[ The casual truth that carries far too much weight feels like an arrow through her heart. She had never wanted to be counted among that number of people who had wronged him or hurt him. And yet she had left destruction in its wake. Why wouldn't someone want her to change? ]
Aren't I? If I'm not walking behind whoever my future betrothed is at home then I'll be walking behind Holst, cheering him on.
[ There is a third option of course. But that was barred shut behind a door and she had lost the key to it the moment she had witnessed the scalding, gut wrenching disappointment in the wake of the prodigal son's failure.
There's no dramatics, no waterworks or wavering voice. Just a quiet acceptance of predetermined fates for a youngest and only daughter who feared trying. Complacency and fear would never pair well with someone like Claude. A brave Princess of Brigid would. So would a very capable, very kind-hearted heir to Gautier. She's never allowed herself to fathom more of a future with Claude because of lack of seriousness, war, and now her own shortcomings.
It feels like just another reminder that her careless hands are incapable of taking care of his heart. Provides evidence that this wouldn't work. The conclusion is a loud jarring sound that rings out in her head. She barely registers the way he raises his hand to gently cup her face, the reverberations from that awful truth making it suddenly hard to breathe and push tears to the corners of her eyes. It's only belatedly that her brain seems to register what he's saying. Start over from the beginning. Try something new with the hope that it would turn into more. Hope that she had been suffocating for so long that she almost doesn't know how to nurture it again and give it room to grow.
A disbelieving breath meant to be a laugh is pushed from her lungs. ]
You still want to try even though you know I'm jealous of you and Sylvain? And that I might never get over that? [ Old habits die hard and her tone betrays that even she doesn't believe she's capable of that. Her voice breaks and more tears slip. ] And what happens if all our trying doesn't work?
[ The thought of losing someone that had carved his name on her ribcage and held her heart in his hands in any capacity grips her anew. Hilda didn't want to grasp at love turned to dust because of her own doing. She had had her fill of breathing in heartache. This is why she had never tried, never bothered to put much investment in anything more serious than flirting, skin and sheets. ]
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Aren't I? If I'm not walking behind whoever my future betrothed is at home then I'll be walking behind Holst, cheering him on.
[ There is a third option of course. But that was barred shut behind a door and she had lost the key to it the moment she had witnessed the scalding, gut wrenching disappointment in the wake of the prodigal son's failure.
There's no dramatics, no waterworks or wavering voice. Just a quiet acceptance of predetermined fates for a youngest and only daughter who feared trying. Complacency and fear would never pair well with someone like Claude. A brave Princess of Brigid would. So would a very capable, very kind-hearted heir to Gautier. She's never allowed herself to fathom more of a future with Claude because of lack of seriousness, war, and now her own shortcomings.
It feels like just another reminder that her careless hands are incapable of taking care of his heart. Provides evidence that this wouldn't work. The conclusion is a loud jarring sound that rings out in her head. She barely registers the way he raises his hand to gently cup her face, the reverberations from that awful truth making it suddenly hard to breathe and push tears to the corners of her eyes. It's only belatedly that her brain seems to register what he's saying. Start over from the beginning. Try something new with the hope that it would turn into more. Hope that she had been suffocating for so long that she almost doesn't know how to nurture it again and give it room to grow.
A disbelieving breath meant to be a laugh is pushed from her lungs. ]
You still want to try even though you know I'm jealous of you and Sylvain? And that I might never get over that? [ Old habits die hard and her tone betrays that even she doesn't believe she's capable of that. Her voice breaks and more tears slip. ] And what happens if all our trying doesn't work?
[ The thought of losing someone that had carved his name on her ribcage and held her heart in his hands in any capacity grips her anew. Hilda didn't want to grasp at love turned to dust because of her own doing. She had had her fill of breathing in heartache. This is why she had never tried, never bothered to put much investment in anything more serious than flirting, skin and sheets. ]