#lore97: dina.

[cordysep]

@lore97: brush. / dina.

the theatre is quiet, and ellie’s noticed that the only time it’s not is when the squeaking of floorboards shift slightly under her feet. they tend to allow each other to just be in their company - she thinks it’s because dina doesn’t know what to say, or if there’s anything she can say, because ellie’s shoulders slump forward and she stares over at the abandoned guitar like it’s the reason she’s here. (it was a good find - fuck, it was a great find. but she touches over the strings and she just hears joel’s laugh in her head. well, what’re the chances of that, kiddo? they would laugh, and joel’d play something stupid and old-worldy.)

they don’t have to talk. they’ve both sacrificed comfort and waking up neck-pain-free for the past few months, and the lumpy couch in the back of the theatre really hasn’t helped a single fucking bit, but when ellie sits up and rolls her neck with an arched stretch in her back, dina follows her and they sit for a while. ellie carefully reaches out for her hand and once she finds it, she sits them both in her lap and the theatre is quiet again.

hey... she hears the exertion when dina reaches out for the brush on the side - it’s a quiet, stubborn ngh born from the comb being slightly out of reach, but she finds it eventually and starts with her fingers. (it’s gentle. dina slides her fingers through the knotted mess at the back of her head before following the same thread with the comb.)

           “thanks.”    it’s hoarse, but ellie shifts so dina can reach and, well, it’s been a hot sec since she’s done anything since tie her hair back and hope for the best.       “can’t sleep. don’t know why i thought i’d be able to.”