[Her eyes are kind, and so is the hand on Lune's shoulder, warm and solid and gentle in a world that, all too often, is anything but. Her racing thoughts slow. Settle. At least for the moment.
Breathe.
She breathes. Her chest feels tight, despite the alcohol warming her from the inside, and her stomach is churning and there's is still an insurmountable road ahead of her, but she breathes. And, finally, she finds the wherewithal to return the stranger's smile, though hers is wan.
There aren't any platitudes she can offer. 'Sorry' or 'your parents sound like good people' are well-intentioned, but they feel... empty. Nothing like that is equal to the weight of the loss that they're sitting with today, and so Lune says nothing, just listens to the other girl describe her parents, selfishly wondering what it would be like to have a father who could be described as 'easygoing,' and feeling her mind start to hum away again. If she can do what her parents set out to do, if she can figure it all out, so many fewer people will have to grieve as they are now, so many fewer parents will be lost so young, it's all up to her now...
Breathe.
She starts to reach for the other girl's hand, but stops partway. It feels too forward, too vulnerable to offer that kind of comfort to someone she's only just met.]
Was it him you were talking to? [Some people say it helps to speak to the dead, that it keeps them alive in your memories. Lune's never tried.] When I was walking up here, I heard you talking to somebody.
no subject
Breathe.
She breathes. Her chest feels tight, despite the alcohol warming her from the inside, and her stomach is churning and there's is still an insurmountable road ahead of her, but she breathes. And, finally, she finds the wherewithal to return the stranger's smile, though hers is wan.
There aren't any platitudes she can offer. 'Sorry' or 'your parents sound like good people' are well-intentioned, but they feel... empty. Nothing like that is equal to the weight of the loss that they're sitting with today, and so Lune says nothing, just listens to the other girl describe her parents, selfishly wondering what it would be like to have a father who could be described as 'easygoing,' and feeling her mind start to hum away again. If she can do what her parents set out to do, if she can figure it all out, so many fewer people will have to grieve as they are now, so many fewer parents will be lost so young, it's all up to her now...
Breathe.
She starts to reach for the other girl's hand, but stops partway. It feels too forward, too vulnerable to offer that kind of comfort to someone she's only just met.]
Was it him you were talking to? [Some people say it helps to speak to the dead, that it keeps them alive in your memories. Lune's never tried.] When I was walking up here, I heard you talking to somebody.