Sometimes that's harder to remember than other times.
River tries a smile. It's wobbly, and teary, and twists and trembles away from her. But it's something like a smile, because -- even here, even now -- the Lady can get one.
"Always do."
"Ontological."
Everything in this room looks insubstantial next to a face white as starlight and eyes black as space.
She'd tell her what she told her littlest brother, that everyone knows everything, really, but that might be a little much for her to deal with right now. And besides. She doesn't have that big a mouth.
Not really.
"Hey, kiddo." Her voice is soft, like the velvet sheath of a particularly fine blade.
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The room is blurry, drug-hazed.
Death's not. She's
(real as roses, my dear)
white and black and sharp-edged, and lovely.
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She doesn't need to ask how River's doing.
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After a long moment, "Are you here?" Hoarse, and slightly slurred.
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There's a pause, during which there she plays with River's hair.
"You're not going anywhere, you know. Well. Not right now."
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She watches Death as if she's the only real thing in the room, as if she can't look away. Like a traveller in a desert, staring at a still clear pool.
"It's in the needles. Underneath."
Her glazed eyes shine with unshed tears.
"Hi." Or maybe that's hile.
Her enunciation's not so great right now.
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"It's gonna be alright, I think. From what I know of your brother, and your ka-tet. For now, though, you just have to hold on."
She crouches next to River, one hand brushing the back of hers, the other on her temple.
She won't take her hand. Not here. Not yet.
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A tear wells, overspills, and traces a slow line down her cheek.
"I -- She will." The pauses in her sentences stretch too long. "Be a tumbleweed."
Another slow tear. "I'm trying."
To the guards and the cameras, she's talking to mid-air.
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She'll be there, if it'll help. She made a promise, after all.
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Sometimes that's harder to remember than other times.
River tries a smile. It's wobbly, and teary, and twists and trembles away from her. But it's something like a smile, because -- even here, even now -- the Lady can get one.
"Always do."
"Ontological."
Everything in this room looks insubstantial next to a face white as starlight and eyes black as space.
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"Like the wind, my girl."
She smiles back.
It'll be okay.
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Well.
River's smile gets a little firmer, a little surer, even as another tear spills over.
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"Hush now, you."
And look! There is beeping of River's nose. Complete with sound effects.
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A slow blink, and then another, as she tries to keep her eyes focused on Death.
And then -- delayed reaction -- she ducks her head a fraction against the cool floor, and breathes out in the kind of silent laugh that's half a sob.
But only half.
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