[ Something tightens in her chest. Threatens to bubble up. She turns her attention fully to the soup in front of her to try and drown it, shovel food into her mouth like she can swallow down the feeling that makes her eyes burn just the same. It's not for her to dump on him. More to the point, she doesn't want to have to confront it, so she avoids it. ]
Yeah. Maybe.
[ She would need to know their names. Gods, she doesn't even know their names. Even she can feel how futile and absurd it is, how blind and silly her hope. But she grinds her teeth down rather than give it voice. Another spoonful of soup. ]
I'll go with you, at least. [ She puts that out there. It'll get him to stop asking for now, she thinks, and he might be right. If there's anything to find, she could find it. That's hope of a sort. She'll deal with the problem of how to keep him from seeing her futile search later. ] When you go. I used to know my way through those mountains.
no subject
Yeah. Maybe.
[ She would need to know their names. Gods, she doesn't even know their names. Even she can feel how futile and absurd it is, how blind and silly her hope. But she grinds her teeth down rather than give it voice. Another spoonful of soup. ]
I'll go with you, at least. [ She puts that out there. It'll get him to stop asking for now, she thinks, and he might be right. If there's anything to find, she could find it. That's hope of a sort. She'll deal with the problem of how to keep him from seeing her futile search later. ] When you go. I used to know my way through those mountains.