[ Riley remains stiff and uncomfortable, only sort of glancing at Atem. Arms crossed, jaw set.
It's...like when Steve told her not to call herself a crazy murderer, huh? Doesn't it feel awful, to talk about herself like that? Doesn't it make her feel disgusting? Yes—but she always feels like that. This is just- when it slips out, when she's so full of sharp aches and pains that it punctures her, and it leaks.
It never used to. Before, when she just pretended, so much, when she forced it all outward at everyone else with a smile that could cut diamonds. Now that smile cuts her own skin, instead, and all the sludge and poison she lives with pours forth, for everyone else to see.
Maybe part of her feels it serves them right. They want her to talk about what she feels, right? They want her to be open and honest and real, so it's for them, isn't it?
She hates that part most of all. She hates how ugly it is. How ugly all of it is.
Atem's tone lets up, warm like the sun his usual form can't go out in, and Riley's shoulders slump. She's tired. She's so tired. She hates when her friends talk like this about themselves, so she gets it—but she has to live with it. All the time. ]
...I'll try, alright? That's- all I can really do.
cw: self harm imagery in narration but no actual self harm
It's...like when Steve told her not to call herself a crazy murderer, huh? Doesn't it feel awful, to talk about herself like that? Doesn't it make her feel disgusting? Yes—but she always feels like that. This is just- when it slips out, when she's so full of sharp aches and pains that it punctures her, and it leaks.
It never used to. Before, when she just pretended, so much, when she forced it all outward at everyone else with a smile that could cut diamonds. Now that smile cuts her own skin, instead, and all the sludge and poison she lives with pours forth, for everyone else to see.
Maybe part of her feels it serves them right. They want her to talk about what she feels, right? They want her to be open and honest and real, so it's for them, isn't it?
She hates that part most of all. She hates how ugly it is. How ugly all of it is.
Atem's tone lets up, warm like the sun his usual form can't go out in, and Riley's shoulders slump. She's tired. She's so tired. She hates when her friends talk like this about themselves, so she gets it—but she has to live with it. All the time. ]
...I'll try, alright? That's- all I can really do.
[ Not distant. Not defensive. Just tired. ]