[And she had a clean streak prior to that too. Then again considering the year in question, she can't say she blames herself for the slip. Extreme measures for extreme times.]
They seem to. There's far worse than mine up there for sure. [Hers even reads a little sparse, but hey. That's what happens when you cultivate no skills or hobbies. Her life was an exercise in scraping by.
Then a sudden glow catches her eye. Camille looks down with a soundless gasp.]
Oh — sorry, looks like it's got you too.
[She points. Can't let him wander around unawares.]
[She pulls her sleeves to the middle of her palms and folds over a little, stretching her legs. His own words weren't giving much up. That's tugging her curiosity something fierce, but she can imagine the implications.
One by one deaths, one by one abductions. Dollars drained, assaults both sexual and not. Can't be anything good.]
[ He does feel a little guilty, because they're strangers and he's being intrusive. And he really has no reason to ask except to satisfy his own curiosity, and her hardships shouldn't be a fun story for him to hear.
But she'd said it was alright, and if she didn't want to answer, it's not like he would press. ]
What made you decide to change your circumstances?
Camille clucks her tongue, thinking how to phrase it without popping open a can of worms.]
I uh. I really had no choice but to. [Her nose twitches, her lips twist.] I got a lot of answers about things to do with my family. Things that made it hard when I was younger. Stuff that was going at the time, too. And I had to cut them out of my life for good.
[She looks to him, raw, reticent. Weary.]
You can't always pick your family. They can't pick you either.
[ He nods... Family is difficult. His parents had been normal, and likely no where near as terrible as hers, but he knows what it's like to be disappointed by them.
Well, he knows what it's like to be disappointed. ]
I can hate them in parts. Mama, close to whole. Her husband Alan is such a limp rag of a man, he's too pathetic to take much heat from me. I sometimes forget he was family at all.
Amma, I can't. Not in any big way. Just slivers. [She pauses.] She's my little sister. She's only fourteen now. Even after everything, I can't fully...I can't pin much on her.
[She plucks at the seams of her sweater. Lets her hair fall forward, obscuring her expression.]
And an a strange way, sometimes I still hope they love me. No matter what I think of them. Even if I know they won't.
[Are they really family? They're playing at it, in spite of her advanced years. She's using them as a crutch, a pound of cement to fill a mile-deep cave in. It's helping, yes, but the years she needed the attention for are long past her.]
...I hope you're not speaking from experience.
[She doesn't say thanks. The shame is clouding over. Laying all her woes on this kid. She knows his name and little else about him. Profile scraps, hand-to-hand combat, curses, bringing a "worm" from home. Nothing that warrants her shoveling bullshit on his head.]
Oh, no. My parents are pretty normal. [ Hm. He's pretty reticent, but... ] But it's hard when you're in a shitty situation, to have the drive to get out of it. Especially if you're alone.
[She nods, lips pulling in. Camille takes a chance and rests her palm at his shoulder. Her experience with teenage boys comes from a thin scope of being a teenager herself. She can't read them so well any more.]
There's no getting away from it when you're in the line of fire.
[ He's not really used to the gesture. He's not used to adults—or anyone—thinking that their lives are anything to mourn. They do what they have to, and if they die, then they died doing what was right.
That's all.
But he doesn't flinch away, looking at her. ]
Probably once I'm dead. [ ... ] Which isn't as bad as it sounds. Some sorcerers do make it to old age.
[Piss poor joke for a hopeless situation. There's not much she can say to the contrary though, and that's what guts her. The only tools she has to tinker with are forged by her own miseries. She knows what it is to feel there's no peace, to drift down miles of tepid tragedies until you hit the dropoff and plummet.
She doesn't know how to get off that road, really. She's doing better, but there's no such thing as being fixed. Not her brain, and not his circumstances.
Camille sighs. She could use a drink.]
You got dealt a rotten hand. I'm sorry. No one should have to bear that kind of weight. Much less a guy straight out of high school.
[That's even worse. Not like a graduation cap grants you enlightenment, but still. It's a ballpark marker for leaving childhood behind, and he hasn't even hit it yet.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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But his expression softens, and he looks away from her toward the fire. ]
You made yourself a family. [ ... ] A year is pretty recent, though.
[ Slowly, words start to appear over the black of his uniform in ghostly white, ONE BY ONE. ]
But yeah, the profiles are pretty callous. Most people probably get that it's not entirely accurate.
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[And she had a clean streak prior to that too. Then again considering the year in question, she can't say she blames herself for the slip. Extreme measures for extreme times.]
