sweethymns | OPEN RP POST QUATRE

[OH.

Amelia's fingers reach for the cap of her drink and she. Takes a huge gulp of that winter cold thing before setting her cup down a little loudly, gathering her bearings.]

...

Yeah, I got nothing.

[SHE'S SO HELPFUL]

But. You're here. And so am I.

[At least Booker would prefer her honesty over Amelia scrambling to put together some false comfort. He'd be able to tell in an instant that it wasn't sincere.]

No offense, but what good does that do me? I've got nothing and no one, now. And now you've got to worry about taking care of a man from another reality who don't even deserve it. Best I can think is that I go and dunk my head in a river again, see if I can get it right this time.

Don't.

[Her voice comes out a bit hoarse, maybe because of the brain freeze, or she's genuinely upset at what he said. Both. Her voice lowers to a whisper since they're one of the few people in the cafe other than the small line that enters inside occupied with themselves and ordering drinks, paying no heed to the two of them.]

... If you're going to... Try again... [Her faces scrunches up with distaste, with more distress, as if the subject of death is bringing up something else she didn't want to think about...]

Alone. You do it alone where no one remembers you, no one's ever seen you, no one knows your existence. You're in no one's mind. That's death.

[Her words come out in a rush, clumsily even. She remembers someone's death, she remembers the Witch King's words, mocking her:

"People w̶̜̟̺̗͍̒͆͑̃̍̾͂̍͆͂̚͠ẖ̶̢̖͂̂̀̂̓̍͌̃̌͘o̸̦̼͙̪̳̅͒̐̽̀̊́͆̂̋͜͠͝ͅ ̶̖͇̲͖͉̜̹̪̣̪͛̉̈́̆̕à̴̧̢͖̹͉̠̮͛̅͆̈́͑̋͐̽͌̕͝͝ͅr̷̖͉̤̯̟̳̠̖͎̻͊̊̑̏̈́͘e̵̫̥̥̲̒͗́̒̂̌̄̀̄͘̕ ̸̢̢̢̛̘̞̖̗͙̰̠̪͈̀̓̊̎͂̒̂̈́͆͘͘͝l̸̡̢̰̳̬͖̗̳͎̘̐o̸̢̡̺̞̦̱̫̥̼͙̮̠̊͋̇͒͘͜͜v̴̢̛̳͍̩̯͙͉̣̀̽̾̅e̵̢̥̗͉̯̼̳̩̘̖̬̒̊̂͑d̶̲̙͓͋͐̉ ̴̡̡̧̣̝̘̼̥̱̳͍̮̠̓̈͒͂̌͘̚ͅa̸͉͒̌̏̽̈̆̉̔͂̒̿̇̈́̄̚ņ̷̧̼͚͎̝̳͛͊͆̏͗̈̎̚ͅd̷̨̨̧̟͖̣̠̯̙̖͛͗́ͅ ̷̰͆̏̀̆͒́́̆͌̒̓̔̌̄͆ͅͅl̴̨̧̼͕̠̠̠͈̯͒̇͐̑̅̾͋̈̈́̇͂̓̚o̴̬͓͈̠̘͇̠̼̯̝͒̒̊̽̄͆͋͑͗̕͠v̸̧̨͉̻̼͓̊͊̈͆̅̓̂̎̐̈́͘͠͝ͅé̶̖͎̦̠̬͚̈́̋͋͂̓̾̏͊̆̚͝ ̴̧̲̮͔̗͍̎̿̽̎̊̽͘ exchange a part of themselves that can never be replaced."]

And that's... That's why... Not now.

... I can try though. To find a place far away if that's what you want. Far, far away, if possible, but for now...

[Her green eyes are filled with an indescribable amount of desperation an unspoken despair.]

Edited 2016-09-17 08:22 (UTC)

[He lifts his gaze to look at her when he hears the distress in her voice. Booker frowns, listening and searching, trying to parse out her words, her advice.

But it's less advice and more insight into her character, and something about what he's said -- his implied eagerness for death, the pointlessness he sees in him just being -- seems to distress Amelia greatly. Even as she tells him that she'll help him find someplace far away, where no one would know him or miss him, his look transforms into concern.

