[there is a pause - and then the anger sets in, cool and slow and encroaching until it lights every nerve in her body. it seeps through her attempts at calm, overtakes everything else she could possibly feel.
when she speaks, her voice is soft at first:] Oh. I see. You seek to lecture me, as if you are my teacher. How quaint.
It's interesting. You fall on your sword, and make yourself a public enemy, even knowing all who have shed tears for you. You apologize for hurting me, and then say you will only hurt me again, and again, and again because that is more merciful than allowing me to save even one person in my care. You will not allow others the chance of the same action you are taking yourself.
What an interesting person you are, to have a complex that makes you so certain you get to decide who lives and dies.
I had not thought to criticize or condescend you on your choices until now, Byleth. At least pay me enough respect to do the same.
[oh, she's so mad. the absolute fury of it crawls across her skin, and it's enough to make her shudder from the nerve-ending incandescence of it. it's hard to stay balanced, and she can't help but take on a little bit of anger, herself. still, she takes in each word, thinking on them—and by the end, nods.]
You're right.
[it's... an accurate read, she thinks. a wholly accurate encapsulation.]
I'm not your teacher, and I have no right to criticize your decisions.
I'm simply reflecting my own selfish desires on you because I care for you.
[her anger does not fade, and while there is something bitter that twists in her at the idea of being cared for - something guilty, something touched, something disbelieving - she presses on]
Then allow me to say that caring for someone matters not if it is only in feeling, not action.
Knowing that you would rather inflict loss upon me than suffer it yourself is selfish indeed, and I will not say thank you.
I'm in no way the possessor of some greater understanding of you, or less selfishly hoping for yours and others' protection and safety.
I'm just a fallible, imperfect human.
[she withdraws a small ribbon-wrapped jar from her pocket, and carefully places it on a wooden ledge marking off a line of flowers in the garden. within, obscured slightly by the ribbon, is a black tea shot with blue flowers.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
No.
I understand your offer, but I refuse.
no subject
Then leave.
[her voice is icy, and her emotions are shut behind steel gates.]
If all you intend then is to take from me, and apologize to make yourself feel better, then leave.
You are the benefactor of enough generosity and good will you do not need to seek mine.
no subject
You ask me to take care of Dimitri, then ask me to kill his leader.
Do you not see what you do for all of them?
You are their pillar. They can move forward because you exist.
no subject
when she speaks, her voice is soft at first:] Oh. I see. You seek to lecture me, as if you are my teacher. How quaint.
It's interesting. You fall on your sword, and make yourself a public enemy, even knowing all who have shed tears for you. You apologize for hurting me, and then say you will only hurt me again, and again, and again because that is more merciful than allowing me to save even one person in my care. You will not allow others the chance of the same action you are taking yourself.
What an interesting person you are, to have a complex that makes you so certain you get to decide who lives and dies.
I had not thought to criticize or condescend you on your choices until now, Byleth. At least pay me enough respect to do the same.
no subject
You're right.
[it's... an accurate read, she thinks. a wholly accurate encapsulation.]
I'm not your teacher, and I have no right to criticize your decisions.
I'm simply reflecting my own selfish desires on you because I care for you.
no subject
Then allow me to say that caring for someone matters not if it is only in feeling, not action.
Knowing that you would rather inflict loss upon me than suffer it yourself is selfish indeed, and I will not say thank you.
no subject
I'm in no way the possessor of some greater understanding of you, or less selfishly hoping for yours and others' protection and safety.
I'm just a fallible, imperfect human.
[she withdraws a small ribbon-wrapped jar from her pocket, and carefully places it on a wooden ledge marking off a line of flowers in the garden. within, obscured slightly by the ribbon, is a black tea shot with blue flowers.]
Thank you for granting me some of your time.
[and she turns, walking to leave the garden.]