[catchall] Camille

[sixillusions]

This is one of my favorite shitposts

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[scrapdraught]

Any time.

[A beat. She looks down, clucking her tongue. The usual thrum of constant depression sits below her every mood. Right now it's got a layer of regret over it. Preemptive grief.]

...Or for the next oh, twelve to twenty four hours? Can't say "any time" when there's hardly time left.

[sixillusions]

[He doesn't comment on her emotions--he wouldn't have regardless, but they're also not anything he wouldn't expect, after everything they've been through.

He's quiet for a minute. Despite how standoffish he seems, he pays attention. And he remembers what he saw of her memories.]

...Are you going back?

[scrapdraught]

Probably.

[She scrubs at her hair.]

I don't know what I'm doing once I'm there, though. [Can't explain how her scars vanished, only to gain a new one sliced across her neck. Even if she switched to turtlenecks for the rest of her life, she'd have some explaining to do. Frank and Eileen were owed at least some version of the truth.] No one would believe a word I'd say. It's utterly mundane. No magic, no monsters.

What about you?