[Bathroom sink water is gross, so let's say she's keeping some in the fridge here in a carafe from the cafeteria or something and presses it into Nozomi's hands.]
Here. Drink it slowly...especially if your stomach is against you.
[The image won't fade from memory quickly, nor will the visceral response to it. The sound. She's being as realistic as possible while also being tender.]
[Cantarella makes sure Nozomi is drinking all right before leaning back, her hands in her lap. They worry against each other slightly.]
I am frustrated, my dear, and afraid. But fear, I've found, opens the door to doubt, allowing uncertainty to seep in until it permeates the entire room.
[Doubt makes it easier to make heedless decisions, easier to compromise oneself, easily influenced.]
[She exhales softly.] An impossible question...I think it can't be done entirely. But by not letting fear freeze you or take control of your actions, you remain at the helm of the ship...even if the ocean should be unsteady.
[She isn't speaking harshly when she says this, but there is a specific firm tilt to her voice.]
The alternative is to turn your back on everything that you find worth persisting for.
[Cantarella studies Nozomi's expression for a moment before leaning forward, bracing over her knees. She's not close enough to be touching, but she has leaned down enough to try to catch the girl's eyes when she looks away from the glass.]
What is it that you're feeling, and what do you want to do with that?
You're a very kind girl, placing the safety of others as highly as you do.
[She certainly catches that tremble, sensing something deeper in it beneath the worry and sadness. She takes her hand.]
Living is responsibility, Nozomi. Even if you're frightened, can you uphold that responsibility? To the people who have been lost and everyone here with you, sick and well? And to yourself?
So long as you earnestly mean that, I will strive to be by your side so you don't have to be frightened alone.
[She lets her hand linger with Nozomi's in its grip. It's not a promise, for many reasons, even before accounting for that feeling of occasional, pulsing dread that makes her breathing tighten up again.]
Tomorrow, and the day after, and after that, we march forward, but you can cry tonight.
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Here. Drink it slowly...especially if your stomach is against you.
[The image won't fade from memory quickly, nor will the visceral response to it. The sound. She's being as realistic as possible while also being tender.]
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She really wonders if it's ever going to fade. Maybe, but this place will likely create new horrors to add to the collection growing in her mind.
She takes a small sip.]
How... How are you feeling?
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I am frustrated, my dear, and afraid. But fear, I've found, opens the door to doubt, allowing uncertainty to seep in until it permeates the entire room.
[Doubt makes it easier to make heedless decisions, easier to compromise oneself, easily influenced.]
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Her free hand comes around to grip her other arm and squeezes, an act of self-comfort.]
... I know you're right about doubt.
[If Nozomi had gone along with everything back at home, then...]
But... how do you stop yourself from being afraid?
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[She isn't speaking harshly when she says this, but there is a specific firm tilt to her voice.]
The alternative is to turn your back on everything that you find worth persisting for.
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Fear frozen... her deer ears droop.
Something weighs heavily on her mind. ]
... I need to get my emotions under control.
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What is it that you're feeling, and what do you want to do with that?
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... I'm scared and I'm worried for everybody who's here. But I don't want to feel scared all of the time. I want everyone to be safe and go h-home.
[That last word trembles oddly in her throat.]
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[She certainly catches that tremble, sensing something deeper in it beneath the worry and sadness. She takes her hand.]
Living is responsibility, Nozomi. Even if you're frightened, can you uphold that responsibility? To the people who have been lost and everyone here with you, sick and well? And to yourself?
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Between that and Cantarella holding her hand she can't stop herself from tearing up.]
I... I want to.
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[She lets her hand linger with Nozomi's in its grip. It's not a promise, for many reasons, even before accounting for that feeling of occasional, pulsing dread that makes her breathing tighten up again.]
Tomorrow, and the day after, and after that, we march forward, but you can cry tonight.
no subject
[She was lucky they're roommates.]
I want to... Make sure I live up to that.