What's done is done. Whether her other half lives or dies six feet under, it makes no different to 'Rey'. This goes much further than just getting her comeuppance. Death is a mercy. Mercy that something such as them have no right to earn in kind.
No, she is not entirely without a heart. A synthetic's body was always meant to withstand many things that would kill a normal human. If she knows what's best for her, Rey will know how to make use of her time and make it last.
Or she could be down there digging a hole through her own throat. For all 'Rey' cares, that might as well be the case.
There is just one last stop she has to make. A cord that has to be cut.
It's late at night when the door to House 1401 opens. Dirt tracks across the floor as 'Rey' makes her way into the bathroom. Her clothes are filthy. The shovel drags behind her, then she rests it against the wall before she starts running the water in the sink.
That scarred up face staring back at her in the mirror is identical to her counterpart in every way. From the intricate, deliberate marks to the shade of her hair, though darker now in both the light and the filth. She brings her hands over her head, running water through it and down her face. Soil begins to fill up the basin, and does not stop.
January 22nd (Closed to "Rey" and Nick Valentine)
No, she is not entirely without a heart. A synthetic's body was always meant to withstand many things that would kill a normal human. If she knows what's best for her, Rey will know how to make use of her time and make it last.
Or she could be down there digging a hole through her own throat. For all 'Rey' cares, that might as well be the case.
There is just one last stop she has to make. A cord that has to be cut.
It's late at night when the door to House 1401 opens. Dirt tracks across the floor as 'Rey' makes her way into the bathroom. Her clothes are filthy. The shovel drags behind her, then she rests it against the wall before she starts running the water in the sink.
That scarred up face staring back at her in the mirror is identical to her counterpart in every way. From the intricate, deliberate marks to the shade of her hair, though darker now in both the light and the filth. She brings her hands over her head, running water through it and down her face. Soil begins to fill up the basin, and does not stop.