[ maybe she can be. maybe she will be — or maybe she won't. happy still feels like a gift that's borderline impossible to achieve, inevitably ruined by the next war or the next tragedy, and clary knows better than anyone the wounds she carries — as unseen as they are — need time to heal before it can ever be hers for more than a handful of moments. still, she hopes just the same; without that, she thinks she might go insane.
it's a nice sentiment — a sweet one, at that. the gratitude gets stuck in her throat, but she smiles lightly and lets her thumb skip over the back of his knuckles, like that might express it without words. ]
Everyone deserves a chance at being happy. [ not just herself. she does believe that, idealistic as it is, despite the horrible things she's witnessed. ] What they do with that chance is a different story.
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it's a nice sentiment — a sweet one, at that. the gratitude gets stuck in her throat, but she smiles lightly and lets her thumb skip over the back of his knuckles, like that might express it without words. ]
Everyone deserves a chance at being happy. [ not just herself. she does believe that, idealistic as it is, despite the horrible things she's witnessed. ] What they do with that chance is a different story.