[ he listens carefully to her, to those times she'd made the conscious choice in stepping away, and he doesn't react, remaining quiet as he lets her explain what she needs to say, what's likely to have been itching at her if she'd been the one to bring it up to him in the first place.
when she talks about right before she came, he wonders how all of that aligns with her death, if it'd taken place after or somehow before she'd made the choice of giving it all up. but she doesn't linger there, and so he doesn't ask.
but he thinks about what it means to separate entirely from someone who's completely affected their life, and he knows he's had to find ways to make that choice, even when the choice had already been made for him.
two hundred and fifty years is long enough. move on. never, he'd said. not ever. ]
Sometimes ... [ he starts quietly, his gaze drifting off, even as his fingers remain at her hips, almost tempted to hold her closer. ] Sometimes there are people who just ... redefine us. They pull us out from a shell we've spent our entire lives in, make us see things that we just — we never believed to be real. About the world, about ourselves. They save us.
[ he pauses for a moment because he can see her, see quell at the other side of the room, like a lurking ghost, and he closes his eyes, focusing his thoughts in only on clara. ]
It's easy to get lost in that. To think there's nothing else, to imagine that there isn't a life outside of the person who changed your whole world. [ he opens his eyes again, this time turning to look directly to clara in front of him, no ghost in the room. ] But maybe there can be. And you — I think you can do anything, be anyone. Whatever you want.
no subject
when she talks about right before she came, he wonders how all of that aligns with her death, if it'd taken place after or somehow before she'd made the choice of giving it all up. but she doesn't linger there, and so he doesn't ask.
but he thinks about what it means to separate entirely from someone who's completely affected their life, and he knows he's had to find ways to make that choice, even when the choice had already been made for him.
two hundred and fifty years is long enough. move on. never, he'd said. not ever. ]
Sometimes ... [ he starts quietly, his gaze drifting off, even as his fingers remain at her hips, almost tempted to hold her closer. ] Sometimes there are people who just ... redefine us. They pull us out from a shell we've spent our entire lives in, make us see things that we just — we never believed to be real. About the world, about ourselves. They save us.
[ he pauses for a moment because he can see her, see quell at the other side of the room, like a lurking ghost, and he closes his eyes, focusing his thoughts in only on clara. ]
It's easy to get lost in that. To think there's nothing else, to imagine that there isn't a life outside of the person who changed your whole world. [ he opens his eyes again, this time turning to look directly to clara in front of him, no ghost in the room. ] But maybe there can be. And you — I think you can do anything, be anyone. Whatever you want.