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Doors Halloween (doorsween) wrote in doorslogs,

Re: second floor ; smoking
"Honesty is more valuable than any bauble," she said, that particular truth foreign to the life she normally lead. "Honesty when freely given," she corrected, because she knew violence happened beyond the safety of a Hollywood soundstage. Honesty could be dragged out of a person in terrible ways, and she shuddered to think of it. Young though she was, she did not have any of the naivete natural to her few years. "Trusting someone enough to be honest with them, that's the hardest of riches to acquire. That is life's great secret," she said, imparting a wisdom beyond her years. It was a truth she knew well, and she was not often honest. Tonight was different, and something about this man made him different. "Extreme circumstances are rarely good," she said in invitation. He could tell her of those circumstances, should he wish to; she would carry his secret to the grave much sooner than she realized. "Loneliness never ceases to matter," she added with a slight and guarded lean toward him. "It only becomes easier to ignore." She would have touched him then, but the movement was beginning to wear on her, and even she could not deny it.

"Think you that we can change the world?" she asked when he suggested little girls be taught otherwise. She didn't think it possible. She had not memory of being taught anything, and yet she had learned the lesson as well as anyone. "Your mother did a fine job. You've been very gentlemanly this evening. I will share a secret with you, shall I? I like gentlemen better than rakes." Her smile was sympathetic when she continued. It was genuine sympathy, not the exaggerated thing that looked like sympathy when captured on film, and not that awkward and uncomfortable sympathy that came with not knowing what to say. "Has she been gone long, your mother?" Ah, but the question about whether her life was what she had chosen, that was a complicated one, and she took a moment to collect her thoughts. "I chose this, but I did not choose the path that led me here. I only chose what to do once I'd arrived."

"Living comes with vulnerability," she countered. "You're a brave man. You fight for a cause, and I wager that you risk your life for it. Risking your heart is harder, but I hope it can be just as fulfilling." She grinned. "But what do I know? I just wished to be loved without limits, but I am not. I am honest when I say I would exchange all the diamonds I own for love, but I do not pretend that it would be anything like the storybooks." The words belonged to the dying woman on the chair, and they belonged to the woman she normally was. Unsaid things finally being given voice, and she didn't see the harm in it here.

She watched as he brought her hand to her lips, though her increasingly blurred vision was making it harder to make out his features. "I hope you don't think it impertinent of me to ask, but would you move your chair closer?" she asked, and then she laughed a carefree laugh that was weak for all its lack of concern. "You would be content to leave everything behind for a life spent on this ship? I do not think so, bello. Eventually, you would leave me here and find your way." She did not speak of watery graves, because weakness made focusing on such things harder. Perhaps that was a blessing.