[When she became a strong enough sorceress. But she wasn't now. She hadn't been in her world, and she still wasn't. Sieglinde wanted to reject the hand that seemed so heavy on her head, wanted to reject the words of the man who last she'd spoke to called a drunkard and a fool.
Her vision blurred slightly as the tears began to sting in the corners of her eyes, as they began to spill out and down her cheeks.
It wasn't her fault, he said- but she hadn't been strong enough. And she'd stabbed those people, hurt those people, and it was still too fresh for words to sound rational or soothe what she'd done.
But she wanted to believe it- that it wasn't her fault. Even if she didn't want to hear it from someone she'd drawn blood from.
Even if she hugged the food he'd handed her, rocking slightly in attempts to stop her tears. Futile though it was.]
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Her vision blurred slightly as the tears began to sting in the corners of her eyes, as they began to spill out and down her cheeks.
It wasn't her fault, he said- but she hadn't been strong enough. And she'd stabbed those people, hurt those people, and it was still too fresh for words to sound rational or soothe what she'd done.
But she wanted to believe it- that it wasn't her fault. Even if she didn't want to hear it from someone she'd drawn blood from.
Even if she hugged the food he'd handed her, rocking slightly in attempts to stop her tears. Futile though it was.]