[ At the reminder of that particular day, which was notably not affected by anything else, there's that brief, almost tell-tale ear wiggle. When she had known she must have been becoming a little too fond, but perhaps for the wrong reasons. Or perhaps they were simply, reasons?
Even so he was still... coming into his own, coming to terms with himself and the people in his universe and maybe seeing around himself for the first time beyond the duty ahead. She had not anticipated, being in that viewpoint, though she knew how it was to simply lift up one's head and breathe for the first time and in some ways she was still learning to just do that.
But the wine, she remembers, and something darker, uglier, shifts beneath the surface, but her past, coils tightly within, knowing what in her would revile him, let alone all the emotions he had tugged to the fore that there was simply no place for in this world.
The wine. Regardless of what he said, it was still tainted with how compromised he was, even if it would have felt nice to just believe it a little longer, to just stay in this dream-moment a little longer, but that was the sort of thing that got one into trouble. Sweet words.
He was kind, and he was in pain, surely, and either way this was her fault, for allowing it to get so far, for indulging. She leans into his hand, but then she shifts hers, as though to gently move his away though it lingers. ]
... Then if this is a conversation you wish to continue, it must be when you are free of this wine. Your head will be clearer then. Perhaps your ... inclinations will be as well.
[ She doesn't understand, why he would see anything in her, and she's not sure how to handle it if -- there is more than what the wine suggests. She is far too fragile for this. ]
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branchandroot
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Date: 2020-01-08 05:48 am (UTC)Even so he was still... coming into his own, coming to terms with himself and the people in his universe and maybe seeing around himself for the first time beyond the duty ahead. She had not anticipated, being in that viewpoint, though she knew how it was to simply lift up one's head and breathe for the first time and in some ways she was still learning to just do that.
But the wine, she remembers, and something darker, uglier, shifts beneath the surface, but her past, coils tightly within, knowing what in her would revile him, let alone all the emotions he had tugged to the fore that there was simply no place for in this world.
The wine. Regardless of what he said, it was still tainted with how compromised he was, even if it would have felt nice to just believe it a little longer, to just stay in this dream-moment a little longer, but that was the sort of thing that got one into trouble. Sweet words.
He was kind, and he was in pain, surely, and either way this was her fault, for allowing it to get so far, for indulging. She leans into his hand, but then she shifts hers, as though to gently move his away though it lingers. ]
... Then if this is a conversation you wish to continue, it must be when you are free of this wine. Your head will be clearer then. Perhaps your ... inclinations will be as well.
[ She doesn't understand, why he would see anything in her, and she's not sure how to handle it if -- there is more than what the wine suggests. She is far too fragile for this. ]