They seem to. There's far worse than mine up there for sure. [Hers even reads a little sparse, but hey. That's what happens when you cultivate no skills or hobbies. Her life was an exercise in scraping by.
Then a sudden glow catches her eye. Camille looks down with a soundless gasp.]
Oh — sorry, looks like it's got you too.
[She points. Can't let him wander around unawares.]
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... Thanks.
[ ... ]
Is it okay to ask a little more about you?
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[She pulls her sleeves to the middle of her palms and folds over a little, stretching her legs. His own words weren't giving much up. That's tugging her curiosity something fierce, but she can imagine the implications.
One by one deaths, one by one abductions. Dollars drained, assaults both sexual and not. Can't be anything good.]
What do you want to know?
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But she'd said it was alright, and if she didn't want to answer, it's not like he would press. ]
What made you decide to change your circumstances?
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[Hm.
Camille clucks her tongue, thinking how to phrase it without popping open a can of worms.]
I uh. I really had no choice but to. [Her nose twitches, her lips twist.] I got a lot of answers about things to do with my family. Things that made it hard when I was younger. Stuff that was going at the time, too. And I had to cut them out of my life for good.
[She looks to him, raw, reticent. Weary.]
You can't always pick your family. They can't pick you either.
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Well, he knows what it's like to be disappointed. ]
Do you hate them?
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I can hate them in parts. Mama, close to whole. Her husband Alan is such a limp rag of a man, he's too pathetic to take much heat from me. I sometimes forget he was family at all.
Amma, I can't. Not in any big way. Just slivers. [She pauses.] She's my little sister. She's only fourteen now. Even after everything, I can't fully...I can't pin much on her.
[She plucks at the seams of her sweater. Lets her hair fall forward, obscuring her expression.]
And an a strange way, sometimes I still hope they love me. No matter what I think of them. Even if I know they won't.
[Not her parents at least.]
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[ He rubs a hand over his eyes, a little regretful that he kept prying when he didn't have anything helpful to share. ]
It's tough being betrayed by your family. It's a good thing that you have a better one now.
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...I hope you're not speaking from experience.
[She doesn't say thanks. The shame is clouding over. Laying all her woes on this kid. She knows his name and little else about him. Profile scraps, hand-to-hand combat, curses, bringing a "worm" from home. Nothing that warrants her shoveling bullshit on his head.]
Don't worry about it.
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Oh, no. My parents are pretty normal. [ Hm. He's pretty reticent, but... ] But it's hard when you're in a shitty situation, to have the drive to get out of it. Especially if you're alone.
So I was curious how you did it.
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Everyone's going to get knee deep in it at some point. Most of us will find our way out.
[There's a beat.]
I can't imagine it's all peaches and cream on your end either, given what you're dealing with.
[She hasn't forgotten his own ink, too.]
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... A lot of people I know have died lately. Sometimes it feels like soon, no one will be left.
[ He shrugs, looking back at the water. ]
But I don't know how to change anything either.
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His age gnaws at her too. What's the count at now, that he's calling it a serial and not a few raw deals?]
...Is it related to your curse stuff? Or incidental?
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[ Closes his eyes. ]
But they'll kill people if we don't, so there's no choice.
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[She nods, lips pulling in. Camille takes a chance and rests her palm at his shoulder. Her experience with teenage boys comes from a thin scope of being a teenager herself. She can't read them so well any more.]
There's no getting away from it when you're in the line of fire.
[She holds a moment.]
Do you think there'll be an end to it?
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That's all.
But he doesn't flinch away, looking at her. ]
Probably once I'm dead. [ ... ] Which isn't as bad as it sounds. Some sorcerers do make it to old age.
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[Piss poor joke for a hopeless situation. There's not much she can say to the contrary though, and that's what guts her. The only tools she has to tinker with are forged by her own miseries. She knows what it is to feel there's no peace, to drift down miles of tepid tragedies until you hit the dropoff and plummet.
She doesn't know how to get off that road, really. She's doing better, but there's no such thing as being fixed. Not her brain, and not his circumstances.
Camille sighs. She could use a drink.]
You got dealt a rotten hand. I'm sorry. No one should have to bear that kind of weight. Much less a guy straight out of high school.
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Actually, I'm not done high school.
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...Geto...
[That's even worse. Not like a graduation cap grants you enlightenment, but still. It's a ballpark marker for leaving childhood behind, and he hasn't even hit it yet.]
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I was making a joke—well, it's true—but it was supposed to be funny. [ a ] High school in Japan is one year longer than America, if that helps.