[i'm robbed of my SATURDAY PC so im gonna give you THIS instead i hate you so BAD
Lavi thinks of a way to mourn. It's hard-going, because he knows so many different ways to grieve, thousands of traditions sequestered in his head, but he can't seem to pick any. nothing seems... right. which is strange, because it doesn't really matter in the end. what he picks. how he mourns. he's not supposed to grieve at all. he hadn't with the others -- not really. simply memorized their passing and committed them to memory.
memory. his lips twist into a mirthless smile.]
...First Hill, now you. Maybe I shouldn't have given that crow your name, huh?
[lavi nona boot. why the hell did he curse these two people so bad. hopefully that means he's next!!!!!]
Wish I can say this somewhere else. Maybe at a place that actually meant something to you? Guess I could wait for the memorials, but...
[he lapses into silence because well. he's not a fan of memorials. and he doesn't know if he'll be sincere enough by then to express what he means.]
Sorry, Nona. I can't promise to look after the others. And I can't promise that I'll live. [...] But I can promise that I'll remember ya. Everything you've said and done, what you were like when I first met you, and the words you said at the end. Every part of you.
[it feels hollow a little. because he knows if their positions were reversed, then Nona would properly mourn for him. instead, all he can give her is this -- because he can't afford to give more. (can't afford to, and yet --) He looks up at the sky, letting the pressure of the moment build and build and build -- until it's gone, just more heartache whisked away onto yet another page. mourning, but chronicled. the only way he knows how, and the only way that means something to him. a little like a girl with rose-colored hair and a bright smile, and a keeper of so many promises.]
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i hate you so bad w1 sat
Lavi thinks of a way to mourn. It's hard-going, because he knows so many different ways to grieve, thousands of traditions sequestered in his head, but he can't seem to pick any. nothing seems... right. which is strange, because it doesn't really matter in the end. what he picks. how he mourns. he's not supposed to grieve at all. he hadn't with the others -- not really. simply memorized their passing and committed them to memory.
memory. his lips twist into a mirthless smile.]
...First Hill, now you. Maybe I shouldn't have given that crow your name, huh?
[lavi nona boot. why the hell did he curse these two people so bad. hopefully that means he's next!!!!!]
Wish I can say this somewhere else. Maybe at a place that actually meant something to you? Guess I could wait for the memorials, but...
[he lapses into silence because well. he's not a fan of memorials. and he doesn't know if he'll be sincere enough by then to express what he means.]
Sorry, Nona. I can't promise to look after the others. And I can't promise that I'll live. [...] But I can promise that I'll remember ya. Everything you've said and done, what you were like when I first met you, and the words you said at the end. Every part of you.
[it feels hollow a little. because he knows if their positions were reversed, then Nona would properly mourn for him. instead, all he can give her is this -- because he can't afford to give more. (can't afford to, and yet --) He looks up at the sky, letting the pressure of the moment build and build and build -- until it's gone, just more heartache whisked away onto yet another page. mourning, but chronicled. the only way he knows how, and the only way that means something to him. a little like a girl with rose-colored hair and a bright smile, and a keeper of so many promises.]