[ she doesn't quite flinch when Sharon curses at her, but she does shut her eyes. she deserves it, every word.
she's never had a friend she could even hurt, before. her guts are twisted up in knots, anxiety pressing on her lungs making it harder to breathe. there is gentle misgiving, if not exactly regret, and a great deal of contrition in response to Sharon's ache.
there won't be any easy way to make this better, but Lortel won't hide her feelings from Sharon. not now. she deserves the whole and complete truth, including her mixed emotions. they're no excuse, of course, but...
it would feel so much worse to lie and try to pretend she felt completely at peace with this decision.
but when she stands Lortel makes a soft sound of alarm, brow furrowing high and tight. one hand lifts in a warding motion. ]
I'm fine. I'm okay, really. What she asked of me in return was ...
[ her gaze cuts to one side; she's frowning. ]
She wants a blood sacrifice. Every two weeks, synced to the cycle of the moon. It can be anyone's blood, including that of a Host. It just has to be blood. With it, I have to paint symbols she showed me on that which I wish to protect...
[ ... ]
I tried, but I couldn't get a straight answer on exactly what painting those symbols would do. For her, I mean. What she gets out of it. I can only presume greater power...
[ another beat. she's biting the corner of her lip, hard. ]
I've no right to ask a thing of you right now, but ... talk to Megumi. He has a plan. And I can't know about it. Not a single thing.
[ she lifts her gaze to meet Sharon's, ill and pale but resolute. ]
I know I can't take back what I've done, but we won't let her have what she wants so easily, either.
[ There's no ignoring Lortel's emotions, and that makes this so much harder to swallow. It's one thing to watch someone play a part; it's another to feel that they mean every word. Something sits on the tip of her tongue, not quite regret, but close enough to taste. A fog begins to creep across the floor, soft white tendrils swallowing the stained carpeting as her abilities react instinctively to her emotions.
Every word makes it worse. Sharon sets the teacup in a planter by the window, afraid she might drop it—or throw it. She can't hate Lortel for this; she doubts she could ever hate Lortel for anything. But that doesn't stop it from hurting. ] A fucking blood sacrifice, Jesus. [ She grimaces as she processes. Not horrified. Just unsettled. Her arms fold tightly across her chest. And Sleep couldn't even give Lortel an answer, couldn't tell her why she'd be doing it or what she stood to gain. Still, Sharon draws in a breath and forces herself to keep listening. ]
A plan—That's... [ The words die beneath an exhale. Lortel already knows she'll agree. Sharon holds the girl's gaze, blue eyes gone hard and black. ] I'll talk to him, but... [ Her voice drops, hauntingly layered, as if more than one of her were speaking, and heavy. ] You can't do this again, Lortel. [ The warning falls from her lips like a threat. Can't sounds a whole lot like Better Not. ]
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no subject
she's never had a friend she could even hurt, before. her guts are twisted up in knots, anxiety pressing on her lungs making it harder to breathe. there is gentle misgiving, if not exactly regret, and a great deal of contrition in response to Sharon's ache.
there won't be any easy way to make this better, but Lortel won't hide her feelings from Sharon. not now. she deserves the whole and complete truth, including her mixed emotions. they're no excuse, of course, but...
it would feel so much worse to lie and try to pretend she felt completely at peace with this decision.
but when she stands Lortel makes a soft sound of alarm, brow furrowing high and tight. one hand lifts in a warding motion. ]
I'm fine. I'm okay, really. What she asked of me in return was ...
[ her gaze cuts to one side; she's frowning. ]
She wants a blood sacrifice. Every two weeks, synced to the cycle of the moon. It can be anyone's blood, including that of a Host. It just has to be blood. With it, I have to paint symbols she showed me on that which I wish to protect...
[ ... ]
I tried, but I couldn't get a straight answer on exactly what painting those symbols would do. For her, I mean. What she gets out of it. I can only presume greater power...
[ another beat. she's biting the corner of her lip, hard. ]
I've no right to ask a thing of you right now, but ... talk to Megumi. He has a plan. And I can't know about it. Not a single thing.
[ she lifts her gaze to meet Sharon's, ill and pale but resolute. ]
I know I can't take back what I've done, but we won't let her have what she wants so easily, either.
no subject
Every word makes it worse. Sharon sets the teacup in a planter by the window, afraid she might drop it—or throw it. She can't hate Lortel for this; she doubts she could ever hate Lortel for anything. But that doesn't stop it from hurting. ] A fucking blood sacrifice, Jesus. [ She grimaces as she processes. Not horrified. Just unsettled. Her arms fold tightly across her chest. And Sleep couldn't even give Lortel an answer, couldn't tell her why she'd be doing it or what she stood to gain. Still, Sharon draws in a breath and forces herself to keep listening. ]
A plan—That's... [ The words die beneath an exhale. Lortel already knows she'll agree. Sharon holds the girl's gaze, blue eyes gone hard and black. ] I'll talk to him, but... [ Her voice drops, hauntingly layered, as if more than one of her were speaking, and heavy. ] You can't do this again, Lortel. [ The warning falls from her lips like a threat. Can't sounds a whole lot like Better Not. ]