she wants to lie. 

but that is not how you build trust. 

instead, she leans forward, away from the door. her turn to curl in on herself. to be made smaller. 

"i...have a lot of regrets. less, now, because i've come to terms with them, but i regret not taking care of myself. of...letting myself get hurt, and used, to the point where other people, like cyllora, could hurt me more."

she is gentle with her words, with the admission. his name is on the back of her tongue, blossoming in the back of her throat, an itch that will linger on in her forevermore, but it hurts less than it used to. 

worse, now, because of the poisons, but still far, far less than before.

she brandishes the words he said to her all those moons ago: "having your mobility, your autonomy, stripped from you, changes a person.* i think people who are willing to do that to someone else...no, eris, as freya, i don't regret attacking her."

Eris Halla

☉

the memories poke and prod at her, asking in sickly sweet siren's songs to be let in. remember resentment and hatred and guilt. fall back into the comfort, into the arms of what she knows, a shadowed, pink place where she thrived. 

where she was always, always starving for more.

the door clicks and she breathes out through her nose, turns her head to crack golden eyes open and look at the girl, looking at her. 

"i told hideo the same thing i wanted to tell you. i want you as far away from the war as possible. i want you safe. not used, like we've been made to be used before."

Eris Halla

☉

you don't, she wants to say because one's limits are an elastic thing, stretching and stretching with the promise that you can do more, just a little more, until the inevitable snap. the all-at-once crumbling and breaking and aching. 

"family. real family, good family, doesn't want to kill you for making choices. especially hard choices."

she uncurls. she extends her legs, unfolding them one by one, stretches her booted toes out. the backs of her legs tingle. she listens and she thinks of how fortunate it is she was found by the morningstars, that she was raised their own. 

"i'm trying to," she says. she shifts and lifts up an arm, bending slightly, offering some semblance of normalcy through touch even if it doesn't feel so normal to her. (but more normal than it would have been years ago. she's held delta like this, sometimes, when watching nature documentaries on the couch.)

"there is - there are people i know in rocket. people who want out," she says carefully. "and i want it safe for them too. i can't promise it will be perfect, but i'm...i'm trying, eris."

Eris Halla

☉

"yeah, and i'm sorry for that too," she says. to the lack of choice. to experiencing horrors for no other reason than someone else took your control. someone you trusted, someone you loved, hurt you, and maybe they meant to do the right things, but sometimes what's right isn't what's necessary and sometimes what's necessary isn't what we need. 

she puts her arm back down when eris doesn't sidle to her; that's fine. it allows her to look back out, to hide the wetness of her own lashes. 

"i know what it feels like, eris, to think yourself a monster," she says thickly. "and those bad things you did? those people you hurt? you're doing right by them now, by trying. that's all that matters. that's all you can do now."

eris' hands knit in her luxray's fur and freya understands that too - hands outstretched for the comfort of scales, the touch of familiar warmth beside her so the nightmares might stay at bay. she gathers herself, puts a hand on her knee to stand up, uses her other to wipe inconspicuously at her eyes. 

"yeah," she says, moving to leave. "i'll do my best. i'll let them know. they're good people, isaac and navy. i'm glad you have them."

Eris Halla

☉