[ She cannot understand anything now— or, at least, nothing of society's 'why's— there is only hurt and betrayal and the memory of turning to someone she trusted for help and receiving it in the form of what was right for the Game and ruin for both her and Byerly.
No, it had been success for her.
No.
Alexandrie shakes her head behind her hands with a violence she is unaware of. ]
Do not, [ she says, reverting to Orlesian. ] Do not say it was right. Do not tell me a pretty dream and then tell me I should not crush it and then tell me she was right to.
[ Another shake of her head, smaller this time, and she lets her hands fall so she can look at him; her eyes begging for some unclear thing. ]
What do you want, Byerly. What do you want now, not in some time that is gone. I cannot do anything about the past, and it hurts to remember. I cannot make anything make sense.
no subject
No, it had been success for her.
No.
Alexandrie shakes her head behind her hands with a violence she is unaware of. ]
Do not, [ she says, reverting to Orlesian. ] Do not say it was right. Do not tell me a pretty dream and then tell me I should not crush it and then tell me she was right to.
[ Another shake of her head, smaller this time, and she lets her hands fall so she can look at him; her eyes begging for some unclear thing. ]
What do you want, Byerly. What do you want now, not in some time that is gone. I cannot do anything about the past, and it hurts to remember. I cannot make anything make sense.