Always fucking it up, DeWitt, he thinks to himself, a self-deprecation he thinks is well-deserved. He doesn't want to be the reason why she looks so... desperate. It's his own problem; it wouldn't be fair dumping it onto her, when all she's done so far has been gracious to him in every way.]

No. [He's interrupts, before she can entertain the idea anymore.] I don't... I won't need your help with anything like that. Just forget I said anything about it, all right?

... I'm bad at forgetting.

[Being unaware, not so much. But once Amelia knows, there's little she doesn't recall, a skill that was earned from years of studying.

And she also knows that her heart is weak and that it bleeds everywhere even when she tries to contain it. ]

... I can still help though. Somehow. Someway.

Amelia, don't waste your breath. [It sounds harsh, but it's said more out of concern for her than any indignity he might feel.] There's nothing you can do. What I went through... It wasn't something born outta normal circumstances. There ain't a normal solution.

[He isn't even sure what the real solution is. Ending his life just would have been an easy way out.] I'm not worth the effort; you got your own life here, your own things to worry about. I'm not gonna detract from that.

[Reaching over to... Flick his forehead looking irritated.]

Ow. [He says out of habit, even though it didn't really hurt at all. Still, he brings up his hand to rub at the spot on his forehead that was flicked.]

The hell was that for?

I panicked.

[Now he's just lost]

About what?

I don't know how else to reply so I just. Do that.

[how is she so she useless]

[Ah.

He raises a brow, letting his hand drop back to his mug.]

Nothing to reply to. Like I said, clear it from your mind.

[Silence settles between them, as he also doesn't know how else to continue beyond that.]

Look.

I won't make you explain yourself right now, but as it is you have the misfortune to meet me.

[chugging down the rest of her frap, thanks. Aaand putting a hand on her head. ]

Ack. Brain freeze.

Then don't drink so fast. [He leans back in the booth with a small sigh.]

Why's it a misfortune?

Because...

[She sighs. Everything's gotten way too heavy, but there's no other way except to push past it.]

I've thrown away so many things before, foolishly so. And I'd always regret it, but I kept doing so because I didn't know any other way to live.

And now I'm... It's hard to let go.

[He raps his fingers against the mug, his expression hard to read. His lips are pressed into a thin frown when he responds.]

I know what it's like. Throwing away things that you should hold onto. But changing that isn't so bad. Most people don't even get that far.

[another beat] Sorry if I went and upset you. I didn't mean to.

["It's nothing," is something she wants to say, but she doesn't. It's not the right answer.]

... It's only been one day.

Like I said. I'll help. I'll help find another way out of here I mean.

Edited 2016-09-17 21:10 (UTC)

And how do you expect to do that? I meant it when I said my situation's abnormal. I don't really got a place to return to, anyway.

I'm not normal.

[Although that's been established, it's obvious she means something else.]

That said, I have... My mentor might come up with something.

[Okay, so now they're peeling back the curtain a little. He leans forward on his elbows, looking skeptical.]

What are you talking about? A mentor in what? We're talking time and space here, Amelia. This isn't something you can fix overnight.

[If she's not normal, then what?]

Well, that's not the hat I stick my hand in often, but it's something I'm not terribly unfamiliar with-- [She's interrupted by a rapping noise on the window.]

Alright, now what??

[Huh. It's one of the crows and it's tapping its beak impatiently on the glass window.]

[The noise actually startles Booker a bit, and he turns to look at the window with a confounded expression. A crow.

He flexes his left hand without thinking, certain associations about a certain vigor coming back to him. But all he says is;]

This place have a crow problem or something?

[SIGHING. And then she stands up, with her plastic cup in hand so she can dispose of it.]

Come with me. Can't have anyone seeing this exchange.

[Booker has no earthly idea about what she's talking about, and her words make it impossible to immediately ask, even if he wants to. So, looking a little dumbfounded, he stands to follow her out.]

You weren't kidding when you said you were abnormal.

[That might have caused her to grumble as she tosses her cup and opens the door. They're going back in the direction of her house and now it's become more noticeable that the crows are following her, one hopping after her on the ground, and the others gliding in the air, in a way that wouldn't be noticeable to anyone else except the two of them.]

When you live alone for a number of years, it tends to happen.

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