[She lets go of Frisk's hand. That leaves her arm free to wipe her eyes- pretty soon she takes off her jacket and just uses the whole thing as a handkerchief. No point worrying about being embarrassed. They're well past that.
And there isn't much left in her, emotionally, to even feel embarrassed. The remaining strength in her tired mind is too caught up in sadness, trailing in the wake of everything that's happened.
Her sobs continue to subside until they're just muffled breaths, her eyes puffy and her nose raw. And the jacket's covered in bloodstains, too.
She ends up staring at the discarded pack of cigarettes. The silence goes on a little as she tries to stretch it out, tries to regain her calm. It works, a little, but the anger and grief are still there, simmering. When she speaks her voice is soft, timid.]
...I hate this place so much, Frisk. [She looks at them, like coming out of a daze.] I wouldn't mind going home and just forgetting. Blank slate. Drawing board.
no subject
And there isn't much left in her, emotionally, to even feel embarrassed. The remaining strength in her tired mind is too caught up in sadness, trailing in the wake of everything that's happened.
Her sobs continue to subside until they're just muffled breaths, her eyes puffy and her nose raw. And the jacket's covered in bloodstains, too.
She ends up staring at the discarded pack of cigarettes. The silence goes on a little as she tries to stretch it out, tries to regain her calm. It works, a little, but the anger and grief are still there, simmering. When she speaks her voice is soft, timid.]
...I hate this place so much, Frisk. [She looks at them, like coming out of a daze.] I wouldn't mind going home and just forgetting. Blank slate. Drawing board.