it erupts like a volcano, then subsides.
And when it subsides, you have to make a decision.
He’s being far too nice to her. She had not expected nice, not after their previous encounters. She wonders briefly if it’s a product of her injuries, or if he is genuinely growing to respect her. She rather hopes it’s the second option. She would hate to be pitied, especially by him. She is not weak. Not by a long shot. But with these terrible things that keep happening to her, she has to wonder. What is it about her that attracts such tragedy?
He is incredibly fortunate that fate had smiled kindly upon him. Very few are so lucky. She certainly never had been. Nor, apparently, are any of her family destined to lead happy, uneventful lives. But she hopes, prays, that she can change that for Lirren, even while fearing that she will not.
He continues then, snapping her back to the present, out of her depressing thoughts. Her russet gaze jerks to his as he speaks, his words taking a moment to sink in. A magician. A short, hollow laugh escapes her. The thought had occurred to her. But if it had been a magician, it had either been the most cruel, vindictive magician she had ever encountered, or the most inept. But then, considering her father, she doesn’t doubt magicians could be cruel or vindictive.
But it hadn’t felt like a magician, and that is what bothers her.
“Yes, I’m familiar with a number of magicians. I try to avoid them as a rule.”
She doesn’t mention that she’s indebted to one. That isn’t a story he needs to hear. Still, Eight had no need to torture her. All he need do is make a request. She is beholden to him for a single favor, any favor he might ask. He had no need to coerce or torture her into anything. The others however, she could not speak for.
And then he continues, sympathizing with her loss, an understanding sorrow in his gaze. He has or had a mother he loves, of this she is certain. It startles her, this realization. The humanization of him is not something she had expected, not something she is prepared for. She stares at him for several long minutes, hearing his joke but ignoring it as she continues to gaze at him in silent bafflement. When she finally does speak, her words are soft, a note of confusion edging into her tone.
“Why are you being so kind to me?”
You have to work out whether your roots
have so entwined together
that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.
Because this is what love is.