( his eyes say it all. more than words ever could.
it's what she thought, but she couldn't not ask. some might find the question redundant, the damage done speaking for itself. but the devil is in the details. some people react to trauma and guilt differently. perhaps it shouldn't surprise her that freya is only motivated to work harder. but it also wouldn't surprise her to find out freya has also isolated herself, the way elena has isolated herself a bit, too. even from caroline. because caroline will look at her with anguish for all the things she didn't do, the choice she did not make.
the choice she couldn't have made, for what would have stopped a thousand-year-old witch, bottomless in her power?
this is nothing he'll speak of, she knows. much like she will not acknowledge it. if she gave it any thought, she'd think it brings them comfort to pretend it isn't there, swimming somewhere in the depths, out of the surface's reach: a terrible and dark understanding. so she sits, and they drink tea, the silence an odd comfort of its own. it's almost a relief she doesn't need to say anything, much like she wouldn't expect him to say anything, either.
but if anything is true in their world, it's that silence never lasts. there is always the next storm. )
no subject
it's what she thought, but she couldn't not ask. some might find the question redundant, the damage done speaking for itself. but the devil is in the details. some people react to trauma and guilt differently. perhaps it shouldn't surprise her that freya is only motivated to work harder. but it also wouldn't surprise her to find out freya has also isolated herself, the way elena has isolated herself a bit, too. even from caroline. because caroline will look at her with anguish for all the things she didn't do, the choice she did not make.
the choice she couldn't have made, for what would have stopped a thousand-year-old witch, bottomless in her power?
this is nothing he'll speak of, she knows. much like she will not acknowledge it. if she gave it any thought, she'd think it brings them comfort to pretend it isn't there, swimming somewhere in the depths, out of the surface's reach: a terrible and dark understanding. so she sits, and they drink tea, the silence an odd comfort of its own. it's almost a relief she doesn't need to say anything, much like she wouldn't expect him to say anything, either.
but if anything is true in their world, it's that silence never lasts. there is always the next storm. )