he’d changed and arguably in ways that made him different..almost B E T T E R but he hadn’t always been that. His struggle tended to remain tied to the very bounds in which he was created — a thing. never a person: never even REMOTELY close to being a person. At least, that’s what he believed and what he seemed to continue to believe now but he had better influences. He had people he cared for (was beginning to care for) that while he may find some inevitable way to cling onto them for dear life as if their breaths were his own, they cared too or maybe they would in ways he hadn’t quite had before but this ALL OF IT was like being dragged back to that time; some inescapable narrative he kept reliving in the form of guilt and dreams that turned to nightmares. When he loved a person he loved them with his whole being, he didn’t know how not to (which was usually why he’d attempt to avoid the attachments); caring always led to P A I N. “ No, that’s not — I shouldn’t be freaking out on you, ” because he was certain or in fact, he KNEW her sister hadn’t cared about him. She didn’t love him but rather loved what he could provide until he refused to provide it anymore and the worst thing? — he wished he had because the anger and the hurt didn’t matter; sometimes all he really felt were selfish desires (or in the end, he was so broken that he cared and needed the people that didn’t reciprocate).
avoiding the topic and just apologizing for her loss would’ve been a simpler idea as to not find his guilt tipping into needing answers or just a few extra moments but he wasn’t that person. So while his glance remained sympathetic, there was more too it — almost an extra question just to grasp if all of this was OKAY. He’d almost wanted to teeter into the questions of the end of her life, of how he remained haunted: how sometimes he felt as if she’d chosen to haunt him but (and call it making better choices in the present day) he understood the narrative of grief because he’d lost enough people, both by his own hand and because of Malivore — he didn’t believe it fair to drag that pain back up, even if all she’d ever be was a stranger. Some twin he’d never known about. “ It was nice sometimes; I think I have this tendency to link myself to balls of light, ” to the people that were the opposite of him because he didn’t really know what happiness was or certainly not entirely. Something about that thought at least dragged some smile out of nowhere, something that seemed to brighten up his features from their naturally dreary tones. “, she was like sunshine on a cloudy day. I never really knew what it was to be that but it was nice to be around. ” He gave a small nod, something to hopefully build the truth behind his words. “ I’m sorry you lost her — I’m just sorry in general. ”
confusion aligned her features. freaking out was exactly what she’d do if she hadn’t know her dead friend happened to have an identical twin. her brow arched up, watching him with inquiry starlted upon her gaze. “PLEASE,” she began. “tell me outright. you and my sister... were you enemies? friends? magic mules?” it was something cosette had been caught in once. trading magic like a fucking drug. colette hated to see her sister in such nasty habits. habits she tried to stump out, which cosette took to doing them BEHIND HER BACK. “i don’t care if you were doing illegal shit or what but if you hated her-” and many did. cosette was a heartbreaker. she stole the hearts of men and women with ease and precision. brainy, beauty and brandished. it was funny, they were i d e n t i c a l and yet so many traits cosette had had solely to her own self. once upon a time, colette had been JEALOUS. now cosette was dead, and all colette felt regarding her sister was grief ( and, more times then she would care to admit, FURY too, and betrayal. hurt. so many complicated emotions for someone who could never face them ).
her sister, a ball of light ?? it would be humarous if he didn’t seem so serious about it, and of course, the implication that he himself was darkness. and though, he hadn’t meant it in such way, she was sure of that. colette couldn’t help but feel like darkness TOO. cosette wanted life so badly, wanted magic, wanted so much. so full of live that she now no longer had. and than there was colette herself. so wasteful of the life she did have. barely about to make ends meet. the wrong twin had died. “she could be like that.” despite her anger and her fury and al that hurt, there was inexplicable mourning for the sister who made her pancakes, and played monopoly with her, who played SPIT with her, who would do her nails and hair, make sure her glasses prescription was up to date ( speaking of which, she should get on that ).a good sister, a good sister who was now GONE. ease swallowed her gaze at his words. so he was a friend, someone who cared. it was nice to know that cosette had still had those in that very end. “thank you.” she said, tone small like. “i appreciate that.” extending her hand, perhaps a bit tight rung. “my name is colette. and yours?”
