[ There's a small voice in her head that tells her to reach out, to give him a direction because he looks so strangely lost then. And she's torn by that, her hand hovering near to his and wanting to give that little bit of what could be considered reassurance, but keeping herself at a distance. Not quite touching.
Almost like standing on a precipice, because she's still reeling at the idea of him seeing that, of being worried about any number of things... but she still wants to offer him that bit of comfort. She isn't sure what to do, and that feeling is terrifying.
That only escalates when he speaks again, not only to say that that feeling didn't bother her (she's relieved, really), but to ask such a simple and well-meaning question. Lux freezes then, breath catching and looking bewildered. He thought— ]
That...
[ All she can do is stare at him, unsure of what to say or what to think. That he would assume that she could use that light to help others in that way, to let them know that it exists even if the same risks did not exist in this place... She can't.
She can shine her light, but at a distance, in ways that others might not see or understand.
Fingers curling into her palm, she doesn't quite pull her hand away. Looking away from him, she draws her lips together into a fine line, speaking not much louder than a whisper. Like it's something she doesn't want to say, or something she's worried that someone will hear. ]
...They can never know about that. No one should know about that.
no subject
Almost like standing on a precipice, because she's still reeling at the idea of him seeing that, of being worried about any number of things... but she still wants to offer him that bit of comfort. She isn't sure what to do, and that feeling is terrifying.
That only escalates when he speaks again, not only to say that that feeling didn't bother her (she's relieved, really), but to ask such a simple and well-meaning question. Lux freezes then, breath catching and looking bewildered. He thought— ]
That...
[ All she can do is stare at him, unsure of what to say or what to think. That he would assume that she could use that light to help others in that way, to let them know that it exists even if the same risks did not exist in this place... She can't.
She can shine her light, but at a distance, in ways that others might not see or understand.
Fingers curling into her palm, she doesn't quite pull her hand away. Looking away from him, she draws her lips together into a fine line, speaking not much louder than a whisper. Like it's something she doesn't want to say, or something she's worried that someone will hear. ]
...They can never know about that. No one should know about that.