[It is a strange moment, for how unfathomably inhuman Kara is. Code, and components, and machine-like logic in place of tissue and the colorful chaos of human thought. He doesn't have a word for her in his vocabulary, because there's nothing quite like her in his world. Of course, he could borrow the term from her memories (android), but the closest comparable thing in his memories is a mimic. Except no mimic had imitated human life so well as to be human.
That's the thing, as he catches his breath there on the ground, hand propped on his knee to hold him up. That hadn't just been a mimicry. That had been real. Real human pain. Loss. The same despairing readiness to end it all he'd felt lying on the satin covers of a bed counting the bars of his prison.
The physical pain is negligible--if it had just been that, he could have ignored it, but--
It hurts, and not just from the phantom cold settling into limbs. It hurts in an unprotected way he hasn't let himself feel in some time. A few days. A few days is all it takes to drill into the box he's been stuffing his feelings down into for years.
Her voice takes him by surprise; he hadn't heard her approach. M.K., pale and chill from a winter's day and a swim in frigid water that hadn't happened to him, lifts his head, lifts his head to look at her. Her voice sounds different now that he's back in his own body, but the heavy sadness is the same.]
no subject
That's the thing, as he catches his breath there on the ground, hand propped on his knee to hold him up. That hadn't just been a mimicry. That had been real. Real human pain. Loss. The same despairing readiness to end it all he'd felt lying on the satin covers of a bed counting the bars of his prison.
The physical pain is negligible--if it had just been that, he could have ignored it, but--
It hurts, and not just from the phantom cold settling into limbs. It hurts in an unprotected way he hasn't let himself feel in some time. A few days. A few days is all it takes to drill into the box he's been stuffing his feelings down into for years.
Her voice takes him by surprise; he hadn't heard her approach. M.K., pale and chill from a winter's day and a swim in frigid water that hadn't happened to him, lifts his head, lifts his head to look at her. Her voice sounds different now that he's back in his own body, but the heavy sadness is the same.]
That was you, wasn't it?