we're always running scared but holding knives
"I'm sorry," Isla whispers, feeling each wash of his grief like a blade across her skin, though she doesn't draw away from him either. "Oh, one of those conversations," she echoes, nodding her understanding even if she doesn't know the details. She doesn't need to, not with Remi laid bare like an open book against her emotions. Still, as he continues, she doesn't expect this to be about her - not leading on from the Ronin and Remi conversation, anyway - and she draws back just enough to look across at him.
"I don't want to cause you pain, Remi. If that's what me being here is doing, then I'll do anything to try and fix it." She doesn't say I'll go, because it's a lie. She doesn't want to go now, especially after finally being able to speak with the alchemist again. "I... Remi..." Torn between wanting to throw her arms around him to melt into them and sitting back further to create distance, Isla can only sit in the useless now, reaching out to hold his hand.
"Would it be enough?" she asks, honest and tired and sad. "If it happened... would you not want there to be another last time? And another - and another? Because I think I would."
"I don't want to cause you pain, Remi. If that's what me being here is doing, then I'll do anything to try and fix it." She doesn't say I'll go, because it's a lie. She doesn't want to go now, especially after finally being able to speak with the alchemist again. "I... Remi..." Torn between wanting to throw her arms around him to melt into them and sitting back further to create distance, Isla can only sit in the useless now, reaching out to hold his hand.
"Would it be enough?" she asks, honest and tired and sad. "If it happened... would you not want there to be another last time? And another - and another? Because I think I would."
Isla
