deshabille_maladicta | (no subject)

This was the worst feeling in the world. Maladicta had suffered going Cold Bat, twice, had seen one extremely unpleasant and one viciously frightening war (simultaneously) and, since her arrival on the island, come up against a myriad of generally uncomfortable and sometimes frightening experiences, mostly different versions of being sick or wounded that had never been a possibility before. This was the worst feeling so far.

She had her pack over her shoulder and her gaze on the ground, though she wasn't especially seeing it. She was wound up, too many thoughts going around her head for her to be much of anything but distracted, and anyway her vision was blurry. She couldn't hold on to any one thought long enough to look at it or grapple with it. They all just crammed together and shifted around.

The compound was her destination, and if she hadn't decided that before taking off to stride brusquely into the night she couldn't fathom where she'd have ended up. The night didn't used to be a problem for her. On the contrary, it had always been a boon, a relief, especially after wearing the Ribbon. Now she was almost as blind in it as anyone though, again, the tears didn't help.

She just needed someplace to curl up, and she could deal with it all in the morning. She was sure. She had to be, or else everything would simply fall apart, even more than it already had.

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Sacharissa reached out a hand to her, beckoning. "Come over here," she said quietly. "Come on. It's alright now. It's alright to be angry. He deserved it."

Maladicta blinked, a little, then went to sit beside her friend, swallowing down the thick feeling that still sat in her throat, absently squeezing Sacharissa's hand as she did.

"I know. I know he did. Somehow it doesn't make it easier. Which is unfair: it should."

Sacharissa nodded, lowering her head. "I know," she said softly. "It ought to - and sometimes it does, for a little bit. But mostly it just hurts, fighting." She returned the squeeze, hand gentle, and bit her lip. "I know it will be alright soon. He'll come to his senses. He... loves you. Too much not to."

"Yes," Maladicta agreed. "It mostly just hurts." She blinked a little and swallowed, then looked over at Sacharissa, steadily. She squeezes her hand again.

"You know, you're my dearest friend," she said. Coming from someone else's mouth- say, Jane's- it would have been significantly more sentimental. From Maladicta, it was a simple statement of fact.

"And not just because Polly's gone," she added, voice almost cutting out, certainly dropping to a sort of whisper. "I know you said to stop, but- thank you."

How badly she wanted to say something... but there was too much on Maladicta now, and while it might have been easy - relatively easy, at least, which was still very hard indeed - to lean over and kiss her, to tell her she loved her, always would - she didn't need the extra burden. It would have been cruel, Sacharissa thought, so she bit her lip - literally - and nodded.

"There is no one," she said slowly, softly, "so dear to me as you. William... is my best friend. But I... I do not think --" Swallowing hard, she cut herself off. "It's what friends do. I couldn't be anything but here for you. Now get some rest."

Maladicta nodded a little.

"Yes," she said, "that... rest would be good." She offered Sacharissa a wan sort of smile, scooting easily back onto the bed.

Biting her lip, Sacharissa laid down, curling in close on herself. "I ought to sleep as well," she said, knowing already that the excitement of the day and the proximity wasn't going to be making that any easier. But the next day was bound to be interesting; when she saw William, he would find out just how interesting, too. "Sweet dreams."

"Good night, Sacharissa," Maladicta murmured, body twisted so her lower half was on its side but her back was flush with the bed. She stared at the ceiling for a while before she let her eyes close and her breath even out.

"Goodnight." Curled with ber back to Maladicta, Sacharissa let her hands dangle over the edge of the bed, clutching at empty air. She was all too aware of Maladicta there beside her, couldn't get comfortable in her own bed, in her own skin. Biting her lip lightly, she made herself close her eyes and lie still, like she was six years old again and if she just did that, she'd fall asleep.