[ the look in his eyes breaks her heart, squeezing it in a tight fist - it's physically painful, a tightening in her ribs that threatens to suffocate her. his explanation has her utterly bewildered, and all the while he talks the crease in her brow grows deeper and deeper, her mouth working like she wants to argue but she just can't quite find the words.
because she can't. how can he believe this? of course she knows that he does, that he certainly wouldn't lie about such things but it still leaves her speechless, and unsure of how to combat it. gods, she's good at loving people, she's a fiercely protective soul but it's so hard to fight something like this, a foe like smoke, the shadows in his heart not something she can wrestle away with her bare hands. what could she possibly say to soothe him? to convince him that he is wrong? she has no idea how to approach it, it seems such an intimidating foe, insurmountable, one she does not have the strength to challenge.
at last she swallows thickly, lifting her right hand to smooth it gently over his cheek and jaw; she aches to draw him closer, to kiss his pain away, to show him how wrong she is. physicality is so much easier for her than words.
but she speaks soon enough, her thumb drawing over the crest of his cheek, her touch tender, but her eyes are sharp when they find his, holding fast. ]
It isn't up to you to decide what is good for me, what is better for me, the sort of person that I should love.
[ she cannot kiss him, but she can lean close at least, to touch her brow to his. ]
You cannot help these things that have happened to you, and your hurts, the things you are feeling -- [ her hand drops down to his chest, over his heart. ] -- this is what makes you who you are. This is why I love you. Never be ashamed of your heart or your pain.
no subject
because she can't. how can he believe this? of course she knows that he does, that he certainly wouldn't lie about such things but it still leaves her speechless, and unsure of how to combat it. gods, she's good at loving people, she's a fiercely protective soul but it's so hard to fight something like this, a foe like smoke, the shadows in his heart not something she can wrestle away with her bare hands. what could she possibly say to soothe him? to convince him that he is wrong? she has no idea how to approach it, it seems such an intimidating foe, insurmountable, one she does not have the strength to challenge.
at last she swallows thickly, lifting her right hand to smooth it gently over his cheek and jaw; she aches to draw him closer, to kiss his pain away, to show him how wrong she is. physicality is so much easier for her than words.
but she speaks soon enough, her thumb drawing over the crest of his cheek, her touch tender, but her eyes are sharp when they find his, holding fast. ]
It isn't up to you to decide what is good for me, what is better for me, the sort of person that I should love.
[ she cannot kiss him, but she can lean close at least, to touch her brow to his. ]
You cannot help these things that have happened to you, and your hurts, the things you are feeling -- [ her hand drops down to his chest, over his heart. ] -- this is what makes you who you are. This is why I love you. Never be ashamed of your heart or your pain.