[Like. The absolute second he puts his hand on her back, she hunches into the fold of her arms and starts sobbing. So. Not really an answer either way.]
[oops there she goes. So talking about nothing is fine too. he knows she's still injured and he doesn't want to make that any worse but sobbing on your own seems worse to him so. He'll just try and wrap around her and her cursed comfort sword, putting his chin on top of her head.]
[She clings to his shirt immediately, as embarrassingly desperate to be held by someone as she is furious at herself and humiliated by that desperation. So much of who she is is built on a foundation that she feels will shatter if she permits this, if she permits anyone to see that the Ninth House is nothing more than a desperate lonely child.
It's a vile feeling, but she has no control over it, now. He didn't leave when she tried to poison him away, so she's lost this fight already.]
[He'll simply stay there, quiet, as long as she permits it - less of a hug and more just trying to wrap her up in that ostentatious coat, the inside of it speckled with the moon, constellations pricked out in careful embroidery. sword in her arms and all, so protective of her softer self that she surrounds it with bone and paint to shield it. clinging back as much as she's clinging to him. He thinks now, of another girl who tries to protect herself with foul words and a rough exterior. maybe she wasn't wrong that he's a bit of a desperate, lonely child too in this moment.]
[She. . . has a lot of tears to cry right now. She sort of hiccup cries, like she's about five years old and has lost the plot of why she's crying and is now just a messy ball of snot and feelings. Except that's not a real memory; that never was her as a child. How could it have been?
Eventually, she'll calm down a little, enough to feel embarrassed again, pushing him away by his chest, still kind of messily crying a little.]
. . . Not talk about it, I think. Some other time, perhaps.
I can't think what I'd get that's so expansive. Though it doesn't matter. If I tire of it, I'll cut it off and regrow the skin.
[. . . Speaking of.]
I think I ought to go to the med bay. It's only a question of how long I ought to try to heal. There are repercussions equal to the length of time one spends in there.
[She honestly needs. Like. A lot of help. Both of her legs are broken. One is just like, jutting out wrong to the side, but the other leg seems crushed. How did she even walk on this. She wears clothes that cover her whole body but like. It really looks like something crunched on her.]
[maam how the FUCK did you get to your room!!!! hello?????
well she's tiny (even if she's holding a sword too), so, probably the best solution outside of finding a wheelchair is just picking her up and hoping she can tolerate it long enough to get to the medbay.]
[She walked? It's fine. She really is tiny and the sword, while heavy, only adds a few pounds. He should be able to lift her just fine. It's painful, but she can tolerate it.]
I'm not a stranger to pain.
[She's lifted up, biting hard against the hiss of breath when she's moved, but - that's all. She's shaky, again, and just starts talking, the words fast and angry.]
It was pathetic how this happened. Pathetic. We had nearly succeeded in getting away from those - disgusting, monstrous things, and then I simply. Saw something I couldn't see, and fainted then and there, despite the peril it put the others in.
I tire of being an invalid. I tire of being a burden to others.
[Somehow he'll get the sense that none of this is whatever caused the emotion that had her sobbing; it comes from a different place, more okay to talk about.]
[strength score . . . . . . bad, but it's fine, probably. He doesn't give her any sort of pity looks or anything at that hiss, since she'd likely hate that shit. Just a few little more of those almost automatic alright come on and you're fine's like you're talking to a kid that fell over instead of a almost grown adult who clearly got smooshed by something.]
You aren't an invalid - you walked on, what is this? Two broken legs all the way to your damn room? And you aren't a burden. Barely weigh anything. Whole point of having a group is you can lean on each other. [Fuck you, this is definitely a collaborative exercise?] I'm sure you either saved their arses from something earlier or you'll get them next fight that comes around. You fought something and survived, and that's all that matters right now.
[Strength score bad, but she's also really tiny and emaciated.]
Actually, we all died.
[So. Not really. She just says that extremely tiredly, like it's a flip objection to what he said.]
But that was later. You're probably right, about the fighting. I was able to even the scales somewhat, except - [She sighs, a little pathetic, pained and rambling a little.] I have taken so much already, both what was offered and what was stolen. The scales can never be even. They never have been, from the day of my birth. It is so pointless to try to make it right.
[Well, uh? His grip tightens when she says that? Hello? What the hell? Don't just say you died so casually? That's the thing he's sensitive about? But he doesn't say anything else, except make a face.]
Then fuck it. Who cares about a perfect balance. So you've gotten some lucky turns, taken more than your fair share. Don't be ashamed about just fucking taking it if that's what you need. Just do what you can to try and give it back where you can. No one's adding it up at the end of it all, I can tell you that.
