[ Slowly, Beleth's tension seeps out of her muscles, relaxing just a little more. While she was a mental wreck, Felassan wasn't judging her, wasn't frowning, or pitying. He was trying not to make things awkward, bless him. Though -- Did he know? Was it obvious?
How could he remain so calm? How could nothing be different? ]
Orlesians are worse. I lived with them for so long.
[ There were too many questions in her head. And Beleth may not have Felassan's years, or the wisdom that came with those years. But even in the midst of self hatred, of feeling like she's the worst person in the world, she can come to a decision. She can spend some time staring up at the sky, think on Felassan's words, and then figure out... something. A work in progress, perhaps. But it starts with a first step. A mortifying first step, if she's wrong. ]
You're not troubling me. What's troubling me is if I am the one being arrogant. If I have misinterpreted you.
[ She turns to him, expression... worried, but determined. Her lips press in a thin line, and she looks for a moment like she might give up -- but no. She's faced worst than her own feelings. ]
Tell me I am not being delusional, Felassan. That I am not sitting here, overthinking this, and hoping for something that is not true. Or tell me that I am an idiot, and I will let the matter rest in its entirety.
[ It feels risky. Stupid. And probably, poorly worded. So many ways for everything to go wrong, and yet. She's beaten worse odds, probably. And unlike Felassan, she's not content to spend the rest of forever wondering. ]
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How could he remain so calm? How could nothing be different? ]
Orlesians are worse. I lived with them for so long.
[ There were too many questions in her head. And Beleth may not have Felassan's years, or the wisdom that came with those years. But even in the midst of self hatred, of feeling like she's the worst person in the world, she can come to a decision. She can spend some time staring up at the sky, think on Felassan's words, and then figure out... something. A work in progress, perhaps. But it starts with a first step. A mortifying first step, if she's wrong. ]
You're not troubling me. What's troubling me is if I am the one being arrogant. If I have misinterpreted you.
[ She turns to him, expression... worried, but determined. Her lips press in a thin line, and she looks for a moment like she might give up -- but no. She's faced worst than her own feelings. ]
Tell me I am not being delusional, Felassan. That I am not sitting here, overthinking this, and hoping for something that is not true. Or tell me that I am an idiot, and I will let the matter rest in its entirety.
[ It feels risky. Stupid. And probably, poorly worded. So many ways for everything to go wrong, and yet. She's beaten worse odds, probably. And unlike Felassan, she's not content to spend the rest of forever wondering. ]