[ Ah... Psyche feels that flinch and eases back just a little, her expression softening in worry. She doesn't go far. It's so hard for them to understand each other sometimes — and small wonder, seeing why, two people who each find other people strange and incomprehensible in their own ways.
But Waltaquin is still touching her elbow, so while she withdraws the confining constraint of the hug, she still leans a little against her so Waltaquin knows that Psyche isn't pulling away from her. ]
Home... wasn't any better, was it? That memory of your father. [ Not bad in the same way as Haleg Lyn. A different emptiness. Psyche worries a little at her lip. ] ...I said you were like Medea, but... we're a little alike, too. My parents hid me away. I think... in their own way, they were frightened of me, too.
[And she sounds genuinely contemplative, as if there's never been any thought in her mind as to whether one or the other was better or worse or as if she has considered whether or not it's right to hold it against anyone who didn't know how to handle her. People have roles they interact with, and those motions are all part of it.]
Around this time I decided I had no intention of ever being locked away. My power's mine, and I can use it as I want. So, in a way, I was free. [And still lonely, it feels like, but in a shattered way where lonely suddenly did not matter.] When he did die, I didn't know how to react. [It's not a confession. It isn't guilty.]
You can heal people and you can harm them, so of course that's something to fear... What it actually means is you can harm them.
[ Psyche closes her eyes again for a moment, although she hardly needs to in order to recall Waltaquin's memory with almost painful, vivid clarity. ]
I'm sorry. That he wasn't a better father to you. I know there's no point regretting it, and no way to go back. It's just... unfair.
[ Like for Medea. And maybe it sounds trivial or childish to complain about fairness, but it's still true. Medea deserved better, and so did Waltaquin. She lets out a slow, thoughtful sigh. ]
Even if I only had healing, it's still... something strange and unnatural, in my world. People are afraid of things they can't understand, aren't they? I'm not sure if I could blame anyone for that. If someone saw me heal after being stabbed in the heart, it would be normal for them to think that I'm a monster, wouldn't it? Maybe it amounts to the same thing.
[Psyche is doing the same thing she did in that memory, maybe: letting herself feel things for others in their place. Waltaquin perhaps is no longer empty as she felt before unlocking her power at Haleg Lyn, but a pot with a hole doesn't hold water well.]
I don't need your apology. [It's not a reprimand, but - reassurance, in the only way Waltaquin can really provide it.]
The way you're talking... Do you feel like a monster? [People look at her as if she is one, but she's never felt that for herself. Though she can't imagine the same loathing and distrust that followed her, from Father and Shivat and Iscarion and all the others, levied at Psyche in the same way, it doesn't surprise her. Fear of the unknown Medea in that memory was a monster to everyone who saw her, except the ones who understood.]
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But Waltaquin is still touching her elbow, so while she withdraws the confining constraint of the hug, she still leans a little against her so Waltaquin knows that Psyche isn't pulling away from her. ]
Home... wasn't any better, was it? That memory of your father. [ Not bad in the same way as Haleg Lyn. A different emptiness. Psyche worries a little at her lip. ] ...I said you were like Medea, but... we're a little alike, too. My parents hid me away. I think... in their own way, they were frightened of me, too.
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[And she sounds genuinely contemplative, as if there's never been any thought in her mind as to whether one or the other was better or worse or as if she has considered whether or not it's right to hold it against anyone who didn't know how to handle her. People have roles they interact with, and those motions are all part of it.]
Around this time I decided I had no intention of ever being locked away. My power's mine, and I can use it as I want. So, in a way, I was free. [And still lonely, it feels like, but in a shattered way where lonely suddenly did not matter.] When he did die, I didn't know how to react. [It's not a confession. It isn't guilty.]
You can heal people and you can harm them, so of course that's something to fear... What it actually means is you can harm them.
no subject
I'm sorry. That he wasn't a better father to you. I know there's no point regretting it, and no way to go back. It's just... unfair.
[ Like for Medea. And maybe it sounds trivial or childish to complain about fairness, but it's still true. Medea deserved better, and so did Waltaquin. She lets out a slow, thoughtful sigh. ]
Even if I only had healing, it's still... something strange and unnatural, in my world. People are afraid of things they can't understand, aren't they? I'm not sure if I could blame anyone for that. If someone saw me heal after being stabbed in the heart, it would be normal for them to think that I'm a monster, wouldn't it? Maybe it amounts to the same thing.
no subject
I don't need your apology. [It's not a reprimand, but - reassurance, in the only way Waltaquin can really provide it.]
The way you're talking... Do you feel like a monster? [People look at her as if she is one, but she's never felt that for herself. Though she can't imagine the same loathing and distrust that followed her, from Father and Shivat and Iscarion and all the others, levied at Psyche in the same way, it doesn't surprise her. Fear of the unknown Medea in that memory was a monster to everyone who saw her, except the ones who understood.]