[She wishes, suddenly and fiercely, that she'd gotten a chance to see his soul. She's glad in the same moment that she didn't, that such a shredded, vicious version of herself never touched him. She tucks both desires under her sternum like seashell's into a child's box of treasures, side by side. It's done with now; it's okay for her to want it and not want it at once.
Her smile is - not easy, but full and inexorable in answer, a little bit chagrined. She'd offered the excursion to comfort him, but she's not so blind to miss it happening the other way. You don't always have to be she bari, he said. And she does, she is, but - she can have this anyway, sparkling glass fragments and private smiles and a nebulous, permeating kindness like the warm light of an impressionist painting.]
I love you, Cassel Sharpe.
[Her voice still sounds quiet to their adjusting ears, though she speaks them normally. It doesn't matter. The words are clear.]
[spam]
Her smile is - not easy, but full and inexorable in answer, a little bit chagrined. She'd offered the excursion to comfort him, but she's not so blind to miss it happening the other way. You don't always have to be she bari, he said. And she does, she is, but - she can have this anyway, sparkling glass fragments and private smiles and a nebulous, permeating kindness like the warm light of an impressionist painting.]
I love you, Cassel Sharpe.
[Her voice still sounds quiet to their adjusting ears, though she speaks them normally. It doesn't matter. The words are clear.]