[ Closing her eyes as he gently swept her hair back, Lux took a deep, stabilizing breath. She really didn't want him to see that. Any of that. But the thought that he might have been made to repeat that pain, that it would continue to happen regardless of what she did—
And moreover, that she couldn't be there, and was instead fast asleep and safe despite the fact that she should have been fighting. She was here, safe in Petrosian while others risked their lives—lost them, from what he had implied earlier... That feeling of guilt was almost insurmountable, that it was difficult to see over it. Knowing that it happened, knowing that this would keep happening and that she was powerless to stop it.
Knowing that she would continue to break her promise again, and again, and again...
There is understanding, Allen, and then there is blind acceptance. She was unwilling to hedge toward the latter, even if she knew (understood) that that might be her only option. And it hurt, that she couldn't stop it. That in wars such as these, ones that she was never truly meant to fight, she might lose those that she cared about. ]
You didn't—
[ Eyes snapping open, she stopped herself. Let him say his piece, this was important.
...Did he really think that he made her sad? Allen, it was uncanny how you could understand her so thoroughly at times, yet in others completely miss your mark. Getting hurt, that was a given. No, she would not be upset if it were just that.
It was that feeling that she couldn't help but shake, that somehow history had repeated itself. Because when she promised him that day that he would not have to bear another scar like the one he received that day, likely well before they met... That was the one she feared that she had broken, and it turned her stomach. Made her feel sick.
Feeling him pull back, she took another breath, a bit shallower this time. Slowly leaning over, she let the crown of her head rest just below his right shoulder, taking a deep breath. As if what she would say—what she needed to say—was not something that she wanted to. ]
I know that, and I accept it. I know that there will be times when we can't fully protect each other, that we'll get hurt... or worse. But...
[ She was thankful he couldn't see her face then. She might lose her nerve otherwise. A breath; ]
But the least I want to do is try to protect you from forgetting yourself.
[ Because to be willing to go to such lengths to protect others... That darkness he talked about in the woods...
You did something like that again, didn't you Allen? Throwing your own safety, your life on the line as a means to an end. ]
straps in.........
And moreover, that she couldn't be there, and was instead fast asleep and safe despite the fact that she should have been fighting. She was here, safe in Petrosian while others risked their lives—lost them, from what he had implied earlier... That feeling of guilt was almost insurmountable, that it was difficult to see over it. Knowing that it happened, knowing that this would keep happening and that she was powerless to stop it.
Knowing that she would continue to break her promise again, and again, and again...
There is understanding, Allen, and then there is blind acceptance. She was unwilling to hedge toward the latter, even if she knew (understood) that that might be her only option. And it hurt, that she couldn't stop it. That in wars such as these, ones that she was never truly meant to fight, she might lose those that she cared about. ]
You didn't—
[ Eyes snapping open, she stopped herself. Let him say his piece, this was important.
...Did he really think that he made her sad? Allen, it was uncanny how you could understand her so thoroughly at times, yet in others completely miss your mark. Getting hurt, that was a given. No, she would not be upset if it were just that.
It was that feeling that she couldn't help but shake, that somehow history had repeated itself. Because when she promised him that day that he would not have to bear another scar like the one he received that day, likely well before they met... That was the one she feared that she had broken, and it turned her stomach. Made her feel sick.
Feeling him pull back, she took another breath, a bit shallower this time. Slowly leaning over, she let the crown of her head rest just below his right shoulder, taking a deep breath. As if what she would say—what she needed to say—was not something that she wanted to. ]
I know that, and I accept it. I know that there will be times when we can't fully protect each other, that we'll get hurt... or worse. But...
[ She was thankful he couldn't see her face then. She might lose her nerve otherwise. A breath; ]
But the least I want to do is try to protect you from forgetting yourself.
[ Because to be willing to go to such lengths to protect others... That darkness he talked about in the woods...
You did something like that again, didn't you Allen? Throwing your own safety, your life on the line as a means to an end. ]