[ Katalina is a beautiful disaster of a lady. And Vira's affection is crystal clear in the memory—excessively, destructively so.
Though now that they're back in reality, she looks... alarmed. A little afraid. ]
Ah... But I don't—who was that?
[ That was certainly her dream, a warning given to her by Luminiera in hopes of scaring her into better life choices, but pieces of it no longer make sense. The absolute breadth of her own emotion for this perceived stranger is overwhelming.
And despite how well she's kept herself together in this hell hole of an experience so far, her eyes are watering up again, going stiff like that might keep her from crying. ]
She. . . hasn't noticed at all, her own missing memory, because her thoughts are so jumbled and disorganized anyway. So she also has no idea what the fuck is going on, except that Vira clearly can't recall that woman she called her beloved, and it terrifies Harrow in some way she can't quite grasp at.
What would it be like, to experience that level of love and loss for a someone you can't recognize? Haha, can't relate!
Anyway, seeing Vira go stiff and teary eyed, she reacts - a little uncharacteristically. Harrow is so fanatical about others' boundaries, wanting to preserve her own. But something about the way Vira looks in this moment has struck her to her core, reminded her of all of the times she's woken up alone and filled with a raw and inexplicable pain, longed for tenderness and comfort that should have been unfamiliar to her; there was never anyone, was there, who had cared enough about her to provide it?
A little nervously, fearful of being shoved away the way she might do to someone who tried the same, she'll try to wrap her arms around Vira.]
[ Oh, she doesn't anticipate that. Harrow seems like someone who likes her space, even if her heart is more brazenly visible than she seems to think. So when she embraces her, Vira seizes briefly in surprise, equally uncertain of how to react.
Because has anyone ever held her like this? There's only a great emptiness of answer when she thinks on it—does she not remember, or has it simply never happened? Is losing the memory of a single person enough to leave her with so little? (Without Katalina—what even remains of her to cherish or comfort?)
Even if it was a dream, a vision of the past, her misery is real and Harrow's presence is real, unexpected and kind in a way that disarms her too thoroughly. She doesn't even think to be composed, or of how weak she seems when she breathes out a sob as she buries her face into Harrow's shoulder, holding onto her fiercely as she weeps and weeps. ]
[She understands that feeling so intimately - what it's like to long to be held, but to fear the weakness of needing it. She has never been on the other side of that dilemma, and finds to her surprise it is not one at all. She doesn't perceive any weakness on Vira's part, or feel any sense of superiority or advantage. She only recognizes the pain, and wants to know how to diminish it. She holds her back just as fiercely, as long as Vira will allow.]
[ It doesn't fully soothe her emotions, but having Harrow there blunts the worst of the impact—where ordinarily she'd likely just sob until she's wrung out all her feelings like a rag, eventually she settles into miserable, embarrassing sniffles and calms herself.
To share such a private moment with someone else... she should be more abashed, or maybe afraid. And maybe she is, a little, but there is some strange relief in it, too; she shifts and draws enough away so she's not crushing Harrow in her arms anymore. ]
I... [ What does someone say in the face of all this? She speaks softly, worn out but comforted. ] Thank you, Harrowhark. I'm all right.
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chevaleros) wrote2021-02-08 10:30 pm
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Though now that they're back in reality, she looks... alarmed. A little afraid. ]
Ah... But I don't—who was that?
[ That was certainly her dream, a warning given to her by Luminiera in hopes of scaring her into better life choices, but pieces of it no longer make sense. The absolute breadth of her own emotion for this perceived stranger is overwhelming.
And despite how well she's kept herself together in this hell hole of an experience so far, her eyes are watering up again, going stiff like that might keep her from crying. ]
What is happening here, Harrowhark?
no subject
She. . . hasn't noticed at all, her own missing memory, because her thoughts are so jumbled and disorganized anyway. So she also has no idea what the fuck is going on, except that Vira clearly can't recall that woman she called her beloved, and it terrifies Harrow in some way she can't quite grasp at.
What would it be like, to experience that level of love and loss for a someone you can't recognize? Haha, can't relate!
Anyway, seeing Vira go stiff and teary eyed, she reacts - a little uncharacteristically. Harrow is so fanatical about others' boundaries, wanting to preserve her own. But something about the way Vira looks in this moment has struck her to her core, reminded her of all of the times she's woken up alone and filled with a raw and inexplicable pain, longed for tenderness and comfort that should have been unfamiliar to her; there was never anyone, was there, who had cared enough about her to provide it?
A little nervously, fearful of being shoved away the way she might do to someone who tried the same, she'll try to wrap her arms around Vira.]
It was a dream. It was only a dream.
no subject
Because has anyone ever held her like this? There's only a great emptiness of answer when she thinks on it—does she not remember, or has it simply never happened? Is losing the memory of a single person enough to leave her with so little? (Without Katalina—what even remains of her to cherish or comfort?)
Even if it was a dream, a vision of the past, her misery is real and Harrow's presence is real, unexpected and kind in a way that disarms her too thoroughly. She doesn't even think to be composed, or of how weak she seems when she breathes out a sob as she buries her face into Harrow's shoulder, holding onto her fiercely as she weeps and weeps. ]
no subject
no subject
To share such a private moment with someone else... she should be more abashed, or maybe afraid. And maybe she is, a little, but there is some strange relief in it, too; she shifts and draws enough away so she's not crushing Harrow in her arms anymore. ]
I... [ What does someone say in the face of all this? She speaks softly, worn out but comforted. ] Thank you, Harrowhark. I'm all right.