(no subject)
She had waited a few days before reading the letter. It had burned a proverbial hole in her pocket, and many times she'd taken it out and smoothed its folds, running her fingers over the paper as if she could divine its contents by touch.
Finally she'd given in. Sitting tucked up against the outer wall of her shelter, she'd unfolded the letter and read it carefully once, then twice, as Talat whuffed lightly at her hair. She didn't know what cheesy meant at first, but a trace of Duo still left in her mind supplied the meaning quick enough.
I've never been able to write or even say anything like this when I was in my own body, but there's something about you that gives me the ability to. She wondered at that; she'd never thought of Matt as particularly reserved, but she knew she felt things more keenly than she ought sometimes... she didn't know whether to be glad or not, of the things he'd experienced while he lived as her for those two days.
After a third read she folded it up again, and put it back in her pocket, leaning her head back against her shelter. Talat nosed her in the shoulder, and she looked at him with a slight smile. "What do I say, Talat?" she asked softly. "I'm not ready for anything like this... I wasn't ready with Tor, when I saw it in his face, and I'm not now with Matt... but I wouldn't hurt him for anything..." She sighed unpleasantly and tugged lightly on the stallion's mane. "This is why I fare better alone," she murmured, her face troubled.
She sat for long moments in thought, sometimes talking to herself, sometimes not. She knew not whether to speak of it to Matt or not, whether to seek him out or wait for him to happen upon her. She dreaded the conversation, as she dreaded most conversations with intent behind them, and would gladly have climbed on Talat and ridden into the woods for good rather than face the possibility of hurting Matt.
In the end she did what she always did when faced with a problem she couldn't kill. She ignored it. Things would fall out as they would, and she could not change or alter it. The letter stayed in her pocket.
Finally she'd given in. Sitting tucked up against the outer wall of her shelter, she'd unfolded the letter and read it carefully once, then twice, as Talat whuffed lightly at her hair. She didn't know what cheesy meant at first, but a trace of Duo still left in her mind supplied the meaning quick enough.
I've never been able to write or even say anything like this when I was in my own body, but there's something about you that gives me the ability to. She wondered at that; she'd never thought of Matt as particularly reserved, but she knew she felt things more keenly than she ought sometimes... she didn't know whether to be glad or not, of the things he'd experienced while he lived as her for those two days.
After a third read she folded it up again, and put it back in her pocket, leaning her head back against her shelter. Talat nosed her in the shoulder, and she looked at him with a slight smile. "What do I say, Talat?" she asked softly. "I'm not ready for anything like this... I wasn't ready with Tor, when I saw it in his face, and I'm not now with Matt... but I wouldn't hurt him for anything..." She sighed unpleasantly and tugged lightly on the stallion's mane. "This is why I fare better alone," she murmured, her face troubled.
She sat for long moments in thought, sometimes talking to herself, sometimes not. She knew not whether to speak of it to Matt or not, whether to seek him out or wait for him to happen upon her. She dreaded the conversation, as she dreaded most conversations with intent behind them, and would gladly have climbed on Talat and ridden into the woods for good rather than face the possibility of hurting Matt.
In the end she did what she always did when faced with a problem she couldn't kill. She ignored it. Things would fall out as they would, and she could not change or alter it. The letter stayed in her pocket.