"You're not whining," he says firmly. "No more so than I just was." In an inverted ouroboros of caring -- Darcy would never let Dimitri belittle himself like that. And he still wants to, and he wouldn't be able to believe her, either, but maybe he can turn indignation on his behalf into compassion on her own. "You died. No one could take such a thing lightly."
Dimitri tucks his arm more securely around Darcy's shoulders. What can he say? He knows all too well the need to stay present, stay moving, stay functional to stave off collapse. Like runaway wheels, their own momentum keeps them upright. If it ever runs out, they'll fall, and who can say if they'll ever pick themselves up again. On the Serena Eterna, so far removed from any context he knows, anything that's given his life meaning or purpose since that day, Dimitri is grimly aware of his own momentum wobbling. He wonders if it's the same for Darcy.
"Well, if you do fall apart," he says more quietly, "I'll do my best to pick you up. And if you need time -- space where you don't need to be useful to anyone -- I'll carve it with my own hands. It's not okay." He huffs. " ... and if you need to cry, I can keep my mouth shut for an hour. It's only fair."
It's not his first time holding someone who needs, who can't afford to feel the weight of everything they've been through. A different time, a different place, a different person, but ... the memories stir, all the same.
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Dimitri tucks his arm more securely around Darcy's shoulders. What can he say? He knows all too well the need to stay present, stay moving, stay functional to stave off collapse. Like runaway wheels, their own momentum keeps them upright. If it ever runs out, they'll fall, and who can say if they'll ever pick themselves up again. On the Serena Eterna, so far removed from any context he knows, anything that's given his life meaning or purpose since that day, Dimitri is grimly aware of his own momentum wobbling. He wonders if it's the same for Darcy.
"Well, if you do fall apart," he says more quietly, "I'll do my best to pick you up. And if you need time -- space where you don't need to be useful to anyone -- I'll carve it with my own hands. It's not okay." He huffs. " ... and if you need to cry, I can keep my mouth shut for an hour. It's only fair."
It's not his first time holding someone who needs, who can't afford to feel the weight of everything they've been through. A different time, a different place, a different person, but ... the memories stir, all the same.