She shivers in something like anticipation and anger as he leans down. She wants... Ay, she wants.
What she does get is intimate. Tender. And such beautiful words.
He was always good with beautiful words.
And in this case it's like a lid put on a pot, with only thin curls of steam escaping. She disentangles herself from him and brushes the wrinkles from her dress, straightens her hair, feels a hideous stab of pain through her which makes her cringe, but she rises above even that, lifting her head as her knuckles whiten and shake in the folds of her skirt.
"No, Hector." Her voice is cool. "You made your choice. Passion is one thing but this--?" Another stroke of pain which she manages to hide mostly, just a twitch through her.
"You don't get to say pretty words, even if you feel them. After all, a goddess is worshiped from afar, isn't she?" Far and above and oh he would prostrate himself in grief and apology but that will change nothing.
"Your misery also isn't going to change anything. You punishing yourself" A wince, her time is running out faster than she expected. "You live in a shack because you don't believe you deserve better. You always have. And if you ever want to rise above it--"
She remembers the vial then, the other thing she got in Fayren, this evil thing. Rather than waiting for him to take it, she puts it with cold shaking hands into his top pocket.
"You are already a dead man, but now you have another choice. You can either stay in misery or you can learn how to live again for a daughter that admires you."
And she turns and starts for the door, her head high; even as every nerve twists and sears against her.
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What she does get is intimate. Tender. And such beautiful words.
He was always good with beautiful words.
And in this case it's like a lid put on a pot, with only thin curls of steam escaping. She disentangles herself from him and brushes the wrinkles from her dress, straightens her hair, feels a hideous stab of pain through her which makes her cringe, but she rises above even that, lifting her head as her knuckles whiten and shake in the folds of her skirt.
"No, Hector." Her voice is cool. "You made your choice. Passion is one thing but this--?" Another stroke of pain which she manages to hide mostly, just a twitch through her.
"You don't get to say pretty words, even if you feel them. After all, a goddess is worshiped from afar, isn't she?" Far and above and oh he would prostrate himself in grief and apology but that will change nothing.
"Your misery also isn't going to change anything. You punishing yourself" A wince, her time is running out faster than she expected. "You live in a shack because you don't believe you deserve better. You always have. And if you ever want to rise above it--"
She remembers the vial then, the other thing she got in Fayren, this evil thing. Rather than waiting for him to take it, she puts it with cold shaking hands into his top pocket.
"You are already a dead man, but now you have another choice. You can either stay in misery or you can learn how to live again for a daughter that admires you."
And she turns and starts for the door, her head high; even as every nerve twists and sears against her.