[when she surfaces again from her small chasm of her own grief and dilapidated trust in anything the world may or may not have ready for her, wanda feels β exactly how she expects to feel.
tired.
it's never not this exhaustion that just pushes back down to the ground, keeps her trapped.
eventually her feet slide off the chair, landing lightly on the floor as she slumps on the chair. with a shaky sigh, she pushes herself upright again, pressing her hand to her face, brush off any tear stains.]
I'd like to see New York with you. [quietly, becauseβshe would, she really would.] Even if it was just one day.
no subject
tired.
it's never not this exhaustion that just pushes back down to the ground, keeps her trapped.
eventually her feet slide off the chair, landing lightly on the floor as she slumps on the chair. with a shaky sigh, she pushes herself upright again, pressing her hand to her face, brush off any tear stains.]
I'd like to see New York with you. [quietly, becauseβshe would, she really would.] Even if it was just one day.