[Anger and sorrow are, in the end, so similar that only a fine line ever separates one from the other. She tries to hold on to the former as he bends in contrition, but it bleeds out into the latter. Once again she is left with sadness alone, even her bitterness cannot seem to temper it this time.]
You presume I am capable of hating you.
[She folds her arms about her waist, a posture she has not struck in ten thousand years or more, and steps back again. She considers him for a moment longer and turns, ready to abandon her books, her notes and all, and leave this place.]
You truly are a fool and you know me not at all.
Stay or return to your family, as you like, but follow me again and I shall disabuse you of your perceptions, whatever they may be. As desperately as I miss my cousin, you are not him, just as I am not a child climbing trees.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2018-03-18 08:30 am (UTC)You presume I am capable of hating you.
[She folds her arms about her waist, a posture she has not struck in ten thousand years or more, and steps back again. She considers him for a moment longer and turns, ready to abandon her books, her notes and all, and leave this place.]
You truly are a fool and you know me not at all.
Stay or return to your family, as you like, but follow me again and I shall disabuse you of your perceptions, whatever they may be. As desperately as I miss my cousin, you are not him, just as I am not a child climbing trees.
Namárië, Russandol.