[The words aren't what makes it happen. It's the movement. For a moment, something lifts in her when he stands, but... he leaves. Just into the kitchen, not very far away. But far enough. Another room. It might as well be another apartment. Another world.
She has no one to blame. It's her own fault.
This, Thresh, Twelve. They're all her mistakes.
Clove ducks her head, pushing her forehead against her knees. He won't hear her. If he hears her, he won't care. A sob catches in her throat, and she lets out a quiet, pained groan. It has nowhere to go, no outlet. The tears sting her eyes and cut her cheeks as they fall, but she sits in the chair, curled up in her own misery. Because she just told him they do things alone, even when they're together. Because that's what they are.
That's what she is.
It's her fault she's here alone.]
They're never going to be over. This is just another Arena. I want to go home.
[It feels like whining. Maybe it is whining. Soft vocalizations that escape between sobs. Between the silent screams she opens her mouth to let out, only no sound escapes. He won't hear her from where he is. If he does hear her, he won't care.
Because she's been trying too hard to be alone. And now she finally is. And it's just her fault.
She isn't even sure if it comes out. Maybe it does. If so, it's quiet, pathetic, needy, and frightened:]
no subject
She has no one to blame. It's her own fault.
This, Thresh, Twelve. They're all her mistakes.
Clove ducks her head, pushing her forehead against her knees. He won't hear her. If he hears her, he won't care. A sob catches in her throat, and she lets out a quiet, pained groan. It has nowhere to go, no outlet. The tears sting her eyes and cut her cheeks as they fall, but she sits in the chair, curled up in her own misery. Because she just told him they do things alone, even when they're together. Because that's what they are.
That's what she is.
It's her fault she's here alone.]
They're never going to be over. This is just another Arena. I want to go home.
[It feels like whining. Maybe it is whining. Soft vocalizations that escape between sobs. Between the silent screams she opens her mouth to let out, only no sound escapes. He won't hear her from where he is. If he does hear her, he won't care.
Because she's been trying too hard to be alone. And now she finally is. And it's just her fault.
She isn't even sure if it comes out. Maybe it does. If so, it's quiet, pathetic, needy, and frightened:]
Cato.