[ Wasn't it a parent's job to not talk about their worries? The little things (or big, in Silco's case) that kept them up. All the things that made him feel like his skin was itching in all the wrong places, the things that left him pacing. Thinking. Winding his brain in little circles, trying to figure them out. All the things that made him angry, because being angry is what keeps him from that pit always in the edge of his vision.
No. Being Angry. Being Driven. That's how one avoided it. That burgeoning despair. It was always there, but so much smaller. Now it's large. Now it threatens to swallow him whole, if he even dares look at it. Dares address it. ]
I've always been thin, Jinx.
[ He remarks. He waits for it, he'd waited for her to give it. It's... both familiar and not. He waits for it to come.
The anticipation is worse than the sting. ]
I even ate yesterday. I'm fine.
[ he's trying to distract himself from the incoming sting. ]
no subject
No. Being Angry. Being Driven. That's how one avoided it. That burgeoning despair. It was always there, but so much smaller. Now it's large. Now it threatens to swallow him whole, if he even dares look at it. Dares address it. ]
I've always been thin, Jinx.
[ He remarks. He waits for it, he'd waited for her to give it. It's... both familiar and not. He waits for it to come.
The anticipation is worse than the sting. ]
I even ate yesterday. I'm fine.
[ he's trying to distract himself from the incoming sting. ]