[ It's a new week, with some new rooms to vandalize and explore, but Vira takes some time to return to their room and refresh all the same. she's sitting with a book that she's managed to scrounge up, luminiera floating peaceably behind her.
she seems focused, but when harrow drops in, she greets her with a mellow smile. ]
Welcome back. Taking a break from all the madness?
[ She laughs a bit, because—yeah. The book is boring, and easy to put down in favor of looking to Harrow, expression sobering some. Her tattoo glows faintly against her hand; they have a name and a face to their symbol, now. ]
I thought so as well, but my talk with Despair was illuminating.
[It feels somehow. . . a little more vulnerable, to talk to someone about her sin of despair than to talk of other sins. And uncomfortable, knowing Vira must also feel these things. It's easier not to acknowledge that darkness in easy conversation with a near stranger.]
There have been times I believe I have indulged in despair, and times I have choosen not to. I've chosen to put painful things in the past, to attempt to improve my circumstances rather than to dwell. I believe now, I am called instead to face those painful things head on.
[ Most of them haven't known each other very long, but if they don't want to fall behind, they have to start 'indulging' immediately. It isn't a topic they can shy away from.
And perhaps unlike some of the others—she has spotted a number of them who were upset or confused—Vira understands why she was assigned this. Harrow seems the same. She looks thoughtful. ]
[She isn't surprised at all - but that doesn't mean it isn't difficult.]
I fear disappearing into something I cannot control and have no means to escape. But I've decided to do what it takes to complete this challenge, so whether or not I'm frightened by it is irrelevant.
Well said—regardless of how unpleasant it may be, we all have something important to strive for. Something worth embracing misery for.
[ Strange that they'd get something that makes them feel worse than better, but in the end, this may be the most open-ended sin to indulge. That could be a boon in itself. ]
I would be happy to help you as you need, though I feel that what brings each of us sadness is very personal.
[While submerging in despair doesn't sound great, maybe something good can come from it.]
I . . . have never liked sharing what is personal with others, but that preference is likely to be tested. If it is helpful to you, I spent some time today using the simulation room to conjure a vision that reminded me of. . . someone very dear to me, who is painful for me to look upon.
Can't it be painful, too? Or maybe I'm mistaken, calling it love.
[It's fine. They're talking vaguely. And they're both despairzos, so it's fine.]
. . . The first time I laid eyes on her was when I was a child, on the day I had decided to die. But when I beheld her, I felt something more powerful than any feeling I had ever known, and I wanted to live.
Since then, I have been unable to stop thinking of her, dreaming of her. But. . . because of who she is, it is both impossible and blasphemous, and the revelation has only caused pain to those who care for me.
That. . . is a tale I would prefer not to recount.
[At least not yet.]
It was when I was a child. Suffice to say, as the heir to my House, I grew up with a great many expectations on my shoulders. I didn't always know how to live with them.
[ She considers for a moment; Luminiera seems to float near her by instinct, immediately snuggling into her arms. ]
I've spent the better part of the last six years waiting for someone. Someone I adored more than the world itself, and who I longed for more than the sun each morning.
[ She's not sure it's something she should share openly—best to keep her heart closed in a place like this—but considering the conversation thus far, she thinks Harrow would at least understand. ]
Sufficed to say, I think both of us know what despair feels like.
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