[ She doesn't have any words that will help with this, but then she has always lived a life where words of consolation were meaningless. Where death was so prevalent and every day they had not time to mourn. She remembers in her youth receiving little more than a pat on the shoulder and a nudge to keep walking. Or a silent moment spent staring at atrocity, unable to look away in good conscience, before being forced to continue on with the day.
She wants to do a little better than that, for him, and they have tools beyond words for it now.
She opens up, inhibited, to give him all the strength she has to give. It is easier, to be strong for others. To reassure them everything will be alright, easier to desire their courage than to convince oneself. Her presence is pleasant, enveloping like warm water with the scent of smoke and flowers. Benevolent, sisterly, she just doesn't want to see this poor little hero wilt. ]
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She wants to do a little better than that, for him, and they have tools beyond words for it now.
She opens up, inhibited, to give him all the strength she has to give. It is easier, to be strong for others. To reassure them everything will be alright, easier to desire their courage than to convince oneself. Her presence is pleasant, enveloping like warm water with the scent of smoke and flowers. Benevolent, sisterly, she just doesn't want to see this poor little hero wilt. ]