[There's a grumble for an answer, but he does sit and slope a little in his chair. It's very I'd rather not talk about it because of how everything's gone down but. Instead he stares forward for a long beat, before looking across and over to her.]
I'm probably back looking at rentals sooner than later.
You're welcome to... [ she gestures at the shed, sliding her sunglasses over her eyes again and leaning back in her chair. her hand rests lightly on the arm of the chair, inviting, like he can heal himself if he'd like.
I thought you'd have something better to do by now.
[Better than hanging out with grumpy old men or sitting alone on your farm with your stupid little goat. But who's he to tell her how to live her life, especially when she's lived so many other variations of it by now. As he sits he looks to her hand, and then to her.]
I don't know how to do this anymore. The caring about people thing. Everyone I knew died off and I thought I didn't have to worry about it anymore. I figured when I died I for sure didn't need to worry about it anymore. But here we are.
[ willa understands, to a certain degree. she dies so young every time that more often than not she is the one doing the leaving but then every lifetime she has to know new people, care about new people, people she will leave, people she won't get to keep. she has the knights, but even they drift apart. theo's fucked off to some cave by himself, fabian and pia seem like the first to disappear, lark... lark was never within reach but willa still tries. if it weren't for sylvie and emmet, willa would have fucked off the same as theo.
(that's what she tells herself, but it's not true. her power comes with a compulsion to help people, caring is painful when the people you love will die, no matter how hard you try to stop it, but love is brutal and necessary and willa perseveres. every lifetime.)
she hums, a soft agreement, eyes still closed because she's a coward. ]
I'm not asking you to be good at it. You don't even have to care, I already know I'm hard to tolerate. This can be entirely transactional if you want, I'll still heal you, no strings. But if you are going to, I don't know, fucking begrudgingly care about me, then... don't act like you don't. Just be my friend, or whatever.
[There's silence for a moment - she's giving him an out in more ways than one - an out of everything, an out from being walled up within himself. It's a lot to flip through and digest but they're probably a little too far past keeping it transactional or cutting anything off. Which is why he rubs his hand over his chin, grumbling something in the back of his throat as he looks away. He keeps his eyes off on the other side of the yard, and his voice is even and calm, slower than it needs to be:]
I don't act like - believe it or not, this is my fucking caring face.
[No bite, no growl, just - a sigh.]
I'm just not equipped to lose anyone else right now. So you'll have to pull through with your half of the agreement and not do anything stupid or dangerous if I can't do the same.
[ willa's lost track of how many times she has died, but they all have one thing in common and lark isn't here. as long as she is alive here, lark can't end the world and he can't kill them to start over because he is missing one piece. her thumb traces the line of her ring. she hates being parted from them, but maybe it's for the fucking best.
maybe she'll see what middle age looks like on this face finally. ]
[Every woman he's attracted to is by definition either irresponsible or too headstrong for her own good to the point where she might as well just be. He likes his women to be trouble. Maybe he just likes trouble. It's always trouble. He gives her a look to try and answer that without words.
[ finally she sits forward, elbow on the table to tuck her chin in her hand. the other remains waiting for him to take. ]
I have lived more lifetimes than you can imagine, especially if you keep looking at me like I'm a child compared to you. All those lifetimes and only one man has ever killed me and he isn't here.
[ he's the only person that always kills her. ]
I've never grown old before. I've never seen what I look like with grey hair or, or if I'll get wrinkles. Hopefully I stay smoking hot like Helen Mirren. But this is the only chance I'll get to find out, so. [ her shoulders hunch into an uncomfortable shrug, voice losing some steam because it isn't easy to talk about lives she's never gotten to life, despite how even and soft her tone remains. ] You really don't have to worry about me.
[Worry. About other people. When he wants to not care about them at all. It's then that he finally shifts, edging ever so close to taking her hand but hesitating at the skim of skin to skin. It's obvious he wants to pull away but they're trying to fight their instincts here. Or at least he is. He looks at her for a long, long moment.]
