[ she knows that voice. never has she heard it spoken in such a tone, but she knows it — knows her. You.
it doesn't take her even a second to piece together why she looks like she does, why she sounds like she does. it's the flat tone of someone disillusioned — someone who has seen the world for what it is, not what she wants it to be.
she feels a swell of pity as she steps closer. ]
You... [ she reaches out, slowly, making sure that when she touches You's hand it's lightly, reassuringly. ] I'm so sorry. I know how that feels like... and I never wished you would, too.
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it doesn't take her even a second to piece together why she looks like she does, why she sounds like she does. it's the flat tone of someone disillusioned — someone who has seen the world for what it is, not what she wants it to be.
she feels a swell of pity as she steps closer. ]
You... [ she reaches out, slowly, making sure that when she touches You's hand it's lightly, reassuringly. ] I'm so sorry. I know how that feels like... and I never wished you would, too.