[ Asuka's told herself so many times that she shouldn't cry, that she can't cry, that it hurts to let the tears out. Even if she's always failed on that account (it's easy to say that you'll never cry, quite another to always hold the tears in). But the tears still show up, hot and running down her cheeks because it hurts and it won't stop hurting. She'll cry again and again and then again before this is all over. She'll be cradled by different people, helped through this by different sets of hands, but Clarke is the first.
Lavellan was her first broodmate and the only one she opened herself to. She showed him why she hurt, why Misato couldn't be trusted, why the pain of that moment was so intense. And she'd trusted him to be there, to be a rock for her in this strange new world and now he was gone and he'd gotten himself killed and there was a void torn in her that she can't fill, will never fill, and instead there's just tears and a fresh, gaping wound.
Another scar for her to try and hide.
Her hands grasp at the blanket as Clarke drapes it over her and the objection that wants to spring to her lips dies in her throat, because there's nothing there but a pained sort of sobbing sound and she knows if she opens her mouth, it will be a wail, so she keeps that noise bottled up. She doesn't need to be any more ashamed of herself than she already is. She doesn't need to hate herself that much more for feeling emotions. Instead she curls up, allows Clarke to wrap her arm around her, and just weeps, hating herself for every tear and choked sob and hating Lavellan for dying.
Hating everyone for no good reason except that they were there. ]
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Lavellan was her first broodmate and the only one she opened herself to. She showed him why she hurt, why Misato couldn't be trusted, why the pain of that moment was so intense. And she'd trusted him to be there, to be a rock for her in this strange new world and now he was gone and he'd gotten himself killed and there was a void torn in her that she can't fill, will never fill, and instead there's just tears and a fresh, gaping wound.
Another scar for her to try and hide.
Her hands grasp at the blanket as Clarke drapes it over her and the objection that wants to spring to her lips dies in her throat, because there's nothing there but a pained sort of sobbing sound and she knows if she opens her mouth, it will be a wail, so she keeps that noise bottled up. She doesn't need to be any more ashamed of herself than she already is. She doesn't need to hate herself that much more for feeling emotions. Instead she curls up, allows Clarke to wrap her arm around her, and just weeps, hating herself for every tear and choked sob and hating Lavellan for dying.
Hating everyone for no good reason except that they were there. ]