These defeated gestures. The toss of the book, the half-hearted snarl, his thrown condemnations and.
He misunderstood her. He thought - Well, he must have. And perhaps she can see how he might have come to that conclusion, from his wine-addled perspective.
But this, this is why she avoids him. This bitterness, this sullenness, this self-pity: all of it well-deserved. All of these condemnations apt. How his life has become a work of misery, useless and worthless save that he is male. (And he thought her kindness was a change of heart, an attempt to warm him - well. In that way.) Her presence is only ever a reminder, only ever a taunt.
Poor creature, and this another blow to the pride she was trying to spare.
Cautious once more, she reaches out. Hesitates, because look what touching him earned a moment ago.
Tests his name. ]
Treavor.
[ She tries not to say it. He didn't like it the first time. But perhaps it will summon him back from this sulk, and towards friendly grace. ]
Please. There isn't any game. I only wanted to sit with you a while.
[ She summons up her courage, eases the back of her hand against his cheek: a gentle touch, an effort to soothe. She can give that, can't she, to someone so mired in despair and confusion?
no subject
These defeated gestures. The toss of the book, the half-hearted snarl, his thrown condemnations and.
He misunderstood her. He thought - Well, he must have. And perhaps she can see how he might have come to that conclusion, from his wine-addled perspective.
But this, this is why she avoids him. This bitterness, this sullenness, this self-pity: all of it well-deserved. All of these condemnations apt. How his life has become a work of misery, useless and worthless save that he is male. (And he thought her kindness was a change of heart, an attempt to warm him - well. In that way.) Her presence is only ever a reminder, only ever a taunt.
Poor creature, and this another blow to the pride she was trying to spare.
Cautious once more, she reaches out. Hesitates, because look what touching him earned a moment ago.
Tests his name. ]
Treavor.
[ She tries not to say it. He didn't like it the first time. But perhaps it will summon him back from this sulk, and towards friendly grace. ]
Please. There isn't any game. I only wanted to sit with you a while.
[ She summons up her courage, eases the back of her hand against his cheek: a gentle touch, an effort to soothe. She can give that, can't she, to someone so mired in despair and confusion?
(It's what would soothe her, isn't it?) ]
I'm sorry.