[It's been a little while since the zombie family dinner, but Georgia hasn't forgotten her little slip-up, or that Clementine had definitely caught it. She's been busy, but now she finally clears the time to text Clementine and know she'll be able to pay attention if this conversation needs it.]
[It's telling maybe that Clementine doesn't have to ask what it is. It's been on her mind. Impossible for it not to be on her mind. Georgia won't have to be an only child, and there's really only one reason for that. She only hasn't asked out of respect for Georgia, not wanting to approach a subject that would be hard or painful if she didn't want to talk about it. She figures people can do what they want with that sort of information even if it's holding it close to their chest and never talking about it.]
Yes. I haven't experienced it yet, obviously, but Shaun has. He filled me in on the details.
[It isn't a secret. Georgia keeps very few secrets. The only reason she doesn't advertise her dead girl status more is that she doesn't want anyone's fucking pity. She made her choices. And she may never have wanted to be a martyr, but she can't think of a single thing she'd change, even if she had the opportunity. She told the truth. Right up until it killed her. And it might not have been worth it, but there was no other path she would have accepted.]
[People die. It's a fact. It's a terrible fact. When zombies are around, people die all the time, but it doesn't stop it from hurting to know she can include Georgia in that. Everyone dies eventually, but- but. It still hurts like hell. Maybe one day it won't anymore.
She swallows thickly, rubs at her face. There's a long pause before she replies but Georgia doesn't need her tears, and Clementine never knows what to do with them anyway.]
[They've talked about shooting each other if the other one ever dies here like it's a mercy, and it is. No one wants to become one of those things. She shot Lee so he wouldn't have to turn. She shot him before he turned. It's worse than death to become a walker, a zombie.]
Here I thought having a government was a good thing. They tried to stop you from telling the truth.
It's still better than the alternative. And while the conspiracy goes deep, it doesn't touch everyone. And you can kill me, but you can't kill the truth.
[No matter how hard some people try.]
No. Shaun would never let that happen to me. I got my last article out, then he shot me. Then he shot the bastard who ordered the hit. I'm lucky to have him.
[Clementine shuts her eyes tight, rubs her face. She's never thought so much about the truth before. It's always been about surviving, and Georgia seems so- so accepting of what happens. It's hard for Clementine to wrap her head around. It's a combination of this anger surging up inside of her and this pain at the thought that Georgia still dies in a future which is more hopeful than what she knows, but it's still shitty cause of zombies, cause of people.
There are no easy answers, and she knows what it is like to shoot someone you love so she feels for Shaun.]
I'm alive. And as long as I'm here, I'll stay that way.
[Not an actual answer to the question, but it's as much as she can admit to. She doesn't want to lie to Clementine, even though emotions are the one thing she's ever allowed herself to lie about (she's fine), but she can't admit how much this shakes her. That much vulnerability, only Shaun can see, and even he doesn't get it very often.]
Your feelings are important even if I get it's not easy to talk about, and I don't expect you to. You can do whatever the hell you want with how you feel.
[She certainly doesn't have to open up to her, and it's what Clementine is trying to express as she types her message. She learned how to type here. When the apocalypse happened, she had never typed before at all, but she's been working at it here in Wonderland.
Sometimes conversations are easier had that way especially when they hurt.]
Of course. I don't keep secrets as a rule. [Except that one that Clementine is definitely not going to be told.] The only reason it's not common knowledge is that some people might take it the wrong way.
You don't? Seems like everyone keeps secrets. [Clementine does too. It's safer that way. It helps her control the situation.] Take it the wrong way how?
I get why you wouldn't want to share it with anyone.
But I don't think anyone would pity you, and if they did, I'd punch them in their face. You died how you wanted telling the truth. It's still shitty as fuck, but it doesn't take away from who you are right now, Gerogia. I hate you did. Die.
But it doesn't. Screw anyone who'd pity you for doing what you believe in.
[She isn't quite right. It's not how Georgia wanted to die. She didn't want to die at all. She wanted to keep living and keep writing and not leave Shaun alone. Ever.]
Thank you, Clementine. I'm going to continue to treat it as I have been: discussing it if it comes up, but not making a particular effort to bring up the topic.
