps the bad joke about being too young to know Socrates to herself.]

My family, I would imagine. Here, no one.

[This is a little too much inter-dimensional nonsense for her.]

And it's too quiet here this week?

No curses.

You're that used to them then.

[She's only been through one herself. She can't even imagine.]

Of course. Everyone can get used to something designed to create misery.

[Carla laughs, a somewhat pained look on her face despite the pull of a smile.]

Accept it, anyway.

[Saya looks over, and her eyes focus on that, as if she's trying to puzzle out the expression]

Are you upset?

[Her jaw gets a little tense, lowering her eyes from the camera to her lap. ]

No.

[Just bitter, all the way down.]

Then what is it you're feeling?

[The wry laughter is more in response to being asked that question than anything else.]

Self-disgust, maybe.

Isn't that a waste of energy?

Yes.

[An incredible drain, and if she had any idea how to stem it, she would.]

Then why give into it?

[She purses her lips for a moment before murmuring,]

It's in me.

What's in you?

[She picks at the back of her hand restlessly.]

Thoughts. Memories.

Everyone has those, Carla.

[A tight little smile.]

How comforting.

Are you lying?

I might be.

You lie like you breathe.

It's interesting.

Everyone does it.

Not like that.

[She snorts softly, and her voice is dry,]

Thanks.

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