[ When they found Jackie, Tai had pulled Shauna off the corpse. She had never liked it when Shauna held fast to her dead best friend. Lottie had always disagreed, and that was always such a chasm between the two of them. It's healthy to grieve. It's good to hold fast to whatever the wilderness gives you, even if your gift isn't really a gift at all.
Maybe that's why Lottie lets her traveling companion go. Lottie does not stop watching. It's one of the few things she's still good at.
The transformed body looks an awful lot like Jackie's, in fact. Frost rims delicate eyelashes. Those blue lips ought to be smiling.
The thing grins, as if on cue, and Lottie bows her head in return. Her companion's fist makes contact with its mouth. Maybe he does know something, after all. If the thing still wore Laura Lee's face, Lottie would have touched its mouth so gently. One finger, laid over its lips: I am here. Don't tell me to leave.
It leaves anyway. There's just the two of them. Lottie stands, walks around her now-sobbing companion, and kneels before him instead. She rests a hand on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb firmly into his compressed frame. Lottie won't tell him to stop, because there's no stopping this sort of thing, but she will sit with him. As many sobs as it takes. ]
I'm sorry.
[ Those words barely count as a comfort. But Lottie puts as much weight and empathy behind them as she's able. Her voice stays low and hushed, as if an echo of the rustling of the leaves. She is sorry. Sorry the thing couldn't stay, sorry that it had to die in the first place. ]
cw: corpse
Maybe that's why Lottie lets her traveling companion go. Lottie does not stop watching. It's one of the few things she's still good at.
The transformed body looks an awful lot like Jackie's, in fact. Frost rims delicate eyelashes. Those blue lips ought to be smiling.
The thing grins, as if on cue, and Lottie bows her head in return. Her companion's fist makes contact with its mouth. Maybe he does know something, after all. If the thing still wore Laura Lee's face, Lottie would have touched its mouth so gently. One finger, laid over its lips: I am here. Don't tell me to leave.
It leaves anyway. There's just the two of them. Lottie stands, walks around her now-sobbing companion, and kneels before him instead. She rests a hand on his shoulder, rubbing her thumb firmly into his compressed frame. Lottie won't tell him to stop, because there's no stopping this sort of thing, but she will sit with him. As many sobs as it takes. ]
I'm sorry.
[ Those words barely count as a comfort. But Lottie puts as much weight and empathy behind them as she's able. Her voice stays low and hushed, as if an echo of the rustling of the leaves. She is sorry. Sorry the thing couldn't stay, sorry that it had to die in the first place. ]
Who was he?