Dimitri excuses himself to Fio, and steps out of the cabin to find a stairwell private enough to shout at his phone.
I don't care what you are! I'm supposed to protect! That's my job! That's the last thing that makes me a person and I can't even do that! Everyone I love dies in front of me and I cannot stop it from happening! And I keep being told that it's fine and death is fine and I shouldn't care It's! Not! Fine!
He hurls his phone across the stairwell hard enough it dents the wall with a crunch, and crumples into a ball against the corner.
Dimitri's not leaving that stairwell. He picks his head up at the faint whirr of a drone, glaring at it with red-rimmed eyes. "I'm going to care," he snarls. "Whether you want me to or not."
"It hurt to watch someone I care about die. It hurts that I couldn't do anything to prevent it. Does that make sense? Am I insane? Why does no one seem to understand that?"
Dimitri buries his head back in his arms.
"Glenn, and Dedue, and Darcy, and you. What do I have to do to believe that the people I love won't die the moment I turn my back? Why do you all keep insisting it's okay?"
"I don't know! I don't know why I love people, it just happens -- oh, yes, and Ossie going out to find Ginger without asking for help like he promised, why does this keep happening? -- you're kind! You care! You want to be more than what you were made for and, and you made me feel like I could, too, and I love you for that!" Dimitri sniffs and scrubs his wrist across his eyes. "I don't. I don't wish I loved less than I do. But Saints alive it wouldn't hurt so goddamn much."
And then Murderbot it-proper-self turns up. No blanket. No supplies. Just. A murderbot that was never meant to be loved. In a stairwell with a prince with too large a heart.
It doesn't know what to say. It doesn't have answers. But it is here.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2022-11-09 07:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-11-09 07:49 am (UTC)No
Nobdy dying wsa t e bsst utcome
I couldnt asve rich or ossie or giles or dar cy o r you
Couldn t do anything
no subject
Date: 2022-11-09 02:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-11-10 12:29 am (UTC)Dimitri excuses himself to Fio, and steps out of the cabin to find a stairwell private enough to shout at his phone.
I don't care what you are!
I'm supposed to protect! That's my job! That's the last thing that makes me a person and I can't even do that!
Everyone I love dies in front of me and I cannot stop it from happening!
And I keep being told that it's fine and death is fine and I shouldn't care
It's!
Not!
Fine!
He hurls his phone across the stairwell hard enough it dents the wall with a crunch, and crumples into a ball against the corner.
no subject
Date: 2022-11-10 12:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-11-10 01:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-11-11 11:15 am (UTC)There's a vague undertone of exasperation, though the drone's tiny speakers render it a bit hard to tell what it's emoting beyond that.
no subject
Date: 2022-11-11 12:02 pm (UTC)Dimitri buries his head back in his arms.
"Glenn, and Dedue, and Darcy, and you. What do I have to do to believe that the people I love won't die the moment I turn my back? Why do you all keep insisting it's okay?"
no subject
Date: 2022-11-11 06:58 pm (UTC)That's not doubt, that's confusion.
"What do you mean?"
no subject
Date: 2022-11-11 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-11-11 07:17 pm (UTC)And then Murderbot it-proper-self turns up. No blanket. No supplies. Just. A murderbot that was never meant to be loved. In a stairwell with a prince with too large a heart.
It doesn't know what to say. It doesn't have answers. But it is here.