[ Still consolation comes from them both, and— it isn't about being good, really. Alexandrie has never thought herself to be good, or evil, or thought it useful to think in those terms at all. It is about harm and cruelty and retribution and how quickly she turns to them when she is hurt and frightened and feels alone. To everyone. To people she loves— especially to people she loves, for they are the only ones who can still hurt, frighten, make her feel alone. It is for those whom she blooms as a rose that she has the cruelest thorns, and she cannot make herself stop.
But kindness still. Kindness and soft voices even from those she bleeds. Why? Why? It is all of it unearned, and yet when she reaches for the one she's hurt the most he holds her hand and it is unbearable. It is unbearable to be this, to have been seen being this, and be loved.
She does not want to be crying, because she knows they will look at her with even more concern and try to soothe her and that will make it worse, but she does not want to smother her distress because they will know and still be concerned, and so she holds tighter to the hand in hers and manages to speak with a wavering voice. ]
Bastien, do come sit down. Breakfast will get cold, or soggy, or both, and I refuse to be responsible for rendering your thoughtfulness an atrocity on your birthday.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2021-02-15 08:33 pm (UTC)But kindness still. Kindness and soft voices even from those she bleeds. Why? Why? It is all of it unearned, and yet when she reaches for the one she's hurt the most he holds her hand and it is unbearable. It is unbearable to be this, to have been seen being this, and be loved.
She does not want to be crying, because she knows they will look at her with even more concern and try to soothe her and that will make it worse, but she does not want to smother her distress because they will know and still be concerned, and so she holds tighter to the hand in hers and manages to speak with a wavering voice. ]
Bastien, do come sit down. Breakfast will get cold, or soggy, or both, and I refuse to be responsible for rendering your thoughtfulness an atrocity on your birthday.