My wife never got to grow old either.
[So he sees that in her, too. Wants to protect it.]
[ they have that in common. willa would give anything to see sylvie's hair laced with silver or see if the laugh lines etch themselves permanently into emmet's smile, see wrinkles on fabian's face from age and not heartbreak. ]
[ willa chuffs a laugh, trailing off into a soft giggle. ]
People are always so surprised when I swear. I remembered everything when I was, um, six, so yes I've always been this weird, but my sister, who raised me, she always had to remind me not to swear in front of adults. [ a beat. ] She did let me swear at home.
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I'm probably back looking at rentals sooner than later.
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she closes her eyes, listening to her music. ]
You really thought I'd be out clubbing?
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[Better than hanging out with grumpy old men or sitting alone on your farm with your stupid little goat. But who's he to tell her how to live her life, especially when she's lived so many other variations of it by now. As he sits he looks to her hand, and then to her.]
I don't know how to do this anymore. The caring about people thing. Everyone I knew died off and I thought I didn't have to worry about it anymore. I figured when I died I for sure didn't need to worry about it anymore. But here we are.
[He cares about people again.]
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[ willa understands, to a certain degree. she dies so young every time that more often than not she is the one doing the leaving but then every lifetime she has to know new people, care about new people, people she will leave, people she won't get to keep. she has the knights, but even they drift apart. theo's fucked off to some cave by himself, fabian and pia seem like the first to disappear, lark... lark was never within reach but willa still tries. if it weren't for sylvie and emmet, willa would have fucked off the same as theo.
(that's what she tells herself, but it's not true. her power comes with a compulsion to help people, caring is painful when the people you love will die, no matter how hard you try to stop it, but love is brutal and necessary and willa perseveres. every lifetime.)
she hums, a soft agreement, eyes still closed because she's a coward. ]
I'm not asking you to be good at it. You don't even have to care, I already know I'm hard to tolerate. This can be entirely transactional if you want, I'll still heal you, no strings. But if you are going to, I don't know, fucking begrudgingly care about me, then... don't act like you don't. Just be my friend, or whatever.
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I don't act like - believe it or not, this is my fucking caring face.
[No bite, no growl, just - a sigh.]
I'm just not equipped to lose anyone else right now. So you'll have to pull through with your half of the agreement and not do anything stupid or dangerous if I can't do the same.
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maybe she'll see what middle age looks like on this face finally. ]
Do you think I'm particularly irresponsible?
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Then, deliberately slow. And very disingenuous:]
Of course not.
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I have lived more lifetimes than you can imagine, especially if you keep looking at me like I'm a child compared to you. All those lifetimes and only one man has ever killed me and he isn't here.
[ he's the only person that always kills her. ]
I've never grown old before. I've never seen what I look like with grey hair or, or if I'll get wrinkles. Hopefully I stay smoking hot like Helen Mirren. But this is the only chance I'll get to find out, so. [ her shoulders hunch into an uncomfortable shrug, voice losing some steam because it isn't easy to talk about lives she's never gotten to life, despite how even and soft her tone remains. ] You really don't have to worry about me.
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[Worry. About other people. When he wants to not care about them at all. It's then that he finally shifts, edging ever so close to taking her hand but hesitating at the skim of skin to skin. It's obvious he wants to pull away but they're trying to fight their instincts here. Or at least he is. He looks at her for a long, long moment.]
My wife never got to grow old either.
[So he sees that in her, too. Wants to protect it.]
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What was she like?
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[Always was, always will be - no offense, of course.]
Stubborn too, like you.
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[ she says, stubbornly. ]
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[Said with. Affection.]
Swear more, at least.
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People are always so surprised when I swear. I remembered everything when I was, um, six, so yes I've always been this weird, but my sister, who raised me, she always had to remind me not to swear in front of adults. [ a beat. ] She did let me swear at home.