Video | Early Afternoon

[bodilesswarrior]

[Her eyes are red, and her voice is flat.]

Cassandra Cain is gone.

Does anyone feel like sparring? [She wants to hit someone. She wants to sweat and ache and bleed.]

[Private to David Cain]

Not you. [Her laugh is low and choked.] It's funny, isn't it, that I don't want to hurt you? [But she's not sure she could stop herself from going for his throat, right now.]

Comments

Private

[anewlanguage]

[The hell you don't. He almost says it. Thankfully, he's finding it hard to talk right now.

He's seen an awful lot of people get their limbs torn, severed, or blown off, and nearly all of them went through a weird, numb sort of denial about no longer having a leg or an arm. He recognizes that that's where he's at right now.]

How was she? Last time you saw her.

Private

[bodilesswarrior]

Quiet. [Her lips quirk in a ghost of humour.] Not...the way she used to be. [When she was a Warden, when she was alive.] Subdued. Melancholy.

[She takes a breath, slow and straggling.] I should have pushed harder.

Private

[anewlanguage]

You can't- [he grimaces when his voice threatens to break] If she wasn't ready, no force on earth or here could get her to do anything. You know that.

[He shifts in his seat and his sidearm presses against his hip and just like that, he can't stand to have the weapons on him, so he tears them off and shoves them across his desk]

She was happier last time, goddammit, what happened to her? Is she going back to that, is she going to just...?

Private

[bodilesswarrior]

I don't know. [Her voice is breaking.] Sometimes, Inmates go back and - live a little more of their lives. But I think - most of the time -

[She can't make herself say it. Her hands are shaking in her lap, nails clawing into her palms.]

Private

[anewlanguage]

[His mouth is dry and all he can taste is metal]

No. No. Not her. Not Cassandra.

[But obviously yes, even her, or she never would have been here as an Inmate]

Private

[bodilesswarrior]

She already died once. Did you know that? [Her voice is hoarse, and her eyes are burning.]

[text/private]

[routemistress]

it's obnoxious and unfair, to leave you alone through this because you're the one who didn't mess it up.

but i think i need to, i'm scared what he might do.

[text/private]

[bodilesswarrior]

[She responds in text, too, because she doesn't want to look hurt or irritated; that's not fair, either.]

No. You're right.

Part of me still wants to scream at him, you know, tell him he doesn't deserve to feel this way. [The way she does.] But I know he loves her. I know he hates what he did to her, that he gets it now.

But I can't stop thinking about the life she could have had.

[text/private]

[routemistress]

neither can he. and there's a lot we can change but our own past isn't one of those things.

choosing to live differently doesn't undo the damage: that's what eats at him.

love you

[text/private]

[bodilesswarrior]

i get it, i do.

love you, too. always. you - at times like this, you're

[She's not sure how to say it, and she knows she doesn't really need to.]

[text/private]

[routemistress]

not much bloody help to either of you, is what I am, but I'm here and I love you.

he's got that Ricki lad coming over to natter about weapons and dodgy adventures and drink all my booze, I'll come up if you're not busy breaking the gym equipment.

[text/private]

[bodilesswarrior]

not true. cassandra is my heart, but so are you. he's the same.

i'm alone right now. well - jonesy. [She may have cried into her fur a little.]

[americasdirtiest]

Like a fucking parade out of here, lately.

[bodilesswarrior]

Yeah. [She cracks something like a smile, thin and brittle.] How are you hand to hand?

[americasdirtiest]

What? No, that's not what I meant.

[Except he's been hitting things left and right, and he would love to have more things to hit. Just not her.]

I just meant-- Ian's gone, too, a lot of people have fucked off now.

[bodilesswarrior]

No, I know. Just figured it'd be a good distraction.

[A slight grimace.] I guess there just hadn't been enough hell this month. I'm sorry, Mickey.

[americasdirtiest]

I know. [The distraction, he means. If it hasn't exactly been helping, beating down every one of the demon parasites he can find, it's at least been putting time between himself and the sharp, bitter hurt that is losing Ian.

But even the has limits, he thinks, glancing away, then doubtfully back at the camera.]

You ever do that before?

[bodilesswarrior]

What, use gratuitous violence to cope with grief? [There's a wry, faintly bitter amusement in the words.]

[youwillgotohell]

[Oh. That is a blow she wish she had been better prepared to take. She closes her eyes before she turns on the camera, taking the moment to reel, to list, to feel adrift and conquer the urge to tear every flower crown she ever made apart.

She wishes, wishes there had been more time.]

Thank you.

[Her eyes are open when she replies, but her voice is soft, near to faint.]

[bodilesswarrior]

[Barbara manages something like a smile. She doesn't know Morgana well, but she knows Cassandra cared for her, and that's what really matters.]

Least I can do.

[The guilt is bare on her face, that this is all she can manage, all she can give her. Telling her friends that she's gone.]

[mistconduct]

Fuck me, not again.

[bodilesswarrior]

Right? [Her voice cracks, a little.]

Glad to hear your voice, at least. [There's a hint of humour there, but its drowned out by something deeper, something desperate.]

[mistconduct]

Yeah, hey. I'm still here, Barb.

She's okay. She'll be okay.

[bodilesswarrior]

[No. No, she won't.

She closes her eyes, for a moment, lets her fists clench.]

Are you in your room?

[mistconduct]

Yeah, where else?