"You deserve the best things in this life," Athessa says, fetching up Derrica's hands in her own. Even if Derrica didn't mean herself, it bears insisting. And repeating, if ever she needed a reminder, because Athessa believes it with every fragmented piece of her heart. What's a little sadness if she can see Derrica happy? She could be happy for her, and maybe that'd be enough.
"Derrica, I—" Don't. Athessa stops herself from seeing that thought through, looking down at their hands, at the tattoos on Derrica's arms where she can see them. She'd like to trace those lines again, with her fingers or her lips. The one at the nape of her neck, too. Her back. The way she did before. But instead, she brushes her thumb over Derrica's knuckles and takes a deep breath.
"What would make you happy?" It's close enough to asking how to be a better friend. Athessa smiles, covering her feelings with it like a sheet over unused furniture.
The depth of those words is slightly overwhelming. Derrica would shift it away, redirect it. She looks down at their hands, waits a long, considering moment before speaking again.
"Athessa, I am happy," she promises, though she knows part of that question was what Athessa could do to make her happy and Derrica can't bear up under the responsibility of that. "I am here, I have met you, I have found someone I thought was lost to me forever. And we are doing something to make a difference and end a war. It is all enough for me, for now."
What comes afterwards will be it's own chapter, something to navigate once it finally comes to pass.
"The only thing you can do to make me happy is to be less sad," she finishes, squeezing their hands. That is not so simple. But Athessa's misery has it's own hold on her awareness. The question should really be the other way around, if Derrica didn't already know her own failings on that front.
Athessa lets out a breath. The idea of being happy feels out of reach right now, with Churneau so close and Derrica so far away despite their hands grasping each other's.
"I wish I could promise that for you," she says, and thinks back to her training session with Bastien, when he'd asked her if she was alright and her answer was more honest than either of them expected.
"All I can promise is that I'll try. And I am trying, but I... I dunno. It's like when you fall through ice into cold water and you forget how to breathe for a second, ya know? And then you can't get out of the water because there's nothing to hang onto and your limbs don't work right," she makes a face, because this analogy is getting away from her. What is she trying to say? "I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I don't understand myself most days, and it's not something I expect you to fix. But I'm working on it. Feeling so much all the time is just...overwhelming."
Maybe she wasn't meant to be just one person. Maybe she was meant to be something else and it didn't happen, leaving her with too many emotions to be contained in one slender frame.
Some of this is bigger than Derrica, bigger than what they have been to each other or could be to each other. Athessa unspooling this reminds Derrica of being in the infirmary, and someone uncovering a wound.
"Trying is enough."
Especially in this, in trying to repair all the hurts she's carrying. Derrica doesn't have any spells that can do such a thing. She squeezes Athessa's hands gently in her own, watching her face closely.
"And it's not just me helping you out of the water. I know there are so many people who love you," Derrica presses. "You can lean on us, when it's too much."
An offer shaded with the same tone of Athessa's letter, an offer to be present when things are too difficult. Maybe it would be easier for Athessa to accept than it had been for Derrica.
It isn't easier. Not now, when she's felt like a burden to so many, a disappointment to others, selfish and cowardly to herself.
There are so many people who love you. It's all she can do to keep from flinching at that, at her own immediate thought of: but not you. It's unfair, thinking like that, making so little of the love her friends give her, and making so much of what she can't have.
"It's hard. Accepting help," she admits, her grip on Derrica's hands loosening, but not retreating. Instead, she mirrors the way Derrica had traced the lines on her palm before, aimlessly and with less scrutiny. Athessa doesn't know how to read palms at all. What she sees instead is the signs of a life lived; calluses built up from wielding a staff or manning the rigging on a ship. How their hands fit together, which of them has longer fingers, whose hands are colder or warmer. Where she once kissed her wrist when Derrica pressed that palm to Athessa's cheek.
Why did she have to ruin everything by falling in love?
"Back at the bar, you said it felt like we were afraid to know each other." It should be the preamble to asking if that's still true, but she's stuck on how to phrase it. Are you afraid to know me isn't what she wants to ask. Are you afraid of letting me know you sounds too accusatory. Are you afraid to be known?
Surely Derrica can guess what the question is, and choose her own wording of it.
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"Derrica, I—" Don't. Athessa stops herself from seeing that thought through, looking down at their hands, at the tattoos on Derrica's arms where she can see them. She'd like to trace those lines again, with her fingers or her lips. The one at the nape of her neck, too. Her back. The way she did before. But instead, she brushes her thumb over Derrica's knuckles and takes a deep breath.
"What would make you happy?" It's close enough to asking how to be a better friend. Athessa smiles, covering her feelings with it like a sheet over unused furniture.
no subject
"Athessa, I am happy," she promises, though she knows part of that question was what Athessa could do to make her happy and Derrica can't bear up under the responsibility of that. "I am here, I have met you, I have found someone I thought was lost to me forever. And we are doing something to make a difference and end a war. It is all enough for me, for now."
What comes afterwards will be it's own chapter, something to navigate once it finally comes to pass.
"The only thing you can do to make me happy is to be less sad," she finishes, squeezing their hands. That is not so simple. But Athessa's misery has it's own hold on her awareness. The question should really be the other way around, if Derrica didn't already know her own failings on that front.
no subject
"I wish I could promise that for you," she says, and thinks back to her training session with Bastien, when he'd asked her if she was alright and her answer was more honest than either of them expected.
"All I can promise is that I'll try. And I am trying, but I... I dunno. It's like when you fall through ice into cold water and you forget how to breathe for a second, ya know? And then you can't get out of the water because there's nothing to hang onto and your limbs don't work right," she makes a face, because this analogy is getting away from her. What is she trying to say? "I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I don't understand myself most days, and it's not something I expect you to fix. But I'm working on it. Feeling so much all the time is just...overwhelming."
Maybe she wasn't meant to be just one person. Maybe she was meant to be something else and it didn't happen, leaving her with too many emotions to be contained in one slender frame.
no subject
"Trying is enough."
Especially in this, in trying to repair all the hurts she's carrying. Derrica doesn't have any spells that can do such a thing. She squeezes Athessa's hands gently in her own, watching her face closely.
"And it's not just me helping you out of the water. I know there are so many people who love you," Derrica presses. "You can lean on us, when it's too much."
An offer shaded with the same tone of Athessa's letter, an offer to be present when things are too difficult. Maybe it would be easier for Athessa to accept than it had been for Derrica.
no subject
There are so many people who love you. It's all she can do to keep from flinching at that, at her own immediate thought of: but not you. It's unfair, thinking like that, making so little of the love her friends give her, and making so much of what she can't have.
"It's hard. Accepting help," she admits, her grip on Derrica's hands loosening, but not retreating. Instead, she mirrors the way Derrica had traced the lines on her palm before, aimlessly and with less scrutiny. Athessa doesn't know how to read palms at all. What she sees instead is the signs of a life lived; calluses built up from wielding a staff or manning the rigging on a ship. How their hands fit together, which of them has longer fingers, whose hands are colder or warmer. Where she once kissed her wrist when Derrica pressed that palm to Athessa's cheek.
Why did she have to ruin everything by falling in love?
"Back at the bar, you said it felt like we were afraid to know each other." It should be the preamble to asking if that's still true, but she's stuck on how to phrase it. Are you afraid to know me isn't what she wants to ask. Are you afraid of letting me know you sounds too accusatory. Are you afraid to be known?
Surely Derrica can guess what the question is, and choose her own wording of it.