[The glow shines clearly through Ellie's shirt again as Glimmer takes her hand, as her emotions thrum through her -- Ellie always feels terribly exhausted, sad, guilty. But she can set it aside, pull her concern over Glimmer to the forefront.
So Glimmer's anxiety and fear is up there, blanketing painful over everything, and Ellie breathes through it, feeling it as surely as she does. It's... so much to carry. Different in the weight. It's despair, and it tastes familiar.
There's a fucked-up echo from Ellie's side, the guilt and hurt of going from this type of anxiety to actual failure, but she clamps down on that as much as she can. Glimmer doesn't need that right now. She needs reasons to keep fighting-
But. Even as Ellie tastes all of this, she can feel the fire of who she is. Even though she feels scared and trapped, she hasn't given up.
It roars up in Ellie's chest, a deep admiration and fondness for her, pressing alongside all that pain. Glimmer hasn't given up.
How is it that you're never scared? The voice is a boy's a trickle of a memory. He's maybe eleven, or twelve. His face comes in fractured snapshots. In flickers. But the memory of his voice is crystal clear.
Who says that I'm not? Ellie answers. Her voice is softer, higher.]
What're you scared of?
[As Ellie asks it aloud, the boy's face and voice intermingle with hers. Asking the same exact question. The memory fades out.]
no subject
So Glimmer's anxiety and fear is up there, blanketing painful over everything, and Ellie breathes through it, feeling it as surely as she does. It's... so much to carry. Different in the weight. It's despair, and it tastes familiar.
There's a fucked-up echo from Ellie's side, the guilt and hurt of going from this type of anxiety to actual failure, but she clamps down on that as much as she can. Glimmer doesn't need that right now. She needs reasons to keep fighting-
But. Even as Ellie tastes all of this, she can feel the fire of who she is. Even though she feels scared and trapped, she hasn't given up.
It roars up in Ellie's chest, a deep admiration and fondness for her, pressing alongside all that pain. Glimmer hasn't given up.
How is it that you're never scared? The voice is a boy's a trickle of a memory. He's maybe eleven, or twelve. His face comes in fractured snapshots. In flickers. But the memory of his voice is crystal clear.
Who says that I'm not? Ellie answers. Her voice is softer, higher.]
What're you scared of?
[As Ellie asks it aloud, the boy's face and voice intermingle with hers. Asking the same exact question. The memory fades out.]