[There are times when Sieglinde almost resents her own intelligence. The ability to deduce, to make connections and fill in the blanks provided for her by the worlds they visit, the blanks between the cause and the cures... she isn't as good, with the blanks between people.
But sometimes... she hates being right.
Because she also knew... that Achilles would probably go. That if given the choice to return to his own world, even knowing the fate that awaited him... that he would surely choose it. Even if it meant death... and maybe perhaps because it meant death, arrival to a place Sieglinde did pray existed, to be reunited with who he had lost.
But.]
...
[The words still do not come easily, nor does acceptance even knowing that accepting is all she can do, so to fill the void Sieglinde sets to pouring the wine, to placing a goblet in front of him as if it were a normal meal and not a last one, like her brows weren't knit together and her eyes not shimmering and her lips not trembling in failing effort to remain removed, to have the last memory of her be one of... of strength, of maturity, something-]
... You could.
[But despite her own feelings on the matter, the feeling that she might burst into tears any moment if she weren't careful, there's little judgement or condemnation in her voice.
Only clarification.
He could avoid that fate. Ask ALASTAIR, perhaps stay with Audentes... but he wouldn't.
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But sometimes... she hates being right.
Because she also knew... that Achilles would probably go. That if given the choice to return to his own world, even knowing the fate that awaited him... that he would surely choose it. Even if it meant death... and maybe perhaps because it meant death, arrival to a place Sieglinde did pray existed, to be reunited with who he had lost.
But.]
...
[The words still do not come easily, nor does acceptance even knowing that accepting is all she can do, so to fill the void Sieglinde sets to pouring the wine, to placing a goblet in front of him as if it were a normal meal and not a last one, like her brows weren't knit together and her eyes not shimmering and her lips not trembling in failing effort to remain removed, to have the last memory of her be one of... of strength, of maturity, something-]
... You could.
[But despite her own feelings on the matter, the feeling that she might burst into tears any moment if she weren't careful, there's little judgement or condemnation in her voice.
Only clarification.
He could avoid that fate. Ask ALASTAIR, perhaps stay with Audentes... but he wouldn't.
Would he.]