[maybe it's the sight of someone she likes in distress. maybe it's the way he says it - his gestures evoking the scene clear enough - this is something recent, something that may be more beneath his weariness (and wariness) than even the blood effects. maybe it's because it needles at her own personal demons, the ones she once laid at the feet of her sister, the ones she's trying to shoulder herself - the ones that several people (sansa especially. saeri. eden comes to mind long enough to tell her shes being an idiot) whatever it is, it closes her throat so she can't reply right away.
maybe that's for the best. it's why her own eyes shine as she watches him wordlessly, one hand clenching only loosely and worrying fingers against palm until the other one covers it and stills the gesture. she swallows thickly, following the tears in their descent and leaving her gaze there as it blurs.
she's learned to just listen. it hasn't been easy. there's too much of her that wants to jump in and fix everything - for just about everyone - but this is done and gone and over and probably not from a book of memories. she can't be sure, but call it a hunch.
she'd heard benzo die (ekko watched that, the whole thing. i saw everything he'd said) - she'd watched vander die - mylo, claggor - (you left her) - and then she'd watched her sister nuke the council building presumably with her (?) girlfriend's mother and a whole host of people (viktor, jayce) inside (you let her) - and it's just like he says. can't do anything. can't change it. it's something she's just gotta live with.
she gets the disgust. the anger. the useless, sickening cavern of the nothing that can be done about it.
she lets her own tears fall unchecked - they've come before, they'll come again. it's hard to say who they're for. robby. herself. the dead. the living. maybe it's all of them.
she only opens her hands, looks up but doesn't rise, not yet - though she's ready to, and that might be obvious. should he move toward her, she'll do the same, and maybe it won't help anything at all. should he not, she'll stay where she is, but either way, she'll say, very softly:]
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maybe that's for the best. it's why her own eyes shine as she watches him wordlessly, one hand clenching only loosely and worrying fingers against palm until the other one covers it and stills the gesture. she swallows thickly, following the tears in their descent and leaving her gaze there as it blurs.
she's learned to just listen. it hasn't been easy. there's too much of her that wants to jump in and fix everything - for just about everyone - but this is done and gone and over and probably not from a book of memories. she can't be sure, but call it a hunch.
she'd heard benzo die (ekko watched that, the whole thing. i saw everything he'd said) - she'd watched vander die - mylo, claggor - (you left her) - and then she'd watched her sister nuke the council building presumably with her (?) girlfriend's mother and a whole host of people (viktor, jayce) inside (you let her) - and it's just like he says. can't do anything. can't change it. it's something she's just gotta live with.
she gets the disgust. the anger. the useless, sickening cavern of the nothing that can be done about it.
she lets her own tears fall unchecked - they've come before, they'll come again. it's hard to say who they're for. robby. herself. the dead. the living. maybe it's all of them.
she only opens her hands, looks up but doesn't rise, not yet - though she's ready to, and that might be obvious. should he move toward her, she'll do the same, and maybe it won't help anything at all. should he not, she'll stay where she is, but either way, she'll say, very softly:]
It sucks so much, and I'm so fucking sorry.