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Out, out, out, she has to get it out of her head and stop for just a little-
Katarina swings her hoe with perhaps a little bit more force than necessary, gritting her teeth and ignoring the jolt that shivers along her spine as she hits a rock. It's good that it's spring. It's a lovely spring and the sun is shining and the birds are singing and everything is ending, is going to end, is-
She stares critically at the dirt. There's some worms. Those are good. The soil quality has always been good here. It makes for good squash and things. Absently, she wipes some sweat from her forehead.
(She feels the teeming thoughts begin to bubble up again and she doesn't know why she's here, why she's doing this, it's wasting time, she's always wasting time, but the field calls to her and she must always go even though she knows she shouldn't be wasting ti-)
Well, time to continue! Katarina grins like baring teeth and swings her hoe again, the familiar wood smooth in her hands. The smell of the soil fills her nose, and the chill of early spring whispers across her skin. Her clothes are comforting, a place and armor in which she cannot be harmed, because who ever heard of Katarina Claes getting killed in a fieldworker's uniform? She is immortal as long as she's out here.
(I am going to die, she does not think.)
(The school year is ending, she thinks.)
A call rings out from the direction of the school building. "Katarina-sama?"
It's Mary.
Katarina stuffs the electricity running through her limbs back into her bones and tries to be a little more still. (A little less frantic.)
It takes her longer than she thought, though, and before she can reply, Mary is already stepping into view. Katarina picks up her usual smile, letting it crowd out the toothsome grin on her lips; it rises to meet her much more easily than it had this morning.
Her hands are not shaking, but she steadies them on her hoe anyway, planting it in the dirt and leaning against it for a moment.
She should have replied by now, she realizes, as Mary slows her approach. She opens her mouth-
"Ah," Mary says, eyes softening, voice gentling. Katarina flinches the tiniest bit, greeting catching in her throat. Something about that "Ah" rings in her ears, a seiyū's power spanning whole lifetimes, the same sound of revelation Katarina has heard fifteen times or more, playing through Alan's route, whenever Mary hears of something Maria has done to charm him. Has Katarina done something? But the fields are supposed to be safe, and Mary isn't Katarina, she's not the sort of rival to attack someone with a knife, is she?
"I just came to let you know that I'll bring you some tea and sweets in an hour and a half, Katarina-sama." Mary's voice is quiet, much quieter than normal, and now she sounds nothing like her seiyū. She sounds- a lot like she did when they first met, actually. Katarina feels something ease from her shoulders. Still, her brow furrows a little.
"Are you sure? But you looked like you were coming to find me for something, Mary?" she can't help but ask. She feels the static building up again in her fingertips and ignores it.
Mary steps forward and sweeps Katarina into a sudden, tight hug, heedless of the dirt on Katarina's clothes. It's nice. A little confusing, but nice. Katarina blinks a few times, but brings one hand away from her hoe to wrap an arm around Mary in return. She feels still, somehow, for just this moment.
"No, that was all, Katarina-sama," Mary lies quietly, but that's okay; Katarina has changed her mind or forgotten what she was doing plenty of times after going somewhere to speak with someone. It happens.
Just as Katarina feels that lightning in her bones start trying to escape again, Mary lets her go.
Mary smiles at her, an expression that's still curiously soft, different than normal.
"I'll be back in an hour and a half with sweets and tea, Katarina-sama," she promises again. "Take care."
Mary leaves much more quietly than she'd entered, stepping softly across the ground. Katarina watches her go for a moment, still a little puzzled, until-
-she turns on instinct, hefting her hoe again without a thought, that static feeling escaping from her grasp, making her move, because there's still something in her that says she has to do something-
The birds are singing and the sun is shining and the smell of soil fills the air, as the steady thump of her movements reverberate through her body, crowding out the clamor of her thoughts.
The chill spring air whispers immortality across her skin.