[It'd be difficult to fear him, knowing him as she does. She's too familiar with his goals and his ways and his heart - which, she is reminded with an uncomfortable clenching in her chest as she catches glimpses of the memories she's trying so hard not to look at, she has been so careless as to intrude upon - to fear him for himself. She can't fear him for the other person in his heart, either, not truly; the other person is the one who is a danger, and though that risk is included (at least for now) inextricably with Riku himself, she can't find it in her to be properly afraid of him.]
[She looks up at him after a few moments, hoping to find in the present something that will distract her mind from the past, from someone else's past but also, in a way, her own. (It makes her sick to think of how he's feeling now, of what those unwelcome memories leave in their wake.) Seeing him move closer, though - her eyes widen, jaw clamping down on an almost pained noise that she's trying hard not to let out - not from fear of him, never that, but from fear of herself. Her lips tremble slightly, though she manages to hold firm and does not back away. Even though it's dangerous, even though it worries her, the gesture means a lot to her. There's an instant during which she almost looks like she wants to cry because she does, she has for a while now except not for all of the same reasons yet that, too, she holds back.]
[It's true, she would fix him - no matter how long it took or how difficult it was. She would piece what there was of him back together with as much care and attention as she could possibly manage, but that... would he ever really be the same again? Could she trust herself with that, too, when she can't even trust herself not to break him in the first place? Would there even be pieces left that were big enough to fit together again? Or would his heart be nothing but a fine powder, were the entirety of her powers to be unleashed? Such thoughts are terrifying and she cannot help thinking of them, so when her mouth opens to respond, what comes out is somewhere between a gasp and a squeak, and she presses her lips together again to take in a shuddering breath.]
[Her arms starts to move before she can stop it, but once it's in the air and she realizes it's changed position, it's too late to back out, though it does slow in its path until finally it comes to rest over his, even more gently - it's barely more than a graze with the tips of her fingers - full of caution and the same worry that she'll hurt him, somehow, even if physically doing so would actually be the least of her concerns. Eventually, after some struggle, she gets out an earnest but almost broken,]
no subject
[She looks up at him after a few moments, hoping to find in the present something that will distract her mind from the past, from someone else's past but also, in a way, her own. (It makes her sick to think of how he's feeling now, of what those unwelcome memories leave in their wake.) Seeing him move closer, though - her eyes widen, jaw clamping down on an almost pained noise that she's trying hard not to let out - not from fear of him, never that, but from fear of herself. Her lips tremble slightly, though she manages to hold firm and does not back away. Even though it's dangerous, even though it worries her, the gesture means a lot to her. There's an instant during which she almost looks like she wants to cry
because she does, she has for a while now except not for all of the same reasonsyet that, too, she holds back.][It's true, she would fix him - no matter how long it took or how difficult it was. She would piece what there was of him back together with as much care and attention as she could possibly manage, but that... would he ever really be the same again? Could she trust herself with that, too, when she can't even trust herself not to break him in the first place? Would there even be pieces left that were big enough to fit together again? Or would his heart be nothing but a fine powder, were the entirety of her powers to be unleashed? Such thoughts are terrifying and she cannot help thinking of them, so when her mouth opens to respond, what comes out is somewhere between a gasp and a squeak, and she presses her lips together again to take in a shuddering breath.]
[Her arms starts to move before she can stop it, but once it's in the air and she realizes it's changed position, it's too late to back out, though it does slow in its path until finally it comes to rest over his, even more gently - it's barely more than a graze with the tips of her fingers - full of caution and the same worry that she'll hurt him, somehow, even if physically doing so would actually be the least of her concerns. Eventually, after some struggle, she gets out an earnest but almost broken,]
Thank you.