But... it's okay. I want to talk about things with you. Even if it's difficult, or painful, I can get to know you better. If I want to comfort you, that's my choice, too.
[She didn't make him respond that way. He simply cared as a matter of course, and it's better than the alternative of discussing nothing at all. One of his legs moves to settle against a foreleg, as if to offer further comfort, more of his presence.]
Let's just take things a little at a time. You can come back here whenever you want, and I'll be here. [So anything she wants to say, do, express... She can do it when she's ready. This isn't like when he kissed her under the tree, when he thought there had been no time for anything at all, to explain himself. She can take things as slowly as she needs.]
[It is still a little difficult for her to believe that he truly want to, that such things were "okay", even after all he has done to try and prove it to her. If she could just trust that people said only what they truly meant, that he did... But experience has taught her very differently. When she'd been holding his shard she'd been sure, because she'd had to be... But she isn't going to ask for it again.
She can't just ask for it every time she doubts.
For a while, she doesn't say anything, lapsing again into the silence that says... She does not know what to say, and yet she is possessed of enough desire not to ruin things that she refuses to let herself just snap or defensively react. (Trying. She is trying.) Eventually, though... She lays a last little kiss to his knuckles and nuzzles back into the pillow, heedless of the light now streaming in through the window.]
... Stay here.
[In bed, where she never lingers, always rising early and plainly and business-like to begin the day and fill it with duties to keep her mind from wandering or despairing. But this morning...]
Just for a little while. Until we must rise to eat.
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leicesters) wrote2022-12-06 08:26 pm
no subject
[She didn't make him respond that way. He simply cared as a matter of course, and it's better than the alternative of discussing nothing at all. One of his legs moves to settle against a foreleg, as if to offer further comfort, more of his presence.]
Let's just take things a little at a time. You can come back here whenever you want, and I'll be here. [So anything she wants to say, do, express... She can do it when she's ready. This isn't like when he kissed her under the tree, when he thought there had been no time for anything at all, to explain himself. She can take things as slowly as she needs.]
no subject
She can't just ask for it every time she doubts.
For a while, she doesn't say anything, lapsing again into the silence that says... She does not know what to say, and yet she is possessed of enough desire not to ruin things that she refuses to let herself just snap or defensively react. (Trying. She is trying.) Eventually, though... She lays a last little kiss to his knuckles and nuzzles back into the pillow, heedless of the light now streaming in through the window.]
... Stay here.
[In bed, where she never lingers, always rising early and plainly and business-like to begin the day and fill it with duties to keep her mind from wandering or despairing. But this morning...]
Just for a little while. Until we must rise to eat.