the firestarters always get the burns
and the good guys never get the girl
The white winged mare complies - waits for his answer, a flat-toned one, but it is accompanied by a wry look. It’s not about her, she knows. She’s not even sure if it could be about anyone else but himself. She smiles lightly at his almost-a-command, distract me. And she will, at least, she hopes.
”My name’s Ilma.” she tells him - nothing more, for his name rings a bell. He has children in Hyaline; and yes, he might have gotten that bronze on him in the Games she also partook in, although with her lack of speed she did not win anything to show for it. She knows who he is and, unfortunately, she knows that is not the kind of distraction he could have hoped for. So her homeland, children and love, are all things she can’t start a proper conversation on.
But he finds a question, a general one but not without it’s own heaviness. She can do nothing but answer truthfully. ”Twice over. It’s not something to deal with lightly, I know.” she tells him; it seems he has been carrying his regrets with him and let them grow over time. While usually talking things out and asking forgiveness was easy in itself, they all tend to carry their weights with them - often unnecessarily.
Something occurs to her though.
”Have you tried forgiving yourself first?” she wonders aloud.
@[Castile]