“he doesn’t feel that way.” he had shook like a leaf and ran to cling to her, when it was over. she had held him close and brought him home as soon as the school allowed for them to leave, but whatever peace she had thought he might find in his sleep was lost, after the first nightmare caused him to wake. she hadn’t been able to soothe him, telepathically, her only option being to lie with him for the night - hoping, praying, that he might RECOVER QUICK. what had happened had done a number on them all. an ‘almost’ for max wasn’t good enough, because it never should have happened - to him, to scott, to her, to winnie. however taken aback she is by her words, emma takes them in her STRIDE. “i’m sure they had a lot to say.” she couldn’t imagine it not ; she hadn’t experienced what some had by way of illusions, but she imagined it had been a cruel and unusual sort of torture. and she felt… pity. it was strange, considering that winona hadn’t shied from her role in it’s death. but emma had made mistakes. she had done TERRIBLE things. if anyone could take it for what it was and think nothing less and little more, it was her. “none of it good, hm?”
❝ he wanted to die ? ❞ god, she’s never having fucking kids. fuck that, she thinks vehemently, though she knows it’s not true. she needs to have a child, someday, at some time. to inherit the falcone empire. she’s not leaving it to her siblings, that’s for sure. but she’s so afraid of everything that could happen. like them turning out like her. or them turning out like sofia. or them dying in the middle of a chemical attack against the town. these are things to consider. she doesn’t think she would make a good mother. ❝ oh, well, he got the last word in during all of his words with me. ❞ they swirl in her head in dizzying patterns. she wants to believe that everything she heard was a product of her imagination. that it wasn’t a real manifestation of dante beyond the grave. she was hallucinating. but it still feels so very real. it looked like dante and spoke like dante. she can’t bring herself to believe it wasn’t really dante. who’s to say it’s not exactly what he was thinking in his last moments ? she knows it’s what the thompkins think, even now. ❝ god, no. a lot of... y’know, sarcastic, biting remarks. which was worse. because it’s so him. ❞ what could be good ? him, what ? confessing that he felt the very same way as winona ? she can’t even voice her feelings to herself alone in his absence. he didn’t feel the same. he didn’t.
