A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent.

[very_sharpe]

[May 21: Truth Plot]

Thomas is rather shaken.

After his morning shower, he dressed and set out for a day of errands, feeling rather good. He has things that he's working on, progress he's making. He notices a few people staring as he goes about his day, but pays it little mind at first.

He recalls a message that appeared on his phone a few days ago: The Truth will set you free.

Thomas doubts that, sincerely, as being here has helped him to escape several rather painful truths tied to his old life. He wants so badly to create a fresh start here. But he really cannot help but notice people are... really staring. Whispering if he stands still too long. What is going on? He checks himself in a shop window, but can't see anything out of place.

It gets bad enough that Thomas nearly has a panic attack and finds a wall to lean into, attempting to ground himself a bit. He needs a moment to breathe, that's all. He's heard someone whisper, Murderer. How could they possibly...?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he swears he hears Lucille laughing.

Comments

[ghostsarereal]

Perhaps the question shouldn't be so unexpected. Perhaps she should have seen this coming, the two of them being alone here, the subject at hand so fraught. They've been dancing around it for months, or at least it feels that way now that they've addressed it so directly. That was never going to be able to last forever, and there were always going to be other things that came up in conjunction with it. Edith can't pretend she hasn't spent a great deal of time thinking about it, too, trying to parse how she feels and what everything that's happened means, where they go from here when their situation is such an unorthodox one.

He'd had a hand in killing all those other women, and in almost killing her, too. Maybe it should be just as simple as that. It never has been, though, and everything he's said today has only ensured that stays the case.

"I don't think I ever stopped," she says, thoughtful, as much to herself as to him. "I don't know that we ever get that much say in the matter." It's not like it's as simple as choosing to flip a switch, loving someone one day and deciding not to the next. It's complicated and messy and involuntary and nothing at all like she'd once imagined. Then again, nothing really turned out like she thought it would. She never expected she would wind up in a place like this, either, and the only thing there's been to do is adjust.

[very_sharpe]

Thomas looks up, feeling a flutter in him he thought he would need to hide away again. "I suppose we don't," he answers, a bit breathless. "But one can choose whether or not to act on those feelings."

Perhaps he ought not have said that, but he would never want her to feel-- to feel obliged. He cares for her - loves her - enough that he wants her to be happy, whatever that means. He can hope, of course.

"I'd forgotten what hope felt like before meeting you, Edith."

[ghostsarereal]

"I suppose one can," Edith says softly, as if only just realizing that herself. It only stands to reason, of course — it works the same way anything else does — but it's strange to consider, too, in terms as simple as that. In all the time they've both been here, trying to parse what they are to each other has never seemed to her to be anything other than painfully complicated, but maybe that isn't the case. Maybe, at least, it doesn't have to be.

As tempting as it might be, though, if she is going to act on it, this doesn't seem like the time. Emotions are running too high. She understands what's written on his back about as well as she thinks anyone could, but the circumstances that brought him here still aren't lost to her, and she doesn't think it would be right, doing something now, prompted in part by all of that. Whatever she's made her peace with, the dead — the women who weren't as lucky as her — deserve better than that.

Looking over at him, she asks, "But you remember now?"

[very_sharpe]

"Yes. I hope to make a better life here, to be the person I could have been if not for-- for what I did. What I allowed to happen."

Thomas wants badly to have a life, a real one, out from beneath the specter of his past, away from Lucille's smothering presence. He has a chance here, he has to believe he can make something of it. A simple, quiet life doesn't seem like a bad future.

[ghostsarereal]

"You can," Edith says, clear certainty in her voice. "You are." As startled as she'd been to see him when he showed up here, she had known from the start that this could only be a good opportunity for him, a chance to get away from the life he had before. If it's been such an adjustment for her, she can only imagine that the same is true for him, too, but it's still a fresh start, and she'd warrant a much needed one. "As far as I can tell, that's what you've done since you got here."

[very_sharpe]

"Making a good go of it anyway." He offers her a small, hopeful smile. "Thank you, Edith. I know I've said it a hundred times already but... your kindness means the world to me. It has since we met."

[ghostsarereal]

She'd like to say that she's only doing what anyone else would, but Edith knows that isn't strictly the case. The people who've been in Thomas' own life are proof enough of that. Instead, she just smiles, small and understanding. "If it helps, I don't plan on doing otherwise any time soon."