[ There isn’t much Aerith can offer in response to that. She turns her head to Emily, letting go of the mask. Her fingers go cold, then, losing the warmth of skin, of body heat when she relinquishes her touch from it. The smile she offers Emily is gentle and waxes half-full, like a receding moon. There are a great deal of things on her mind— all of them losses. Then, after a pause full of implications and would-bes or have-beens, Aerith speaks. ]
[taking the mask back, fastening it on her waist, it gives her a plausible reason to look down and away from Aerith. she won't see her eyes for this.]
I'm not sure what you mean.
[maybe I'm just tired of having the same fucking argument with you when I know you're just going to work yourself to death anyway. Andy's words, hot and caustic, kept alive in some corner of her heart to keep her humble. apology after apology, because it applies to everyone else. their emotions can come in, fill up space in the construct that is "Emily Dyer". there's room for it. the less of herself, the more space they have.]
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no subject
Speaking from experience?
[ She knows Emily isn’t. ]
no subject
I'm not sure what you mean.
[maybe I'm just tired of having the same fucking argument with you when I know you're just going to work yourself to death anyway. Andy's words, hot and caustic, kept alive in some corner of her heart to keep her humble. apology after apology, because it applies to everyone else. their emotions can come in, fill up space in the construct that is "Emily Dyer". there's room for it. the less of herself, the more space they have.]