There's pressure between her eyes to start with, anyways, too insistent to put energy into denying. And then Venus' wings happen, and something about that catches Erika so off guard that her mind whirls without an anchor; there's a world out there and a world in here and it's hard to determine who or what exactly that makes her now, except skin over bones over faltering will.
She'd talked with Hinata about dividing productive wants from unproductive wants. She hadn't talked about the motivating factors - tossing out dreams doesn't become easier, but you have more strength to put into it, when the alternative is watching them fester and destroy the world. Wanting to escape when being wanted to recover is the mortar holding your life together. Wanting to live and having to die. Wanting against all logic to go to [that place] and [ALL THE EMPTY WORLD] complying with limbs like ribbons twisting colorlessness tearing tearing down everything that has ever mattered for hollow infinite dreamless hunger.
She wants this world to be safe. She wants to trust it, and doesn't have a choice, because crying happens of its own volition, shivering sniffling jagged-breathing (cathartic) misery.]
Sorry, [she whines into Venus' shoulder between seizing sniffs, arms pulling tighter around her.] 'M sorry, I'm, sorry. I just don't know. Just don't, d-don't know, what I'm doing anymore.
no subject
There's pressure between her eyes to start with, anyways, too insistent to put energy into denying. And then Venus' wings happen, and something about that catches Erika so off guard that her mind whirls without an anchor; there's a world out there and a world in here and it's hard to determine who or what exactly that makes her now, except skin over bones over faltering will.
She'd talked with Hinata about dividing productive wants from unproductive wants. She hadn't talked about the motivating factors - tossing out dreams doesn't become easier, but you have more strength to put into it, when the alternative is watching them fester and destroy the world. Wanting to escape when being wanted to recover is the mortar holding your life together. Wanting to live and having to die. Wanting against all logic to go to [that place] and [ALL THE EMPTY WORLD] complying with limbs like ribbons twisting colorlessness tearing tearing down everything that has ever mattered for hollow infinite dreamless hunger.
She wants this world to be safe. She wants to trust it, and doesn't have a choice, because crying happens of its own volition, shivering sniffling jagged-breathing (cathartic) misery.]
Sorry, [she whines into Venus' shoulder between seizing sniffs, arms pulling tighter around her.] 'M sorry, I'm, sorry. I just don't know. Just don't, d-don't know, what I'm doing anymore.