[ the difference, she supposes, is how willingly — foolishly — she had surrendered her own memories. astarion has had no such choice, or the meager illusion of it; time is simply a cruel, faded painting of its own. if she had a penchant for self-pity, the contrast between them would staunch it.
perhaps that's why she's merciful enough not to point out, pedantically, that concern is just another cousin to fear, no matter what he chooses to call it. ]
Different doesn't have to be so terrible.
You'll find I quite understand what it's like — neither being the person you were before it was taken from you, nor the person you thought you were for so long, but something else altogether. Something unknown to yourself.
no subject
[ the difference, she supposes, is how willingly — foolishly — she had surrendered her own memories. astarion has had no such choice, or the meager illusion of it; time is simply a cruel, faded painting of its own. if she had a penchant for self-pity, the contrast between them would staunch it.
perhaps that's why she's merciful enough not to point out, pedantically, that concern is just another cousin to fear, no matter what he chooses to call it. ]
Different doesn't have to be so terrible.
You'll find I quite understand what it's like — neither being the person you were before it was taken from you, nor the person you thought you were for so long, but something else altogether. Something unknown to yourself.