[Strangling someone. Well, there's three flashes of thought at that. Three images, brief.
The first one is familiar lavender hands around Beauregard's throat. Her face is twisted in unimaginable pain, blood pouring out of her ears and mouth and eyes.
The next is lavender hands around another throat. Caleb's. His expression isn't pain as much rage. Indescribable rage.
The third is hands on someone's shoulders. Lalli's. Holding him down while he looks about to burst into tears.
So she might get the impression the answer is bad.]
.... that's good of you. [a beat] I don't really know what to offer people anymore.
[she looks at all the flower arrangements around her - beautiful gifts, but born out of rage? so. I'd feel a little guilty giving these away when I was so mad when I made them.
she manifests a little handkerchief just so she can wipe some blood off her hands.]
.... I want to make it better, but I don't know if I can. But if you can think of anything at all - please let me know.
[When she thinks that he sort of looks around at the flowers - at her bleeding hands. After a second he reaches over to hold a hand out. His own hands and arms are covered in scars, all along them. Years of making something out of his own blood too.]
Think just company is enough sometimes? [Leaving it better isn't always so easy.] Nothing wrong with making something out of anger. Not everything is made with a pure heart all the time.
[ . . . . she'll reach out then, placing her hand in his. it's shaking a little, with emotion that's hard to place, but she's not one to reject an offer of kindness.]
.... you're preaching to the choir. I always wonder how pure-hearted people do it.
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no subject
[What a disaster. I need to do something with my hands before I end up trying to strangle someone myself.
it's probably an empty threat. but her hands keep moving, not minding the thorns of the rose she's twisting all that much.]
... it must've been worse to be there. How are you feeling?
no subject
The first one is familiar lavender hands around Beauregard's throat. Her face is twisted in unimaginable pain, blood pouring out of her ears and mouth and eyes.
The next is lavender hands around another throat. Caleb's. His expression isn't pain as much rage. Indescribable rage.
The third is hands on someone's shoulders. Lalli's. Holding him down while he looks about to burst into tears.
So she might get the impression the answer is bad.]
no subject
... I'm sorry. I'll -
[try to watch her thoughts better? I won't lie to you about what is out of my control. But I will try to be careful.
. . . a breath out.]
... would you like to have a drink? Or is there something else I can get you?
no subject
It's-- It's not your fault. It's alright. I'm sorry.
[But he shakes his head at the offer of a drink.]
... Trying to cut back, I think. Place isn't making it easy.
no subject
[she looks at all the flower arrangements around her - beautiful gifts, but born out of rage? so. I'd feel a little guilty giving these away when I was so mad when I made them.
she manifests a little handkerchief just so she can wipe some blood off her hands.]
.... I want to make it better, but I don't know if I can. But if you can think of anything at all - please let me know.
no subject
Think just company is enough sometimes? [Leaving it better isn't always so easy.] Nothing wrong with making something out of anger. Not everything is made with a pure heart all the time.
no subject
.... you're preaching to the choir. I always wonder how pure-hearted people do it.
[I'm not like them.
but she holds on anyway.]
.... thank you.