pointofhonoria | come sail away inbox

"Erin, you're bleeding," almost instinctively she dabs at what's dribbling down her chin with the end of her sleeve. Focuses on that for a moment as she tries to process... all of that.

God. Sometimes she wishes she didn't need to know things so desperately. It never stops her from asking, but it doesn't stop the hard answers from taking her breath away when she gets them.

She knew she must have died. She's been through this song and dance before, waking up all tucked in at six in the morning. It's been months since the Battle Royale but you don't forget that.

If she were thinking straight, she might have been able to put together more of the pieces. But she isn't. She's disoriented and scared and can barely put together her own thoughts, let alone the giant gap in her life here on the boat. 'Put Daisy down' is such a tidy way to admit that they had to kill her, kill someone who was running around wearing her face.

Erin and Johnny had to kill her and face her the next day.

That's one pain this boat has caused so many that Crabb has yet to experience. She's only ever come at it from the other side. The killed, not the killer.

"—caring for you ain't a burden, Erin." She has to say that, she has to say that first before she admits, "B-But I guess I— guess I ain't gonna be much use when I feel like death warmed over."

And that, perhaps, is admitted more for Erin's benefit than her own. Right now, to her, the idea of spending the day focused on Erin isn't a bad one. She wouldn't be alone. She wouldn't have to focus on herself. She wouldn't have to figure out how to brave facing the others when she doesn't know what this Daisy did.

But she's a wreck. She knows she is. She couldn't help Erin right now even if she tried.

So even though her chest feels tight, she just... squeezes Erin's hand tight, and dares to press a quick kiss to her cheek. She likes the way that makes her heart thrum far better than the way the rest of the fear, does.

"Later, then. And I'm sorry. That you had to... I know it ain't my fault, alright, but I'm sorry."

Erin shakes her head faintly. A sad smile comes up on her face and stays there. "Things with my magic shapeshift pretty often, love." The pet name just slips out and she doesn't even notice, just keeps talking. "This isn't my first time killing something wearing a friend's face, but...it only ever gets easier in the moment. You learn to put aside the feelings, to sweep a piece off the board, and then later the hit comes and it crushes you. I. Like the idea of being cared for. I do. I wanna just curl up on your floor and cry like a little bitch and feel you there, not...not hating me for being able to do it. But when someone fakes being the original, the original is usually fine. You...you took the hit too."

Erin stands, slowly. Gently tugs on Crabb's hand to encourage her to stand too. "Get some of the breakfast outside. Maybe text Johnny to see if his family's managed to stop holding him long enough to see you. Time alone with your thoughts will be good but...not immediately. Not now. Don't lock yourself away in here, okay?"

'Love'. It's a damned miracle Crabb even processes a word she said after that, with how quickly the word begins echoing around her skull, bouncing off the sides like mad. The flush is back in her cheeks in an instant.

That's going to keep coming back to her all day. Beyond, probably.

"...some things shouldn't have to get easier. None 'a what we're getting used to here should be becomin' normal, and that ain't any different for crap we've had to get used to at home, yeah?"

But she lets herself be coaxed up to her feet. Her body is her own again, and yet there are moments where she doesn't feel quite settled in her own skin. Now is one of those moments. Everything beyond the hand Erin's holding feels... distant, and— alright. Maybe she's hungry. Thirsty.

Maybe she'll feel a little more alive if she treats herself like she is.

"I'll eat. An' I'll text him. Dunno— dunno if I can face the rest of the world right now, is all."

"I won't ask you to. I'm just...advising. I can't imagine the hit you just took but I know about getting hit."

Alright Erin. Deep breath.

NO WAIT FUCK -

She lets go to clutch her ribs with the pained wince of someone who did not learn the first time. Oh that's bracing. Really shoulda seen the doctor first, huh?

"Okay. I'm. Gonna limp out of here now. Like a cat who just fell off the table. Find me sometime soon, yeah? There's more to tell you when my head's on straighter, but...there's more people to check on too."

Reluctantly, slowly, Erin goes. She pauses to scoop up her armor and outer layers, regrets that immediately too ("Fffffuck me!"), and just about manages to get out the door.

She makes it 0 inches into the hallway before girlish, if pained, squeals of delight float back through the door; they only fade when Erin's too distant for them to make it back.

Crabb drops to sit, and then lay sprawled out on her mattress as the door shuts and instinctually hides her face in her arms as the sounds of Erin's delight float back through and hit her right in the heart like a damn cupid's arrow or some other cheesy metaphor she can't wrap her brain around right now.

That really happened. (Right? Yes, right.) She actually kissed Erin and Erin kissed her and— and apparently they both feel like giddy, delighted youths despite everything else right now because Erin's squealing like one and Crabb can't help how much she's smiling into her arm.

Everything else is still there, of course. She's barely been back in her own skin long enough to process what it meant to be out of it. She feels untethered, as soon as the room is empty. She's terrified of what's to come, of finding out everything she missed, of asking the questions she knows she has to ask. A part of her fears that three weeks out of touch, her body causing who knows what problems as 'Daisy' ran around in it, will only make it all the harder for her to figure out how to fit in here (it's been months, now, she should be settled, she should know her place, she should...).

All of that and countless more questions, concerns, and yet for this one, fleeting moment...

She feels happy.

She really does.

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