[ Lottie is tempted to cut in somewhere that, no, she didn't die. She just went into a coma and had to get reconstructive plastic surgery for her face or something, not that she knows and kept track of her recovery or anything.. Because she didn't. She finds out she doesn't have to clarify anything — Toko is in her own sort of melancholy world that she doesn't think she can interrupt.
Or at least, interrupt without sounding as smart and poetic as she does. A lot of what she says flies over her head at first, but she thinks she understands. It's a concept Lottie battles with virtually all the time: the real Lottie Person and the fake Lottie Person. The one she has to constantly show to the public to try and reel in her image as much as she can from ruin, because it's either going to be herself that does it in or her inconsiderate friends. Her ex. Caroline, who clearly doesn't mind murdering or cajoling her into her worst. The list goes on.
Some small part of her likes to think that people can sympathize. It's not like she's Beyonce or Rihanna.. Most of her fanbase are women and all of them call her "Mom". But she's moderated, curated, her comment sections enough to know people can turn on her easily. That when rumors spread about her and her ex boyfriend splitting up circulated there was equal amounts of catty glee and sadness about what could be.
She stirs and stews and sits in this feelings, the reminder that her life isn't so simple — certainly isn't right now — and that this girl is really literate when she's drunk (go figure). It makes her wonder what kind of media she's consumed to slap this all together, to make being an influencer sound.. Important. Like it actually means something to people other than a pretty face to look at, because Lottie knows she has a pretty face. Has been advertising said face for eight years until she started gaining traction.
Quietly, silently, she halfheartedly slaps (a more dejected, depressed pat) of Toko's hand away from the drink. She doesn't take the easy solution of drinking it herself to stop the teen (it messes with her allergy medication, as tempting as it is), so she instead draws the mug closer to the wall. Right by the edge of the table and out of sight. And then, she heaves a sigh, carefully rubs at her face to remind herself.. She doesn't know, shit happens. She says aloud, not really wanting a response because she can't figure one out for the life of her she'd like: ]
Everybody wants what they can't have, right?
[ Like, they want to get off this train but for some reason they can't. And Lottie wants to be someone with the capacity to care for people longer than it takes to paint her nails, but for some reason she can't. There's a long moment where she snaps out of her own self spiral, stares at Toko and the small way she curls into herself — ]
no subject
Or at least, interrupt without sounding as smart and poetic as she does. A lot of what she says flies over her head at first, but she thinks she understands. It's a concept Lottie battles with virtually all the time: the real Lottie Person and the fake Lottie Person. The one she has to constantly show to the public to try and reel in her image as much as she can from ruin, because it's either going to be herself that does it in or her inconsiderate friends. Her ex. Caroline, who clearly doesn't mind murdering or cajoling her into her worst. The list goes on.
Some small part of her likes to think that people can sympathize. It's not like she's Beyonce or Rihanna.. Most of her fanbase are women and all of them call her "Mom". But she's moderated, curated, her comment sections enough to know people can turn on her easily. That when rumors spread about her and her ex boyfriend splitting up circulated there was equal amounts of catty glee and sadness about what could be.
She stirs and stews and sits in this feelings, the reminder that her life isn't so simple — certainly isn't right now — and that this girl is really literate when she's drunk (go figure). It makes her wonder what kind of media she's consumed to slap this all together, to make being an influencer sound.. Important. Like it actually means something to people other than a pretty face to look at, because Lottie knows she has a pretty face. Has been advertising said face for eight years until she started gaining traction.
Quietly, silently, she halfheartedly slaps (a more dejected, depressed pat) of Toko's hand away from the drink. She doesn't take the easy solution of drinking it herself to stop the teen (it messes with her allergy medication, as tempting as it is), so she instead draws the mug closer to the wall. Right by the edge of the table and out of sight. And then, she heaves a sigh, carefully rubs at her face to remind herself.. She doesn't know, shit happens. She says aloud, not really wanting a response because she can't figure one out for the life of her she'd like: ]
Everybody wants what they can't have, right?
[ Like, they want to get off this train but for some reason they can't. And Lottie wants to be someone with the capacity to care for people longer than it takes to paint her nails, but for some reason she can't. There's a long moment where she snaps out of her own self spiral, stares at Toko and the small way she curls into herself — ]
C'mon. Where are you staying right now?