[ It's brief, the thought she entertains, to tell her. That she's tired. She's so tired of trying and coming up empty handed. She's so tired of feeling useless when she tries so hard in finding a place for herself. Tired of not being needed, of wanting to give up, of not giving up, of holding back, of biting her tongue, of not-- not being able to fight against it. Having to curb with every fiber of her being the need to speak, to do the right thing. To bury it and to pick it back up in the hardest of times.
Wants to tell her for a second, that she's so tired because the Black Box is so suffocating that she can't shake the feeling that what happens there might just happen one day and she won't know what to do then. And that she doesn't want to feel her friends not needing her all the time. It's selfish, maybe, that sense of acknowledgement she craves. Misses it. She was good at what she did, once. Little rebel. Right arm of the resistance.
Reduced to this. Better people around her. Smarter, faster, braver. More than she will ever amount to.
All that, and all that Parker does is to keep walking. Tight voice. ]
I was just bored. [ She raises a hand, all casual. Tone soft and light. ] I'll see you later.
[Distance spinning out: her standing at the center of the half pipe, Parker ranging out farther and farther - off the wood and on to the concrete of the skate park. She could call out to her, insist on some version of honesty (because 'just bored' is, she's sure, not the truth or not all of it).
Instead the line between them spools out and out and out like a life support cable. Like going for a space walk on the hull of a ship and getting bounced off, but sure the line will catch. There are systems in place for that kind of thing. Safety nets.
Not here though. Here Shepard watches her go, the itch to say something trapped in her mouth. Here she keeps her jaw clamped shut around that urge. Here she lets Parker walk away from her.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Wants to tell her for a second, that she's so tired because the Black Box is so suffocating that she can't shake the feeling that what happens there might just happen one day and she won't know what to do then. And that she doesn't want to feel her friends not needing her all the time. It's selfish, maybe, that sense of acknowledgement she craves. Misses it. She was good at what she did, once. Little rebel. Right arm of the resistance.
Reduced to this. Better people around her. Smarter, faster, braver. More than she will ever amount to.
All that, and all that Parker does is to keep walking. Tight voice. ]
I was just bored. [ She raises a hand, all casual. Tone soft and light. ] I'll see you later.
no subject
Instead the line between them spools out and out and out like a life support cable. Like going for a space walk on the hull of a ship and getting bounced off, but sure the line will catch. There are systems in place for that kind of thing. Safety nets.
Not here though. Here Shepard watches her go, the itch to say something trapped in her mouth. Here she keeps her jaw clamped shut around that urge. Here she lets Parker walk away from her.]