Grief is not something that they’ve experienced much of in their life, despite all of the pain and death they’re surrounded by constantly. Only recently has grief played such a major role in things for them. They don’t remember most of their childhood, after all, memories replaced by static and distortion, they don’t remember their parents’ deaths, what their grief was like then except for the vague feeling that being reaped was only appropriate, believing they would die soon enough, too. After their Games, there was no time for grief, even if they wish they could have mourned Thalia better, mourned their childhood, their mind, better. In the absence of dealing with that grief the past twenty-three years, they’re not sure how to handle these feelings now, not sure what to say to help Aven when they feel lost themself. It’s not okay, of course, but they understand what she’s saying, they understand that she’s telling them that she understands there’s not a way to make this feel any better for either of them in this moment. Perhaps for now just being here together can be enough, although they’re not certain anything could be enough after such a show.Â
“I’ll stay as long as you want. Or if you’d like to come down to Three, get away from everything here, you know you’re always welcome,” they say, voice quiet, and it feels like so little to offer, given everything that’s happened, but they have nothing else at the moment. There’s a pang of guilt at her next words, that now she can give whatever resources she has to Zero instead. It makes their chest tighten uncomfortably, makes Nilla’s last moments play in their mind again, side by side Thalia’s. But there’s a hint of something else there, too, because Nilla made the choice, she looked at Zero and told him to keep going, despite his offers to try to keep helping and likely end up dead with her. It’s a small consolation, but it’s something to hold onto; Thalia hadn’t had the choice in their Games. And as cruel as it feels to consider it now, they have a strong feeling that, given the circumstances, Nilla would have Aven make sure that choice wasn’t for naught. “Thank you,” is all they can manage to say at first, although that feels strange to say in and of itself. “She made that choice, in a way. I know it doesn’t make it any less horrifying, or unfair, but at least it was her choice.”
“THANK YOU, SILVER.” It occurs to Aven that Silver is trying their best to find the right words, and she wants them to know that she appreciates the gesture, but it’s clear to her that at this moment too that there isn’t quite much to say that will make them both feel better. She gives them that gratitude anyway, happy to hear them offer staying around for as long as she wants, happy as well to hear them offer for her to go with them down at Three for more company. She doesn’t intend to take them up on either, of course, knowing first of all that Silver’s got quite a lot to do and she mustn’t monopolize their time, and second of all that Gazel is with them down at Three, and she’d rather not intrude on their time together. Additionally, Digit is likely still skulking about somewhere down there, and Aven’s not so sure how ready she is to see that kid’s face; she barely even knows how Silver and Gazel both manage it. All the same, she’s glad to hear these offers being given; they’re a form of reassurance too, in their own way.
She doesn’t comment a response to that, hoping it’s enough for them to know that she appreciates them giving her this comfort. Instead, she focuses on what they say about Nilla, on their thanks, on the guilt that had, for a moment there, been written clear and plain on their face. Aven gives their words some time to settle, the air quiet between them for just a little less than a minute, before she nods and adjusts in her seat. “I’ve been thinking of it that way too. I’m... glad that her agency, at least, wasn’t removed entirely.” She swallows, breathes in to calm her nerves a little more, before continuing. “It was a tough and frightening decision to make, but she made it, in the end. To help... to save someone else.” Someone that’s very important too; she and Silver and Nilla herself all know that. “None of it was in vain. I... I know that.” Of course, knowing is one thing, and believing is another, but Aven wants to think that if she keeps telling herself these things again and again, she’ll come to fully believe and accept it too.