[ it is not the shield that bears heavy on her shoulders now, though, nor the weight that keeps her own eyes downcast. but she reattaches the shield to his arm regardless, because her arms will soon be busy helping him along anyway. there is a thin line to her lips, and a knot to her brow as she does so, reminded with the action of what had transpired last he had it on. it is a bitter, burning taste on her tongue that will take some time to be washed out, if it ever will.
once done she reclaims her spot at his side, slipping his arm around her shoulders, but though the shield has been transferred, the weight altogether remains the same. still, she presses on, dragging her feet. ]
We'll stop by the bathroom first, [ she says in an otherwise dull tone. feigned casualness for an otherwise heavy situation. ] I assume you'll want to get cleaned.
[ achilles will soon find that he cannot simply have both — either his pride has been stolen, or it is his pride that spurs him on now, for how can something taken from you fuel you forward. if the former, then all he is left with is shame, for shame is pride's cousin, the other side of the rusted coin, the other end of a dirty blade. and if the latter, then what reason does he have for his anger, if his precious pride had not been taken after all.
perhaps he'd been right after all. perhaps the battle is no place for a woman, where common sense might prevail and prevent it from ever beginning. ]
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once done she reclaims her spot at his side, slipping his arm around her shoulders, but though the shield has been transferred, the weight altogether remains the same. still, she presses on, dragging her feet. ]
We'll stop by the bathroom first, [ she says in an otherwise dull tone. feigned casualness for an otherwise heavy situation. ] I assume you'll want to get cleaned.
[ achilles will soon find that he cannot simply have both — either his pride has been stolen, or it is his pride that spurs him on now, for how can something taken from you fuel you forward. if the former, then all he is left with is shame, for shame is pride's cousin, the other side of the rusted coin, the other end of a dirty blade. and if the latter, then what reason does he have for his anger, if his precious pride had not been taken after all.
perhaps he'd been right after all. perhaps the battle is no place for a woman, where common sense might prevail and prevent it from ever beginning. ]