[ hypocrisy is not noticing he'd been avoiding her eye until she finally decides to stop doing it herself, and feeling a twinge of hurt because of it. hypocrisy is feeling a small tinge of satisfaction when she sees him stumble so, after drowning him in tears when she begged him not to get hurt again.
she does not look, at least, propriety and her own overwhelming sense of shame drawing her gaze away when his legs buckle, and he holds out a hand to catch himself. she does not stoop down to help him, knowing it would only add an extra knife to the wound should she even make motion to. instead her hand falls over his shoulder, a gentle reassurance of her presence there, before she leans down instead to heft the tarnished shield from the dust. it certainly does not look splendid now, bearing the marks of a fight she can already see so vividly in her mind. but the metal is heavy, and glimmers still in the fading light. a part of her feels as if she has no right to touch it, let alone carry it...
and a larger, louder part of her feels that other part can suck it. ]
We're not too far from the town, [ she lies, and she has never been a very good liar. ] We should be able to make it back before complete nightfall.
[ she holds out her arm for him, slipping it around his torso so she might nestle there against his side; a half-hug, or so she will claim it is, but it will do well to help steady him as he walks.
no subject
she does not look, at least, propriety and her own overwhelming sense of shame drawing her gaze away when his legs buckle, and he holds out a hand to catch himself. she does not stoop down to help him, knowing it would only add an extra knife to the wound should she even make motion to. instead her hand falls over his shoulder, a gentle reassurance of her presence there, before she leans down instead to heft the tarnished shield from the dust. it certainly does not look splendid now, bearing the marks of a fight she can already see so vividly in her mind. but the metal is heavy, and glimmers still in the fading light. a part of her feels as if she has no right to touch it, let alone carry it...
and a larger, louder part of her feels that other part can suck it. ]
We're not too far from the town, [ she lies, and she has never been a very good liar. ] We should be able to make it back before complete nightfall.
[ she holds out her arm for him, slipping it around his torso so she might nestle there against his side; a half-hug, or so she will claim it is, but it will do well to help steady him as he walks.