Ice cream and sewing. Terezi sits against this pile, feeling so out of place. She knows what they're doing. They're trying to press on and make the best of things. They're trying to focus on the now and what they have left.
She doesn't want to do it. Every part of her just wants to lay here and grieve and not think about the future. Not when the future seems so much emptier than it did just a few days ago.
She tries to think up something, anyway. Just something--anything. She doesn't even have to do it, but every time she tries to think of some activity to pick up, her thoughts fall back to things she did with Meulin. Drawing together, braiding each other's hair, the little gifts that they made for each other...
She takes a deep breath. Something good. Anything, just something good. Something she can do. "I want to paint," she finally says after the longest silence. It feels like a breath taken in the dead of winter's chill, hard to breathe in and hard to breathe out. "I want to paint her room. They emptied it out of all her things, but I want to fill up again from floor to ceiling. I want to make it so they can't get rid of her so easy."
She clenches her fists, tight then loose then tight again. She breathes. And she lifts her head to smell their reactions, to gauge if they would come with her or not.
no subject
She doesn't want to do it. Every part of her just wants to lay here and grieve and not think about the future. Not when the future seems so much emptier than it did just a few days ago.
She tries to think up something, anyway. Just something--anything. She doesn't even have to do it, but every time she tries to think of some activity to pick up, her thoughts fall back to things she did with Meulin. Drawing together, braiding each other's hair, the little gifts that they made for each other...
She takes a deep breath. Something good. Anything, just something good. Something she can do. "I want to paint," she finally says after the longest silence. It feels like a breath taken in the dead of winter's chill, hard to breathe in and hard to breathe out. "I want to paint her room. They emptied it out of all her things, but I want to fill up again from floor to ceiling. I want to make it so they can't get rid of her so easy."
She clenches her fists, tight then loose then tight again. She breathes. And she lifts her head to smell their reactions, to gauge if they would come with her or not.