(no subject)

[river_meimei]

[After talking to Faith.]

If she passed anyone in her sobbing, blind flight from the cargo bay to the passenger dorm, River doesn't know it. Probably doesn't care.

The door of her bunk is hanging half open.

River herself is huddled in one of the smallest smuggling niches inside the wall by the engine room, wrapped in her brown duster. She wasn't wearing it in Milliways, and it's only draped around her shoulders now, the long tails straggling around her. She's crying helplessly, bitterly, in choking gasps of sobs.

A trick of the cooling conduits that snake through this corner: it's cold.

Comments

[river_meimei]

Time has passed.

River's crumpled huddle is looser now with weariness; crying wears you out, and she's no longer straining into herself with the white-knuckled tension of before.

Her eyes are closed. She sniffles, and she breathes, and every so often another tear slips down onto her knees or Kate's.

[prydeful]

For the moment she's just waiting and stroking River's hair, except for when she's wiping at tears gently.

There's no rush, and--really.

There's no where else in this universe she should be beyond here.

(It's almost funny with how true that is.)

[river_meimei]

"I'll remember," River whispers at last, her voice small and tired.

"She said."

[prydeful]

"You will." That's not, Kate thinks, necessarily reassuring. She wishes it was.

It's just what's true.

[river_meimei]

River nods a little, eyes closed, and says nothing.

Her coat drapes around her body and over Kate's thighs, the long tails hanging down to trail through the insulating tiles of the floor.

[prydeful]

Part of her wants to pull away, and has, and is really sick of touching now.

Instead she holds River till her arms ache and closes her eyes.

She doesn't know what set this off, really, but she has her own things to remember, too.