[Nobody wants to die but everyone does. It's terrible. She wishes Georgia could have lived longer, could have lived to the proper way for someone to die. Is that old age? She doesn't know. She's never experienced that death but all the rest, she's seen. Clementine wants her own death to be quick, to be for a reason like saving someone else.]
That sounds like a good way to handle it. I won't tell anyone. It's yours to talk about or to not talk about, and for what it's worth, I think it's total bullshit that you die. I hate it a lot.
[This is probably the part where she should assure Clementine that she's glad she's here too, that she doesn't want to go back to her fucked up world. But she can't. It's too complicated to really be the truth, and Georgia doesn't lie.]
Pretty sure every world's a little fucked up. I'm not sure things were actually that much better pre-Rising. All we can do is try to use our time to make it a little less fucked.
That's why I do what I do. Get rid of the lies, get rid of the fear, give people the tools to rise up and break free.
I'm not going to be any good at that in my own world.. You seem sorta like a hero to me, and I'm not there. But I want to help to make things better here. It's why I'm going to need your help writing once I get all the information together. I haven't been in school in a really long time, and when I was, we weren't writing articles. It's important this is good so people can stay alive and be stronger and better so they can survive.
And you're the journalist. You'll know what I do right and wrong. So never hold back with me, Georgia. I know how important it is to get it right.
[Oh, this precious child. Georgia doesn't consider herself to be a particularly maternal person, and it's not like she's suddenly consumed with the need to start procreating, but she does feel a twinge of... something. Some sort of fondness and protectiveness. She wants to keep Clementine safe and help her grow as both a person and a writer. Goddammit, Shaun's going to make fun of her.
She doesn't feel like a hero. She's not like her parents, who she may hate but she knows were heroes of the Rising. She never meant to give her life to a cause, even if that cause was getting out the truth. She doesn't know the first thing about how to be a hero to a kid who looks up for her. She's pretty sure the first step isn't disagreeing about whether she is one or not.]
I never hold back. [Her critiques are as honest as everything else she does. Anything less would be insulting.] And I commend you for tackling it even though it's hard and out of your usual skill set. That's how you learn. And I am happy to help with the process.
[A beat. She sends a follow-up text.]
We never really got to the point where we thought about hiring interns for our site back home. If you want the position here, though, I can talk to Shaun.
[More of a formality than anything else. Even more so than usual, where Shaun trusts her judgment, here their site doesn't even exist as it should. Still, it seems like the thing to offer.]
[Emotion wells up in her sharply, acutely at the offer. She hasn't thought much about anything beyond surviving for so long. It's hard to think she could have been given a purpose beyond that, beyond fighting from one moment to the next in this whole other world, which traps most of the people dragged into it. It doesn't feel like a trap to her. It feels like a possibility of being more than the girl with blood on her hands.
And she's been given it by someone who Clementine already admires so much, someone who believes in something bigger than herself, who believes in making the world better, who died because of that belief, and that will always hurt like hell to think about, because someone as Good as Georgia should live to do more good and to better the world even more.
There's a pause in any response because she's almost too overwhelmed to do so (stumbling over questions of Can I? more than anything else. Can she make the world better? How many people are dead because of her? What did Carver say? He compared her to him. They're the strong ones. They're the ones that can make the decisions about who lives or dies for the good of the group, what to share and what not to share--
She types out the response quick before fear prevents her from answering with what she wants.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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If you want to ask about it you can.
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Do you die back where you're from?
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[It isn't a secret. Georgia keeps very few secrets. The only reason she doesn't advertise her dead girl status more is that she doesn't want anyone's fucking pity. She made her choices. And she may never have wanted to be a martyr, but she can't think of a single thing she'd change, even if she had the opportunity. She told the truth. Right up until it killed her. And it might not have been worth it, but there was no other path she would have accepted.]
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She swallows thickly, rubs at her face. There's a long pause before she replies but Georgia doesn't need her tears, and Clementine never knows what to do with them anyway.]
What happens?
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[In case Clementine forgets, or if she hasn't told her. Unlike at home, she can't assume everyone will know.]
Not many girls get "Assassinated to cover up a government conspiracy" written on their wall entry. Guess I'm pretty special.
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[They've talked about shooting each other if the other one ever dies here like it's a mercy, and it is. No one wants to become one of those things. She shot Lee so he wouldn't have to turn. She shot him before he turned. It's worse than death to become a walker, a zombie.]
