We're teammates. But we're- [Hm. He pauses, because he's not actually sure if he still has the right to use this word. It comes out hesitantly.] -friends before that.
[At the very least, Escha is still someone too dear to him, and he's never expected anything in return for his freely-given affections.]
[NO THAT'S TERRIBLE ESCHA GET BACK HERE. Fortunately it may(???) become more clear soon enough. Maybe.]
...I'm sorry. [He shakes his head; there's some brief strain in his expression.] I understand, if you don't want to speak with me again after today. I can't give you anything that I wish I could.
[Answers, and also being a decent friend! Terrible!]
[He blinks, a little surprised, but - he'll reach back, after a second. He just rests his fingertips against hers, like he's afraid of taking more than he's owed in just this small action.
The emotions she gets - some are the same as before. He's ashamed, on the surface - that he's caused Escha so much trouble. That he's still causing her trouble. There's a feeling of inadequacy. The guilt is stronger, and the self-loathing is stronger, and there's no longer that steel-edged determination or panic that there had been before the trial started, though there's still a determination there. Just not as sharp. Flickers of bitter resentment burn somewhere deep down, more of an afterthought than anything at the forefront.
On a whole, the aching emptiness stands out more; he's exhausted to the bone, upset and adrift.]
[ God, imagine if any of this had happened when it wasn't emotion-share week.
Escha lets their fingertips rest against each other. From her end it's almost the same as before. A lot of anxiety and apprehension - nervousness and a suspicion that she's doing her best to stifle. Ebbing and flowing waves of guilt and frustration and hopelessness.
But on the surface of it all there's trust and determination, not new feelings, but rising back up to the surface after having sunk down. Around all of the despair there's a weak flicker of hope, and that's what she wants to show him.
... ]
If we are working towards that same goal... Then nothing you ask me is a bother. Nothing is too much.
[I WAS THINKING THAT EARLIER wow emotion share week has saved his ass.
--But that - little weak flicker of hope, there? That's a feeling he hasn't felt for himself in quite some time. He's quiet, basking in it for a moment, reveling in the spark of it amidst the crush of so much overwhelming loss and guilt and anxiety. It's so easy for him to get pulled below the waves of his resentment and despair, sometimes. The reminder is much needed.
When she speaks, she'll feel a pulse of gratitude, though the shame seems to increase some. He's always surrounded by people who do so much good, who he doesn't deserve at all.]
...I said it before, didn't I? That I don't know what I did to deserve you.
[Any of them, really. But he's put so much on Escha's shoulders, and she still held out her hand. His chest squeezes, fond and pained.]
[ There's a subdued pulse of that anger, pushed down and stifled like she's very practiced at this. Or - maybe it isn't even that. Maybe it's that she's not used to feeling angry, so much so that she doesn't know what to do with it, doesn't know how to let it take over. Feelings of resentment and bitterness haven't created a place for themselves inside her, so they aren't able to settle. ]
... But...
[ Maybe it's that no matter what other emotions she has, what overwhelms all of them is her desperation to be useful. To help someone, to protect instead of being protected. ]
... I still want to help you. I want to keep helping you.
Hah - everyone here should be, but you have the title to an extra share this week.
[A little, wry quirk of a smile follows. He hates that he's contributed to any of the negative feelings she's dealing with right now. Honestly, if he could go back in time, he'd have made a different decision on Friday. They'd put Escha through all of that for no reason, in the end. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and she'll feel that beat of self-directed repugnance.
But he's wrangling that mess away soon enough, as best he can. He's shown Escha what he can. No reason to overwhelm her.]
...Thank you. I - don't know how I'll ever be able to make up for what you've given me.
[ That's how he can make up for it. By not tricking her into something she'll regret later. And no matter how hard it is, if he's telling the truth, and this is for the right reasons - then she won't regret it. ]
[There's a flicker of concern, hesitation, uncertainty. But beneath it, the thread of determination that had been there before rises up stronger. He tries to catch some of the scraps of hope Escha had shown. At the very least, he won't give up here. Not like this, not with things like this.]
[ The despair has always been there, an undercurrent, but it ebbs forward like a wave. It's a helplessness and it drags up her desperation to be useful. Her insecurities and frustrations with herself. And a numbing, hollowing sort of loneliness. ]
Please, just... Don't keep me from helping just because things are difficult. Don't shut me out from being useful.
[A beat; he's quiet for a second, and then he moves so instead of resting his fingertips against hers, he's holding her hand. Just long enough to give it one gentle squeeze.]
I know it feels terrible when everything is happening around you and you feel useless.
[Haha!! BOY DOES HE. There's a surge of empathy, in response to that desperation. Understanding, even if it's the aching sort that he wouldn't ever wish on anyone.]
...I won't - do that to you. I won't shut you out or leave you on your own.
