crushed_pearls: (Default)
[personal profile] crushed_pearls
Erin's voice mail message is in a weary voice: "Erin Peters. If you called in the middle of the night and I didn't answer, I'm dying. If I pick up and someone on your end isn't dying, they will be shortly. Text otherwise."
decrypter: (strive.)
From: [personal profile] decrypter
"...calling my blindness an affliction. Asking me if a cure wouldn't empower me."

They had brushed by this, gently, when Erin had made her offer of the dream doll. It was different there - Erin was offering an experience, and with the full knowledge of who she was. The uncertainty, the doubts, they were all listened to.

The difference here is someone who doesn't. Speaking like she needs a cure. Like they look at her, and see what's wrong.

"I'm not hurt. I'm just annoyed." But she says it softly, knowing it's a flimsy sort of falsehood. "But I shouldn't be upset with someone who can't read my mind and who can only judge based on their own."

Date: 2023-01-30 12:32 am (UTC)
decrypter: (Default)
From: [personal profile] decrypter
"I know." Still softly said. She'll leave out the part where the girl was at braille class - she doesn't need Erin to distrust any of the students. Coming at her with anger isn't going to change her mind, isn't going to show her that she's been incorrect. At least, that's what Helena's conscience is telling her.

"I'm twenty years old - if I was unhappy with how I was living my life, it's not as though I'm forever bound to what I knew. We've got physicians here, we've got magicians, we have people from places where technology can make a whole person. I'd be looking for to change it if I felt afflicted."

Date: 2023-01-30 04:25 am (UTC)
decrypter: (passing.)
From: [personal profile] decrypter
"As high as my jetpack allows, I'd hope."

It's all a metaphor, Erin. Don't think she literally has one, even as Sundries decided to give her a gun.

Date: 2023-01-30 04:40 am (UTC)
decrypter: (rather.)
From: [personal profile] decrypter
"That'd be a waste of good cupcakes."

But there's a smile in her voice again as she says it. Verbalizing what's going on actually does still help people, fake as it might seem.

Date: 2023-01-30 06:06 am (UTC)
decrypter: (trip.)
From: [personal profile] decrypter
"Oh, the last one needs more than your hands to solve all their problems."

She tries to say it very seriously, but ends up giggling anyway.

Date: 2023-01-31 09:28 pm (UTC)
decrypter: (beginning.)
From: [personal profile] decrypter
She has no doubt Erin would do that, and it's why she ends up laughing out loud, temporarily freed of the doubts that plagued her. It helps, to be able to laugh even after all that.

"You can't do it for too long - what if the wrong person tried to play you -"

And then she laughs again, because she just thought about the Erin-trumpet shrieking at the idea.

Date: 2023-01-31 11:04 pm (UTC)
decrypter: (honey.)
From: [personal profile] decrypter
It's not fair, to make her laugh like that. It's not fair at all, but she's helpless against it, and her thoughts from before are swept away in a tide of just laughing at how stupid it all is - sometimes you just need something completely different. And she's trying to regain composure, she really is, but she keeps giggling, calming down and then having to breathe very slow to come back to herself.

If Erin says anything else it's liable to set her off again.

Date: 2023-01-31 11:29 pm (UTC)
decrypter: (sweet.)
From: [personal profile] decrypter
If she could protest, she would, but instead she just dissolves, hands over her face, feeling the tears at the corners of her eyes. Her stomach hurts, but she hardly cares, because it's just funny, wringing out all the tension she's been carrying around all day.

Slow breaths. Slow, shaky breaths. It's not that funny. It is that funny. She's going to die right here of laughter and Erin will be her murderer.

Date: 2023-01-31 11:46 pm (UTC)
serialskiller: (snarky)
From: [personal profile] serialskiller
A moment later, from the direction of a cabin familiar to both of them: a strangled, squeaky sound that might be an attempt to play 'fuuuuuck you'.

Not here

Date: 2023-01-31 11:54 pm (UTC)
takethatnature: Wilson with a beard and a look of deeply irritated resignation. (beardy: grumpy)
From: [personal profile] takethatnature
From the vantage point of cabin 124, located in between 134 and 119, those squawky trumpet noises going back and forth sound kind of like someone imitating Wilson's voice.

Date: 2023-01-31 11:57 pm (UTC)
decrypter: (cascade.)
From: [personal profile] decrypter
The pun would have been bad enough, but she hears the squeak of the sound and it's over again. She has to shove her face into her pillow to not shriek loudly, barely managing to breathe. If she wasn't lying down already, she'd have had to sit down on the floor. If it's possible to laugh while you breathe, she's doing it, and if anyone needs her for anything else, impossible.

She'll survive, but barely.

Date: 2023-02-01 12:40 am (UTC)
decrypter: (crisp.)
From: [personal profile] decrypter
Coming back to the land of the living, she breathes slow, wiping the tears from her eyes, but she has a smile on, flopped fully on her bed like a starfish would be.

"What about them?"

Date: 2023-02-01 01:33 am (UTC)
decrypter: (even.)
From: [personal profile] decrypter
"...You never asked when it was."

Because that will save her, totally.

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