[Her hand is her own again, and she feels-- cold. Which is also absurd, really, because this is a dream, but. She can't shake the feeling like she's done something wrong.
I wasn't joking or making fun of you.
She would understand if she allowed herself to think about it, but she doesn't. It scares her, almost to the same extent that being honest scares her (exactly to the same extent, really, because what is she doing if not deceiving herself?), and so she clamps down on that thought before it can come to fruition, shoving it down into the darkness where she keeps all the things she would rather not think about herself.
She clasps her hands over her chest as she stands, like that will banish the sudden chill she feels. Like it will hide rabbit-like thumping of her heart.]
I... will let you get your rest, then.
[She turns. The leaves of the tree flutter in a non-existent wind, and in the next moment, she's gone.]
no subject
I wasn't joking or making fun of you.
She would understand if she allowed herself to think about it, but she doesn't. It scares her, almost to the same extent that being honest scares her (exactly to the same extent, really, because what is she doing if not deceiving herself?), and so she clamps down on that thought before it can come to fruition, shoving it down into the darkness where she keeps all the things she would rather not think about herself.
She clasps her hands over her chest as she stands, like that will banish the sudden chill she feels. Like it will hide rabbit-like thumping of her heart.]
I... will let you get your rest, then.
[She turns. The leaves of the tree flutter in a non-existent wind, and in the next moment, she's gone.]