OPEN POST

[mythalenaste]

“All witches are selfish, the Queen had said. But Tiffany’s Third Thoughts said: Then turn selfishness into a weapon! Make all things yours! Make other lives and dreams and hopes yours! Protect them! Save them! Bring them into the sheepfold! Walk the gale for them! Keep away the wolf! My dreams! My brother! My family! My land! My world! How dare you try to take these things, because they are mine!

I have a duty!”

--Terry Pratchett, The Wee Free Men

for shenanigans of all types, especially post-game

Comments

[mythalenaste]

"You're not a bad man."

She doesn't know why she blurts that out, except that none of this is worthwhile if he loses all hope in himself.

"You're a good man. You just don't think you know what that means."

Her tears are dry now, and she still hasn't looked at him again.

[slipshot]

"... I'll figure it out somehow, Pel," he replied quietly, his eyes on her face even as hers was turned away.

He raised a hand to rub absentmindedly at his chest, as if pressing against the flesh would make the feeling go away.

"I promise."

[mythalenaste]

"You've never come through with a promise, Gavin. I can't keep hoping you will. I don't have it in me any more."

[slipshot]

He sighed, bowing his head, picking up his pack from where he'd dropped it and shifting it back onto his shoulder.

"I'd better go find Merrick," He murmured, before slipping away. He'd done enough damage, for today.

[mythalenaste]

"Yes, you had," she retorts lamely before leaning over her task again. Mixing soap, because one of their clanmates hurt his hand and can't make soap. He runs off to find his destiny while hers was handed to her a long time ago.