rule #3 (written;)

[scaler]

I don't get you. One day the castle's full of shit, and the next we're tapping along into the holiday season?

[She didn't miss a Thanksgiving, not really. Even if the months were slightly skewed, she still had them. Last year it was at home, with her sister, when the world was still right-side-up. This year it was here, with people she never should have met.

In the heat of the moment, maybe the return to normalcy was reinvigorating, uplifting, all those bullshit words people fed her when she was still safe behind Crawford's barrier. But in the end, all it lifts is her bitterness back to the surface.

There's a pause. It's not like the castle has thrown anything at them that's any worse than she's already seen. It's the dichotomy that's making her head spin. She's either committed or she's not, this halfway stuff is exhausting.

Her pen loops on the page, not bothering to disguise her handwriting.]

Who exactly are we supposed to be thanking?

Comments

[molotov]

That isn't complicated. It is just giving up.

[scaler]

[She's inclined to agree, but. She's rapidly getting tired of people trying to talk to her like they understand her world.]

Call it whatever you want. It's not your world.

[molotov]

Doesn't matter. If you want to die, it is easier than keeping on. Just swallow a bullet, nothing complicated about it.