07-17-2019, 03:19 PM
Ilma
One night I will be the moon
hanging over you
One night I will be a star
follow where you are
hanging over you
One night I will be a star
follow where you are
Although she has no desire to hurt him with the question, it does have the desired effect. Perhaps more than she realizes, for the only thing she notices is the way he doesn’t quite look at her right away, the way his body tenses a little as his mind tries to process whatever deeper meaning she had with asking - in the past, she always had - but the truth is that she wants to know what he had been thinking. What she was to him. If he had ever considered the long-term effects of… whatever he had been doing, on purpose or no. If he ever regretted that it wasn’t just Kagerus he was waltzing over by taking down the sanctuary - that a revenge plot, if that was what it was, against the former Sanctuary queens would hurt her, too. (Her and whomever still had friends in the East at that time. Sometimes she wonders what Velk had made of all of it - but then, he had gone to take his responsibilities as a father, himself.)
Too kind for a world too angry, indeed. Yet she can’t help but just stare at him, not a single muscle on her face revealing what she thinks of that comment. Was it really true what he said, was there nothing to be done about it at the time, and above all, she wonders, was she really that kind at all? And was the world really angry, or had that only been a certain individual? Or some? And was that representative?
It is the next phrase that seems to trigger an old life in her eyes, if only briefly - protected, sheltered, but too stubborn? Too bad he’d anticipated a ‘no’ before even bothering to ask… But she remains silent just a little while longer. Fighting him is a tactic she already tried several times before in her life. And mostly failed at. Besides, he knows very well what she thinks of his excuses, judging by the way he gives her that sheepishly guilty smile. And isn’t that all the punishment he needs? Guilt?
She looks at him now, disappointment flashing briefly in her eyes, but pushed away for a more neutral tone. ”We would have made a greater team than Loess and Pangea currently are, or ever will be.” she tells him softly but firmly. She believes it is so, because she knows it to be true, with what limited knowledge she has of the future - and of their possibilities if they ever teamed up properly - and so she doesn’t agree with him when he tells her they are on opposite sides. She doesn’t, because when he touches her, there are these vague promises of old friendship, of warmth, of kindness. She knows she wouldn’t have minded giving herself and the Sanctuary to him at the time, had he only asked (and promised not to steal away her children. Or Dawn’s, or Solace’s).
She doesn’t agree with him when he seems to tell himself that letting her go is better for her than to let her in - a conclusion she makes from what he says instead, about the meadow, about the sitting idle.
Sitting idle is what she’s good at now.
He’s wrong about so many things still, and still assumes he knows what she’ll do next - but to say it to his face would make him believe they truly are on opposite sides. That their beliefs are too different to find a way of living they both could agree to. Or, could have. Now, the rift is bigger, the walls he built are up once more and she doesn’t have the energy to scratch at them any longer. After all, she recognizes the walls for what they are - knows him from the time when all he wanted was a peaceful life, perhaps a family, or a herd. His own family, mind, not someone else’s. Just like with Solace. Just like with Sabra.
And in the end, that’s why she refused, and still refuses, to go against him any more. She’s burnt up. Whatever flame he brought her just now, what fired the one statement she made earlier - the kindle’s already gone again. That’s why she left in the first place. That’s why she didn’t throw herself in his way, pulling at his tail and yelling for him to stop, to not damage all the children, physically or mentally.
That’s why in answer to his statement, she looks away from him now, to the meadow, to the new mothers and their young ones, the mares without a home, the children without a father to protect them, the young males trying to make contact but failing so, só hard in their youth. All in need of guidance, or a body to talk to, a kind face lighting the way in the dark shadows of life. All come to a neutral ground. ”There are no sides, Cas. There is only life. We may be opposites, but that should make us stronger together, not break us apart.”
She looks at him, sad now. Knowing he won’t suddenly change his mind. And it is true that at this point, she believes a whole lot of things about life and herself - most of all that she is not the same any more, and that perhaps the work he mentions, isn‘t worth the trouble it may bring.
”Perhaps the meadow was always my home.”
No one had a side, here.
Too kind for a world too angry, indeed. Yet she can’t help but just stare at him, not a single muscle on her face revealing what she thinks of that comment. Was it really true what he said, was there nothing to be done about it at the time, and above all, she wonders, was she really that kind at all? And was the world really angry, or had that only been a certain individual? Or some? And was that representative?
It is the next phrase that seems to trigger an old life in her eyes, if only briefly - protected, sheltered, but too stubborn? Too bad he’d anticipated a ‘no’ before even bothering to ask… But she remains silent just a little while longer. Fighting him is a tactic she already tried several times before in her life. And mostly failed at. Besides, he knows very well what she thinks of his excuses, judging by the way he gives her that sheepishly guilty smile. And isn’t that all the punishment he needs? Guilt?
She looks at him now, disappointment flashing briefly in her eyes, but pushed away for a more neutral tone. ”We would have made a greater team than Loess and Pangea currently are, or ever will be.” she tells him softly but firmly. She believes it is so, because she knows it to be true, with what limited knowledge she has of the future - and of their possibilities if they ever teamed up properly - and so she doesn’t agree with him when he tells her they are on opposite sides. She doesn’t, because when he touches her, there are these vague promises of old friendship, of warmth, of kindness. She knows she wouldn’t have minded giving herself and the Sanctuary to him at the time, had he only asked (and promised not to steal away her children. Or Dawn’s, or Solace’s).
She doesn’t agree with him when he seems to tell himself that letting her go is better for her than to let her in - a conclusion she makes from what he says instead, about the meadow, about the sitting idle.
Sitting idle is what she’s good at now.
He’s wrong about so many things still, and still assumes he knows what she’ll do next - but to say it to his face would make him believe they truly are on opposite sides. That their beliefs are too different to find a way of living they both could agree to. Or, could have. Now, the rift is bigger, the walls he built are up once more and she doesn’t have the energy to scratch at them any longer. After all, she recognizes the walls for what they are - knows him from the time when all he wanted was a peaceful life, perhaps a family, or a herd. His own family, mind, not someone else’s. Just like with Solace. Just like with Sabra.
And in the end, that’s why she refused, and still refuses, to go against him any more. She’s burnt up. Whatever flame he brought her just now, what fired the one statement she made earlier - the kindle’s already gone again. That’s why she left in the first place. That’s why she didn’t throw herself in his way, pulling at his tail and yelling for him to stop, to not damage all the children, physically or mentally.
That’s why in answer to his statement, she looks away from him now, to the meadow, to the new mothers and their young ones, the mares without a home, the children without a father to protect them, the young males trying to make contact but failing so, só hard in their youth. All in need of guidance, or a body to talk to, a kind face lighting the way in the dark shadows of life. All come to a neutral ground. ”There are no sides, Cas. There is only life. We may be opposites, but that should make us stronger together, not break us apart.”
She looks at him, sad now. Knowing he won’t suddenly change his mind. And it is true that at this point, she believes a whole lot of things about life and herself - most of all that she is not the same any more, and that perhaps the work he mentions, isn‘t worth the trouble it may bring.
”Perhaps the meadow was always my home.”
No one had a side, here.
Hurry, the sun is waking
Darling, don't leave me waiting
Darling, don't leave me waiting
@[Castile]
Any fool knows men and women think differently at times, but the biggest difference is this: men forget, but never forgive; women forgive, but never forget.
Robert Jordan, Wheel of Time