[He manages a smile, though it's a little more brittle than usual. After another second or two, he'll let his grip drop. She can move to take her hand away at any time, though he'll let her go first, rather than being the first to go as usual.]
When this is all over, I'll do everything I wish I could do now.
[ She keeps her hand up for a moment, not wanting to pull away the second he does. That would be rude? And might send a much worse message than she means. ]
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We're on the same team. It's only natural that I'd help you, isn't it?
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[At the very least, Escha is still someone too dear to him, and he's never expected anything in return for his freely-given affections.]
I've asked for enough.
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... Can I ask how you really got hurt? Or is that a question you can't answer?
Can I ask why you can't be honest?
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...I'm sorry. [He shakes his head; there's some brief strain in his expression.] I understand, if you don't want to speak with me again after today. I can't give you anything that I wish I could.
[Answers, and also being a decent friend! Terrible!]
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... Can I ask you if you think you're doing the right thing?
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He opens his mouth - closes it. Seems to consider something, and opens his mouth again. He appears to be picking his words carefully.]
--I want all of you to get out of here safely. Everyone here, on the other side, in Winter Wizard's cabin. To that end, I won't stop working.
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The emotions she gets - some are the same as before. He's ashamed, on the surface - that he's caused Escha so much trouble. That he's still causing her trouble. There's a feeling of inadequacy. The guilt is stronger, and the self-loathing is stronger, and there's no longer that steel-edged determination or panic that there had been before the trial started, though there's still a determination there. Just not as sharp. Flickers of bitter resentment burn somewhere deep down, more of an afterthought than anything at the forefront.
On a whole, the aching emptiness stands out more; he's exhausted to the bone, upset and adrift.]
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Escha lets their fingertips rest against each other. From her end it's almost the same as before. A lot of anxiety and apprehension - nervousness and a suspicion that she's doing her best to stifle. Ebbing and flowing waves of guilt and frustration and hopelessness.
But on the surface of it all there's trust and determination, not new feelings, but rising back up to the surface after having sunk down. Around all of the despair there's a weak flicker of hope, and that's what she wants to show him.
... ]
If we are working towards that same goal... Then nothing you ask me is a bother. Nothing is too much.
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--But that - little weak flicker of hope, there? That's a feeling he hasn't felt for himself in quite some time. He's quiet, basking in it for a moment, reveling in the spark of it amidst the crush of so much overwhelming loss and guilt and anxiety. It's so easy for him to get pulled below the waves of his resentment and despair, sometimes. The reminder is much needed.
When she speaks, she'll feel a pulse of gratitude, though the shame seems to increase some. He's always surrounded by people who do so much good, who he doesn't deserve at all.]
...I said it before, didn't I? That I don't know what I did to deserve you.
[Any of them, really. But he's put so much on Escha's shoulders, and she still held out her hand. His chest squeezes, fond and pained.]
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[ There's a subdued pulse of that anger, pushed down and stifled like she's very practiced at this. Or - maybe it isn't even that. Maybe it's that she's not used to feeling angry, so much so that she doesn't know what to do with it, doesn't know how to let it take over. Feelings of resentment and bitterness haven't created a place for themselves inside her, so they aren't able to settle. ]
... But...
[ Maybe it's that no matter what other emotions she has, what overwhelms all of them is her desperation to be useful. To help someone, to protect instead of being protected. ]
... I still want to help you. I want to keep helping you.
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[A little, wry quirk of a smile follows. He hates that he's contributed to any of the negative feelings she's dealing with right now. Honestly, if he could go back in time, he'd have made a different decision on Friday. They'd put Escha through all of that for no reason, in the end. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and she'll feel that beat of self-directed repugnance.
But he's wrangling that mess away soon enough, as best he can. He's shown Escha what he can. No reason to overwhelm her.]
...Thank you. I - don't know how I'll ever be able to make up for what you've given me.
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[ That's how he can make up for it. By not tricking her into something she'll regret later. And no matter how hard it is, if he's telling the truth, and this is for the right reasons - then she won't regret it. ]
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It's the least I owe you.
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[ The despair has always been there, an undercurrent, but it ebbs forward like a wave. It's a helplessness and it drags up her desperation to be useful. Her insecurities and frustrations with herself. And a numbing, hollowing sort of loneliness. ]
Please, just... Don't keep me from helping just because things are difficult. Don't shut me out from being useful.
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I know it feels terrible when everything is happening around you and you feel useless.
[Haha!! BOY DOES HE. There's a surge of empathy, in response to that desperation. Understanding, even if it's the aching sort that he wouldn't ever wish on anyone.]
...I won't - do that to you. I won't shut you out or leave you on your own.
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Okay.
[ She takes a deep breath. ]
... Okay.
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When this is all over, I'll do everything I wish I could do now.
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Okay. I'm holding you to that.
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Mm. I won't let you down.