[ The braid is finished, slowly and carefully, while Alexandrie thinks in the quiet after Bastien's voice is gone. The curl of her hair will hold it together enough for her to find the old-new ribbon Byerly had given her and make it fast.
She is always ready enough to introduce the thought. To suggest or encourage or otherwise make known that Bastien is welcome, rather than accepted or endured. That she knows he is loved, and wanted, and sometimes needed, and this is fine. As an abstract idea it is fine, and then when it shares the space with her suddenly it is not, no matter how firmly she tells herself it is. Suddenly it is an uneasy fearful thing; every stitch of intimacy between the two men is made with thread pulled from her cloth and she is alone again, always half a moment away from being, of a sudden, discarded.
It is still the same. Made a little duller by the years, but still the very same. The little voice wild with terror that shrieks Run! Run before it happens! It will kill you if it comes from him.
And what had he done? What had Byerly ever done to warrant her fear? Nothing. Nothing, and still the moment he turns away for a second there is the voice with Now, it is now, we were right. We have always been right.
She ties the ribbon into a careful little bow, and sits on the edge of the bed, and when she speaks it is soft but clear. ]
Loving you makes me fearful. You have never given me reason, but I have always been afraid.
[ She looks over her shoulder at him with a sad little smile. ]
no subject
She is always ready enough to introduce the thought. To suggest or encourage or otherwise make known that Bastien is welcome, rather than accepted or endured. That she knows he is loved, and wanted, and sometimes needed, and this is fine. As an abstract idea it is fine, and then when it shares the space with her suddenly it is not, no matter how firmly she tells herself it is. Suddenly it is an uneasy fearful thing; every stitch of intimacy between the two men is made with thread pulled from her cloth and she is alone again, always half a moment away from being, of a sudden, discarded.
It is still the same. Made a little duller by the years, but still the very same. The little voice wild with terror that shrieks Run! Run before it happens! It will kill you if it comes from him.
And what had he done? What had Byerly ever done to warrant her fear? Nothing. Nothing, and still the moment he turns away for a second there is the voice with Now, it is now, we were right. We have always been right.
She ties the ribbon into a careful little bow, and sits on the edge of the bed, and when she speaks it is soft but clear. ]
Loving you makes me fearful. You have never given me reason, but I have always been afraid.
[ She looks over her shoulder at him with a sad little smile. ]
I am sorry for it.