guess who!

[bronze]

what's this? it seems like there's a board game for you and a friend to play — one guess who, featuring all the guests currently in saltburnt! post a blank top-level with your character and play the game in the comments, keeping your assigned character in mind (you'll want a different character for each thread, fyi!).

for ease's sake, all threads will be outside of the au event 🖤

Comments

[diarists]

...yeah. Things made sense, even if it was in a fucked up way. [the confined, steady rhythm of the village, the summertime chores, the mundanity...she misses it. more than wiskayok, even.

shauna tries to look unaffected, but her eyes flicker down and away, her shoulders tense.]

It kinda objectively does. [telling; that this is what she feels the most immense shame for. not the monstrous things of the wilderness, but this first betrayal, this most high school girl of conflicts.]

[mygoodsir]

Yes. Even... out there.

[It is tragically comedic that a teenage girl is the one best suited to understand that it is possible to miss being lost.

Harry very gently covers one of her hands with his.]

No. It does not. You did a bad thing. That's not the same as being an awful person.

[diarists]

[shauna twitches, drops her head, stares down at his hand over hers with her throat tight and her shoulders stiff.]

I did a lot of bad things. [quiet, simmering, deeply aware in a way that will eat a hole through her the rest of her life. here or the real world or somewhere in between – it’ll be with her forever.

still – it’s fresh enough that for the moment, there’s defiance in how shauna straightens up after a moment, shoulders squared.] When does it make you awful? Is there a – threshold you need to cross?

[mygoodsir]

[Harry thinks about that. Thinks about what he himself has done.]

I don't know.

I suppose... if we lose our capacity to care.

[diarists]

Do you still care?

[quietly, head bowed, hair veiling her face.]

[mygoodsir]

Yes.

God help me, but yes.

[diarists]

[she's quiet for a very long moment, one hand coming to press at her stomach, almost subconsciously.]

I don't.

[mygoodsir]

With all due respect, my dear, I do not believe you.

[diarists]

[shauna pulls back, tucks her hands into her lap, breathing shaky, quick.]

I don't -- care if you believe me or not.

[mygoodsir]

As is your right.

But I've seen you care, Miss Shipman. Perhaps against your will.

[diarists]

Yeah, well. [shauna stands, suddenly, abruptly, jerky movements and shuddery breaths -- a terrible poker face, even now.]

It's never done me any good. So -- excuse me if I'd rather stop altogether.

[mygoodsir]

I understand.

[diarists]

[he does. she knows he does.

that's the problem.

shauna breathes in once, ragged, shaky, then turns and quickly walks away.]