[She's. . . she's going to just start crying again. Sorry. Her breath is hitching even harder, in pained little gasps, because it's really just so much worse to cry on somebody twice. While they're carrying you like a baby. There's no recovering from that, really. But it's happening anyway.]
[oh god his streak of making mean lesbians burst into tears is so bad this game
there really is no recovering from that no, you are now his water bottle to try and take care of forever? you little baby? sweet little crybaby having a lot of feelings.
He's, uh, just trying to go faster to get to the medbay at least because he can tell this probably hurts like absolute hell.]
[She sniffles back tears, aware of her permanent sad little feelings baby status with him. It's disgusting, but it's less disgusting somehow because Mollymauk is just. . . the type of person who would never use your feelings as a cudgel against you. Harrowhark tends to think all people are that type of person, regularly mistakes kindness for condescension, but it's obvious with him. If she had to be a pathetic little goth baby at someone, at least it's him.]
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It's a vile feeling, but she has no control over it, now. He didn't leave when she tried to poison him away, so she's lost this fight already.]
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Eventually, she'll calm down a little, enough to feel embarrassed again, pushing him away by his chest, still kind of messily crying a little.]
. . . Not talk about it, I think. Some other time, perhaps.
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Some other time then.
[So, lets see. What else?]
Oh. I gave Wrath a tattoo?
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[She says skeptically, through hiccups.]
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[Lightly, like they're just talking about the weather.]
You want one? I have the needle and ink. Only red though.
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. . . Not in red.
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she doesnt even know if hes any good or not]
What color would you like? Easy enough to get.
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[Duh?]
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[yeah definitely should. He'll hold his arm up, the one with the snake in the field of flowers wrapped around it.]
You'll be wanting a full sleeve, correct?
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[. . . Speaking of.]
I think I ought to go to the med bay. It's only a question of how long I ought to try to heal. There are repercussions equal to the length of time one spends in there.
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Mm. Perhaps just enough so you can move around properly. Just in case.
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Alright. I'll help you up.
[Because this is a collaborative exercise, binch.]
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well she's tiny (even if she's holding a sword too), so, probably the best solution outside of finding a wheelchair is just picking her up and hoping she can tolerate it long enough to get to the medbay.]
. . . This is going to hurt. Sorry.
[scoop!!]
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I'm not a stranger to pain.
[She's lifted up, biting hard against the hiss of breath when she's moved, but - that's all. She's shaky, again, and just starts talking, the words fast and angry.]
It was pathetic how this happened. Pathetic. We had nearly succeeded in getting away from those - disgusting, monstrous things, and then I simply. Saw something I couldn't see, and fainted then and there, despite the peril it put the others in.
I tire of being an invalid. I tire of being a burden to others.
[Somehow he'll get the sense that none of this is whatever caused the emotion that had her sobbing; it comes from a different place, more okay to talk about.]
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You aren't an invalid - you walked on, what is this? Two broken legs all the way to your damn room? And you aren't a burden. Barely weigh anything. Whole point of having a group is you can lean on each other. [Fuck you, this is definitely a collaborative exercise?] I'm sure you either saved their arses from something earlier or you'll get them next fight that comes around. You fought something and survived, and that's all that matters right now.
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Actually, we all died.
[So. Not really. She just says that extremely tiredly, like it's a flip objection to what he said.]
But that was later. You're probably right, about the fighting. I was able to even the scales somewhat, except - [She sighs, a little pathetic, pained and rambling a little.] I have taken so much already, both what was offered and what was stolen. The scales can never be even. They never have been, from the day of my birth. It is so pointless to try to make it right.
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[Well, uh? His grip tightens when she says that? Hello? What the hell? Don't just say you died so casually? That's the thing he's sensitive about? But he doesn't say anything else, except make a face.]
Then fuck it. Who cares about a perfect balance. So you've gotten some lucky turns, taken more than your fair share. Don't be ashamed about just fucking taking it if that's what you need. Just do what you can to try and give it back where you can. No one's adding it up at the end of it all, I can tell you that.
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No. I don't want it. I don't want it.
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there really is no recovering from that no, you are now his water bottle to try and take care of forever? you little baby? sweet little crybaby having a lot of feelings.
He's, uh, just trying to go faster to get to the medbay at least because he can tell this probably hurts like absolute hell.]
Hey-- okay! Alright, alright. I'm sorry.
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[She sniffles back tears, aware of her permanent sad little feelings baby status with him. It's disgusting, but it's less disgusting somehow because Mollymauk is just. . . the type of person who would never use your feelings as a cudgel against you. Harrowhark tends to think all people are that type of person, regularly mistakes kindness for condescension, but it's obvious with him. If she had to be a pathetic little goth baby at someone, at least it's him.]
You haven't said anything wrong.
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