I could. Here-- [He reaches to the nape of his neck, retrieves the gleaming golden shard, now with a drop of her own blood crystallised in the middle, and holds it out to her. Maybe it's because she held it once already without harming it, maybe it's because it carries that little piece of her within it now, but he feels more comfortable with her holding it than he did before.
There's always that reflexive fear-- what if she changes her mind? What if she betrays him? But for this to work, for him to get through to her at all, he knows he has to disregard that voice of doubt.]
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There's always that reflexive fear-- what if she changes her mind? What if she betrays him? But for this to work, for him to get through to her at all, he knows he has to disregard that voice of doubt.]
Take it, and I'll say it again.