[ That's very cute of Mordred, but Gray lets that thought go unspoken as always. The memory of her child self smiling takes up more of her attention. A small percentage of herself, her original body, still held out against the inevitable march toward Arthurification in that moment, so deeply buried in the soft lines of that face that even Gray at her current age could hardly tell it apart. The girl she was at birth is dead and getting deader by the day in the ramshackle refuge of her memory. Yet if her five-year-old self at the pinnacle of her misery found enough courage to smile and persist with will, then who would she be as a sixteen-year-old to ever give in?
These are all very pathetic thoughts, competing with an actual child who is technically her own self, so she doesn't voice them either. She just shakes her head solemnly at Mordred. ]
It's okay. I thought you were perfect.
[ Above and beyond expectations, really. Things probably would have been different if she'd had someone like Mordred to talk to her at the time. ]
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These are all very pathetic thoughts, competing with an actual child who is technically her own self, so she doesn't voice them either. She just shakes her head solemnly at Mordred. ]
It's okay. I thought you were perfect.
[ Above and beyond expectations, really. Things probably would have been different if she'd had someone like Mordred to talk to her at the time. ]
Thank you.