Really. Over the eleven-something months since That Day, nothing has truly stood out as Worse then watching their world unravel at the seams, including their own death - they don't remember it all that well, and the fear is fading with time, so it almost doesn't count. Except... Wonderland. Wonderland happened, and now there's a new string of worst-ever's to account for and there's no signs of it stopping yet.
Which leads them back to the pharmacy, and back to their quiet, lonely vigil. They're done. They're spent. They are so tired, bone-deep, running in ragged circles to help with first aid or fighting monsters or dredging up every happy memory they have to power a barrier that isn't enough. All they can do is be a shoulder to lean on, extra hands where needed. Bailing water from a sinking ship. But no matter how good you are at not sinking, at the end of the day, that doesn't fix the damn hole that's killing you.
They've gotten better at thinking around the cracks, though. Stepping over tangled threads and spilled memories, shoving stress away to worry about in that ever-growing pile of Later. Ignoring how they're running out of space. Mia (no, Ghost?) needs a hand, so they help. Alex is scared of what he's becoming, so they help him, too. And the next, and the next, and they won't be the weak link. They're fine. They can do this. They're
not alone?
Nothing but blank shock at first, loops of fear-and-stress-and-worry-and- grinding to a silent halt at the gentle pressure of company.
... Will?
It's a stupid thought. There's no-one else it could be, but
Relief. Hope. They can't quite stop themself from leaning into it, burrowing into the feeling like a warm blanket in the dead of night. Embarrassment is leagues better then that chilling, sickening, static-silence, left waiting for an answer that never comes.
It's okay. You didn't mean to. More relief, a flicker of there you are, sweeping away other errant thoughts as best they can. Late, but I don't mind. It's hard to tell with all the fog.
Late enough that they should be asleep, then. Some of the dark creeping in is exhaustion, rather then negativity, but they- can't. Not yet. ]
they have made many mistakes and ceremony is at least four of them
Really. Over the eleven-something months since That Day, nothing has truly stood out as Worse then watching their world unravel at the seams, including their own death - they don't remember it all that well, and the fear is fading with time, so it almost doesn't count. Except... Wonderland. Wonderland happened, and now there's a new string of worst-ever's to account for and there's no signs of it stopping yet.
Which leads them back to the pharmacy, and back to their quiet, lonely vigil. They're done. They're spent. They are so tired, bone-deep, running in ragged circles to help with first aid or fighting monsters or dredging up every happy memory they have to power a barrier that isn't enough. All they can do is be a shoulder to lean on, extra hands where needed. Bailing water from a sinking ship. But no matter how good you are at not sinking, at the end of the day, that doesn't fix the damn hole that's killing you.
They've gotten better at thinking around the cracks, though. Stepping over tangled threads and spilled memories, shoving stress away to worry about in that ever-growing pile of Later. Ignoring how they're running out of space. Mia (no, Ghost?) needs a hand, so they help. Alex is scared of what he's becoming, so they help him, too. And the next, and the next, and they won't be the weak link. They're fine. They can do this. They're
not alone?
Nothing but blank shock at first, loops of fear-and-stress-and-worry-and- grinding to a silent halt at the gentle pressure of company.
... Will?
It's a stupid thought. There's no-one else it could be, but
Relief. Hope. They can't quite stop themself from leaning into it, burrowing into the feeling like a warm blanket in the dead of night. Embarrassment is leagues better then that chilling, sickening, static-silence, left waiting for an answer that never comes.
It's okay. You didn't mean to. More relief, a flicker of there you are, sweeping away other errant thoughts as best they can. Late, but I don't mind. It's hard to tell with all the fog.
Late enough that they should be asleep, then. Some of the dark creeping in is exhaustion, rather then negativity, but they- can't. Not yet. ]