[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.]
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no subject
...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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
... 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?
no subject
[ Closes his eyes. ]
But they'll kill people if we don't, so there's no choice.
no subject
[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?
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
...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.