Here I thought having a government was a good thing. They tried to stop you from telling the truth.
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[No matter how hard some people try.]
No. Shaun would never let that happen to me. I got my last article out, then he shot me. Then he shot the bastard who ordered the hit. I'm lucky to have him.
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There are no easy answers, and she knows what it is like to shoot someone you love so she feels for Shaun.]
I'm glad that fucker didn't get away with it.
Are you okay?
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[Not an actual answer to the question, but it's as much as she can admit to. She doesn't want to lie to Clementine, even though emotions are the one thing she's ever allowed herself to lie about (she's fine), but she can't admit how much this shakes her. That much vulnerability, only Shaun can see, and even he doesn't get it very often.]
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[She certainly doesn't have to open up to her, and it's what Clementine is trying to express as she types her message. She learned how to type here. When the apocalypse happened, she had never typed before at all, but she's been working at it here in Wonderland.
Sometimes conversations are easier had that way especially when they hurt.]
Thank you for telling me.
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Re: text
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I don't want anyone pitying me.
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But I don't think anyone would pity you, and if they did, I'd punch them in their face. You died how you wanted telling the truth. It's still shitty as fuck, but it doesn't take away from who you are right now, Gerogia. I hate you did. Die.
But it doesn't. Screw anyone who'd pity you for doing what you believe in.
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Thank you, Clementine. I'm going to continue to treat it as I have been: discussing it if it comes up, but not making a particular effort to bring up the topic.
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That sounds like a good way to handle it. I won't tell anyone. It's yours to talk about or to not talk about, and for what it's worth, I think it's total bullshit that you die. I hate it a lot.
That's not pity. It just. Is.
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But you're not wrong. It is total bullshit. And I hate it too.
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Total bullshit. The world's fucked up. Yours, mine, this one too, but I'm glad you're here.
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Pretty sure every world's a little fucked up. I'm not sure things were actually that much better pre-Rising. All we can do is try to use our time to make it a little less fucked.
That's why I do what I do. Get rid of the lies, get rid of the fear, give people the tools to rise up and break free.
text
I'm not going to be any good at that in my own world.. You seem sorta like a hero to me, and I'm not there. But I want to help to make things better here. It's why I'm going to need your help writing once I get all the information together. I haven't been in school in a really long time, and when I was, we weren't writing articles. It's important this is good so people can stay alive and be stronger and better so they can survive.
And you're the journalist. You'll know what I do right and wrong. So never hold back with me, Georgia. I know how important it is to get it right.
text
She doesn't feel like a hero. She's not like her parents, who she may hate but she knows were heroes of the Rising. She never meant to give her life to a cause, even if that cause was getting out the truth. She doesn't know the first thing about how to be a hero to a kid who looks up for her. She's pretty sure the first step isn't disagreeing about whether she is one or not.]
I never hold back. [Her critiques are as honest as everything else she does. Anything less would be insulting.] And I commend you for tackling it even though it's hard and out of your usual skill set. That's how you learn. And I am happy to help with the process.
[A beat. She sends a follow-up text.]
We never really got to the point where we thought about hiring interns for our site back home. If you want the position here, though, I can talk to Shaun.
[More of a formality than anything else. Even more so than usual, where Shaun trusts her judgment, here their site doesn't even exist as it should. Still, it seems like the thing to offer.]
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[Emotion wells up in her sharply, acutely at the offer. She hasn't thought much about anything beyond surviving for so long. It's hard to think she could have been given a purpose beyond that, beyond fighting from one moment to the next in this whole other world, which traps most of the people dragged into it. It doesn't feel like a trap to her. It feels like a possibility of being more than the girl with blood on her hands.
And she's been given it by someone who Clementine already admires so much, someone who believes in something bigger than herself, who believes in making the world better, who died because of that belief, and that will always hurt like hell to think about, because someone as Good as Georgia should live to do more good and to better the world even more.
There's a pause in any response because she's almost too overwhelmed to do so (stumbling over questions of Can I? more than anything else. Can she make the world better? How many people are dead because of her? What did Carver say? He compared her to him. They're the strong ones. They're the ones that can make the decisions about who lives or dies for the good of the group, what to share and what not to share--
She types out the response quick before fear prevents her from answering with what she wants.]
Really?
Yes. I want it.
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Let me know if you have any more questions or if you need help.