The first sentence prompted what would've become a small and very crooked smile, but the expression fell from Sam's face before it finished forming; the next six words had her stopped cold, a very small oh, (small even for the small part of her which was almost always weighing favours against IOUs, risks against rewards, allies, and assets, what-ifs and and-thens in the back of her mind, a little voice like a radio in another room) echoing in her, and when Joyce finished speaking, she looked like she'd be sick.
She let her hands fall from Joyce's shoulders before smoothing both over her own hair, drawing a deep beath and cupping her elbows in her hands before she explained; “In that last letter, what Will said was 'I don't feel like myself anymore.' I hauled ass here to look at him, cause the things I see, I can't see over a screen. Now I know I was right to flip shit, but... there's good news?” Now she did manage a smile, though it was uncertain and didn't last long.
“There's nothing in his aura I shouldn't be seeing, nothing like---” And for a moment, frustration elbowed the dread and stale horror aside, because finding words for the things like this can be so hellaciously hard. Sam shut her eyes and fisted her hands, continuing carefully. “You know how, if a person just pulls a tick off, the head can be left behind? There's nothing like that here. What I saw when I got in and got a look at your kid? Was Will. Worn down, worn out, with healing to do, but wholly him.”
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girl's night, wine and tilts, practical magic up in here
Date: 2019-10-22 03:29 am (UTC)She let her hands fall from Joyce's shoulders before smoothing both over her own hair, drawing a deep beath and cupping her elbows in her hands before she explained; “In that last letter, what Will said was 'I don't feel like myself anymore.' I hauled ass here to look at him, cause the things I see, I can't see over a screen. Now I know I was right to flip shit, but... there's good news?” Now she did manage a smile, though it was uncertain and didn't last long.
“There's nothing in his aura I shouldn't be seeing, nothing like---” And for a moment, frustration elbowed the dread and stale horror aside, because finding words for the things like this can be so hellaciously hard. Sam shut her eyes and fisted her hands, continuing carefully. “You know how, if a person just pulls a tick off, the head can be left behind? There's nothing like that here. What I saw when I got in and got a look at your kid? Was Will. Worn down, worn out, with healing to do, but wholly him.”