[He's reticent. Most men are. Neglectful of their hearts, hardening their exteriors. She's written about the easing of those barriers, piece by piece, between winsome women and the difficult men they choose to love.
None of those fancies give her anything to work with now. She doesn't think he'd like it if she softly brushed the hair from his face.
Instead she's gone silent again. Anakin, from before. What could that mean, that he was some resurrected hero from a time long past? And — hey, just when did she decide to give credence to these outlandish stories people keep spinning?
She purses her lips and shoots him a look, but...
...
He looks like a child. Underneath that thin-lipped smile and protective posture is an old wound, something left to fester. That's not faked. Not simulated. She hopes not. She can't trust that this train is real, but the pain this boy feels is.
Finally, she speaks.]
I-I...I think I heard something like that happening to another passenger, too. Not that it makes it easier, but. Um. [She's biting into her thumb again. When did that happen?] Y-you're not alone you know! There's other people here with sad things and. Stories about...Though that doesn't make what happened to you any less sh-shitty.
[And if it were an order of Knights with mind powers, just what would it take to wipe them out? Killers with even bigger, scarier mind powers? Ugh. Sci-fi was not her genre. Too much was possible and the stakes were never real.
War, though. Annihilation. Those are concepts that carry anywhere.]
There's a lot of stories that glorify being alone. The lone warrior, the lone w-wolf. But in the end, I think they're p-pretty stupid. Maybe being alone makes you tough in some ways, but...who the hell is meant to be alone? What kind of existence is that?
So. It's okay. Not that it's okay th-that that happened to you but that...it hurts. And you miss them. [Does this make her sound like an idiot? Or did she get too far away from what he was saying in the first place?]
I hope he made it too. Did you talk to him about it?
no subject
None of those fancies give her anything to work with now. She doesn't think he'd like it if she softly brushed the hair from his face.
Instead she's gone silent again. Anakin, from before. What could that mean, that he was some resurrected hero from a time long past? And — hey, just when did she decide to give credence to these outlandish stories people keep spinning?
She purses her lips and shoots him a look, but...
...
He looks like a child. Underneath that thin-lipped smile and protective posture is an old wound, something left to fester. That's not faked. Not simulated. She hopes not. She can't trust that this train is real, but the pain this boy feels is.
Finally, she speaks.]
I-I...I think I heard something like that happening to another passenger, too. Not that it makes it easier, but. Um. [She's biting into her thumb again. When did that happen?] Y-you're not alone you know! There's other people here with sad things and. Stories about...Though that doesn't make what happened to you any less sh-shitty.
[And if it were an order of Knights with mind powers, just what would it take to wipe them out? Killers with even bigger, scarier mind powers? Ugh. Sci-fi was not her genre. Too much was possible and the stakes were never real.
War, though. Annihilation. Those are concepts that carry anywhere.]
There's a lot of stories that glorify being alone. The lone warrior, the lone w-wolf. But in the end, I think they're p-pretty stupid. Maybe being alone makes you tough in some ways, but...who the hell is meant to be alone? What kind of existence is that?
So. It's okay. Not that it's okay th-that that happened to you but that...it hurts. And you miss them. [Does this make her sound like an idiot? Or did she get too far away from what he was saying in the first place?]
I hope he made it too. Did you talk to him about it?