AURELIA
and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be
maybe they never will be
Aurelia's glare flames with anger and her shoulders rise with tension as Milo and Rigby both square the same argument against her, that she shouldn't have even tried, and she roils at the feeling of being an impulsive fucking idiot, of their gazes pinning on her together, feeling suddenly very small and so stupid.
A heavy breath scoffs out through her nose and her lips tighten into a fierce line. With this, she's no longer an active participant in the conversation. She doesn't want to be. Doesn't want to be here anymore, either. Rigby's comment rolls off her shoulders and she withdraws as much as she can from this, not wanting to dig her hole any further. It's already deep enough to be her grave, anyway.
She can hear the echo of Milo's words in her ears, and she knows he's right, she knows she was wrong to fire the shot. Even now, even thinking he deserved it, even in spite of the way he continues to try and goad her, she feels a sharp sense of guilt. So she slumps her elbows in against the counter and hardly notices when Milo comes over to steal the cigarette from her. Her gaze centers on a spot on the surface of the counter and she doesn't respond to Milo's question, focusing instead on stilling the agitated beat of her blood in her veins.
A heavy breath scoffs out through her nose and her lips tighten into a fierce line. With this, she's no longer an active participant in the conversation. She doesn't want to be. Doesn't want to be here anymore, either. Rigby's comment rolls off her shoulders and she withdraws as much as she can from this, not wanting to dig her hole any further. It's already deep enough to be her grave, anyway.
She can hear the echo of Milo's words in her ears, and she knows he's right, she knows she was wrong to fire the shot. Even now, even thinking he deserved it, even in spite of the way he continues to try and goad her, she feels a sharp sense of guilt. So she slumps her elbows in against the counter and hardly notices when Milo comes over to steal the cigarette from her. Her gaze centers on a spot on the surface of the counter and she doesn't respond to Milo's question, focusing instead on stilling the agitated beat of her blood in her veins.
but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep
when you're ready to sleep
