:raises an eyebrow at him: Oh, /I’m/ tragic? Don’t be absurd. But yes. If I … take in too much, it hurts. Convulsions, actually, not fire. You :looks away: your heart screams pain like it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.
:eyes flicker downward: Please, don’t…:sigh:
I only mean that…to be cursed to carry the weight of others’ sentiment must be quite a burden. I cannot imagine how you can stand it.
You did ask. Don’t ask if you don’t want the answer. :looks at him, hard-eyed: I’m your opposite in some ways, god of lies, born of ice. I’m the daughter of the fire, and I always speak truth.
Emotions don’t scare me. I’ve seen them all, I’ve tasted them all. It only hurts when I try to deny them.
:looks away, drinks again, speaking softly: Is that what this is about, then? You have a … sentiment you need carried?
:scoffs: I have no sentiment. I am heavy with too many thoughts and not enough to do with them, I suppose. Heavy with memory…expectation…I know not what.
Aren’t you supposed to tell me? :smiles weakly, takes another drink: You must have exquisite sentiment of your own then?
Oh, aye, I can tell you your … sentiments. But not always why, or what you would do with them. :swirls the wine in the glass: And yes, I feel, strongly. Overwhelmingly, sometimes. I can understand a desire to stop thinking.
But I would not be without it. :takes a clip out of her hair and starts to play with the river of it as it comes down over her shoulders: Just like my hair, it’s so much a part of my self-identity that to lose it would be to lose myself.
They tried, once. I had rather burn, suffer, for a thousand years than not feel.