[She doesn't flinch, but she does bite her lip, a visual promise of silence. And she listens.]
I believe you. [How could she not? He's lied to her about almost everything, but he's never lied about his feelings. Hidden them, ignored them, but never lied about them.
She listens, she believes, but she doesn't understand. She's never been in that position -- never had to be afraid that she would lose something she so desperately wants.
What about those times you got back your bending? She doesn't know where the thought comes from, but it forces her to reconsider. She remembers how she felt after those weekends when she's gotten her bending back, the inevitable anger and grief that comes with once again losing that which defines her. She destroyed more than a few pieces of furniture herself each time.
Maybe she actually does understand.]
So what now? [At this point, she knows better than to say I'm sorry. It's not her fault, and it would help nothing anyway. Her sympathy doesn't matter. What matters is how they're going to move on from this.]
no subject
I believe you. [How could she not? He's lied to her about almost everything, but he's never lied about his feelings. Hidden them, ignored them, but never lied about them.
She listens, she believes, but she doesn't understand. She's never been in that position -- never had to be afraid that she would lose something she so desperately wants.
What about those times you got back your bending? She doesn't know where the thought comes from, but it forces her to reconsider. She remembers how she felt after those weekends when she's gotten her bending back, the inevitable anger and grief that comes with once again losing that which defines her. She destroyed more than a few pieces of furniture herself each time.
Maybe she actually does understand.]
So what now? [At this point, she knows better than to say I'm sorry. It's not her fault, and it would help nothing anyway. Her sympathy doesn't matter. What matters is how they're going to move on from this.]