divinity says "destiny can't be earned"

[castitas]

Who: Kate Marsh + You!
What: Kate returns to Milton from her seaside getaway to Silverpoint. Beargate happens.
When: Early June.
Where: Milton Outskirts/Wilds; Milton, various.

Content Warnings: animal death; bear attacks; supernatural ailments; mental manipulation; altered physiological states.

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[castitas]

[ One time does not a habit make. And she has no intentions of being a repeat customer: she's already disgusted with herself. ]

Sure. Thanks. [ Monotone of exhaustion and daze, and she's turning to go and retrieve it — heaving it back onto her shoulders and moving to retrieve the spent flare gun from near the bear. The flare gun feels heavy in her hand.

She can't look at it, the gore of an extinguished flare in the eye socket.

None of this feels— real, right now.

She killed bear with some lucky shot with a flare gun and then whaled on Tim. She's tired, and sad and confused. The colours around her grow dim and faint: pale purples darkening into greys, even the rose-gold grows darker. Tim is soft and blue, and she doesn't know why.

Kate just looks wounded. ]

I don't— [ She inhales, awkward. She doesn't want to be a jerk to the wolf-dog, or Tim for that matter. But she doesn't know if Tim should be around her right now, like he should— he should stay away from her right now, with this.

As if she could be a jerk to anyone. ]

Does she know how to find you if she comes with?

[ployboy]

[He watches. He watches her gait and her arms, eyes narrow to see better through the glare of the snow. She must be exhausted. But she isn't doing too poorly.

She must be exhausted. And hurt. But she was exhausted and hurt when she had left. So she's none the worse for wear, in a place where survival wasn't the bare minimum but the very coveted ambition of precious many. (Yes, Tim knows that's bullshit. Sometimes the truth is bullshit. And all they can do is accept it because making sense of everything that doesn't, is never gonna end well.)

Kate isn't glowing black anymore. That means she's doing better. --right? Curt, Tim decides for them both that,] It's fine.

[He'd whistle to call for Laelaps. But that would mean fighting a fat lip on top of everything else and keeping Kate out here battling subzero for the important reason of... arranging a puppy playdate.

Get it together, Drake.]

We're staying in Milton anyway. On th'outskirts. [He'd said they'd talk later. And, again, what someone wants and what happens can be so different that it hurts to-- Tim glows black for a blink, just around the edges. It's like rot. He thinks he's dying.]

I'm glad you're okay.

[Tim eyes the line of trees ahead. Needs the lame shade of frozen trees to collapse under before those faint tremors of his drop him and... he watches the flare gun in Kate's cold hands and he pockets his hands (he wants to reach for her), and he starts forward. Someone needs to move, needs to break the standstill and the festering heartache. Laelaps barks, then follows.]

Do you mind'f we walk with you? [Mumbling to the heartache, Tim recites, low, soft-] No wrong answers. Remember?

[castitas]

Is it?

[ She was a little better. Silverpoint had been good for her: time to get away from everything, something new to focus on. The journey had been difficult, but it was still something to put her focus on. And then in Silverpoint— a whole community filled with people just trying to make it through the next day. A change of scenery. And even if there was time to dwell, it was enough space to get through it.

And now? Now she's not sure, and she doesn't know what exactly went wrong.

She's tired and hurt, but the anger's all gone out of her — like a candle's been snuffed out within her.

He's not in Lakeside any more, and that makes her head turn. A strange, delighted flutter that he's close by mingling with the tiredness and the upset with him. The colours around her betray that — the tiniest glimmer of brighter rose-gold that's more warm than faded out.

Kate turns sharply back, realising, a sting of red frustration. She's a mess of colours, and no one can hardly blame her. She nods stiffly. Yeah, she's okay. Mostly.

Tim's already starting to move. No wrong answers, but no straight-forward answer, either. Kate stares at him for a few long beats. It's not an answer, really. But maybe that counts under 'no wrong answers', too. ]

... I missed you.

[ployboy]

[What happened and why it happened seem to be suddenly in the rearview mirror. Nobody ever accused Tim of being staggeringly emotionally intelligent. Is it fine? The question may as well have been, is it cold outside?] Yeah.

[Because it has to be. Because finally, they're doing something that goes beyond standing frozen and uncertain.

About the colors, the kaleidoscopes, the nauseating displays of parts of themselves they never consented to show: after a month, the auras seem as lively as ever if they've survived on their person this long. But a person's sight gets used to what's always in front of them. They can learn to ignore the displays and now it seems Tim's made his choice. The last thing he's aware of is red.

Maybe because he had to wipe at his mouth again with the back of his glove.

She missed him. For an indignant moment Tim figures, if this is how she shows it-- but that's not fair in a world where everyone is a plaything.] I didn't know you had left until you called that you were already on the way.

[castitas]

[ It's not that she doesn't believe him. It's just that she doesn't understand how it can be just that: fine. As if it never happened, as if it's being glazed over, shoved under the rug. Kate's practically wilting under it all, the colours muted and dizzying as they shift.

Tim's wiping at his mouth, and Kate's cringing — the colours around her like a mark of shame.

But she swallows, she keeps walking: one uneasy foot in front of the other. She walks as if she isn't sure where the ground is, breathing hard and she keeps her head down. She doesn't feel good, in the varied iterations of the meaning of that. ]

Yeah. [ Her voice thick and hoarse. A lame answer. ] I never saw you, so— I don't know.

[ And also she was mad at him and she didn't want to see him, and he didn't even come see her to say sorry. ]

I didn't want to be here, in Milton. And people were heading to see what the coast was like, so— I figured it seemed like a good idea.