[It's a good question. She considers it for a long moment, trying to figure out how to put it. It's not a question she's ever answered purposefully. It's the sort of question that, back home, she'd always ducked with all of her heart.
But he already knows so much about her.
And... she wants him to know more about her, she realizes.]
The reason... faeries can be affected by the mors is because they've sinned.
[A beat, and she frowns, wrinkling her nose.]
No... some of them were simply born into that sin. To be a faerie of Faerie Britain is to be a sinner, regardless of what you've done.
But I'm not a faerie from Faerie Britain. I'm from somewhere else-- [Where doesn't really matter, not really. She doesn't remember it.] --and I was sent there to save them.
[There's no great confidence in her words at that last statement. No certainty. No pride. She just sounds tired, and matter-of-fact.]
[ So that must be her burden. To become a saviour for some place she has no connection to. And it's not even something she wants to do, judging by the time of her voice. And unwilling saviour, then. She has a purpose, but it's not one she wants.
In reality, it was the same for him, wasn't it? He'd had a purpose—which he fulfilled upon creation—but that wasn't what he wanted either, was it? Or perhaps he was just making up excuses so he wouldn't be angry at her for having something he desperately wanted. ...no, that wasn't true. He wasn't angry at her at all. She looked far too tired to earn his ire. ]
You... [ don't sound like you want to do it. So— ] —why?
[... That's a good question. Altria isn't surprised by it, but it seems she also doesn't have a good answer; she breathes out a slow, rueful sigh, rubbing the back of her neck.]
... I don't know.
[That's the honest truth.]
I've almost given up so many times... [And it probably would've been easier to, really.] At first I just didn't want to disappoint anyone, but they all hate me now anyway, so that doesn't really matter anymore...
[Gareth, Percival, Oberon... all of the people she cared about who she didn't want to disappoint are either dead or on their way out--or not of that world to begin with.]
Maybe... I just thought... If I kept going, then someday... I'd find out for myself.
[What's been keeping her going. What she's been fighting so hard for.]
[ He doesn't understand her motivations. It's not logic that she's running on, at this point. Perhaps it's a sense of responsibility. But he doesn't like it—that she's dragging herself through something she doesn't even want to do. But to voice his opinion on it... it doesn't feel right, to interfere with her purpose like that. As much as he wants to.
So he's silent for a long moment. ]
...I see.
[ It's the most he can muster, at the end. What else could he say? He couldn't even accompany her on that journey, so she didn't have to suffer alone. It would all be empty words, stating the obvious or dredging up desires that oughtn't be voiced. ]
[She doesn't know where they go from here either. In the end, that's her duty. In the end, that's what she's decided to do, too. Even though it'll kill her. Even though it's made her miserable.
But now... it's made him upset too, and she... wishes that wasn't the case.
(She's the one betraying him again.
She's the one hurting him this time.)]
... Well! It's okay! [It's not, but... it has to be, too.] I'm almost finished with it now.
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But he already knows so much about her.
And... she wants him to know more about her, she realizes.]
The reason... faeries can be affected by the mors is because they've sinned.
[A beat, and she frowns, wrinkling her nose.]
No... some of them were simply born into that sin. To be a faerie of Faerie Britain is to be a sinner, regardless of what you've done.
But I'm not a faerie from Faerie Britain. I'm from somewhere else-- [Where doesn't really matter, not really. She doesn't remember it.] --and I was sent there to save them.
[There's no great confidence in her words at that last statement. No certainty. No pride. She just sounds tired, and matter-of-fact.]
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In reality, it was the same for him, wasn't it? He'd had a purpose—which he fulfilled upon creation—but that wasn't what he wanted either, was it? Or perhaps he was just making up excuses so he wouldn't be angry at her for having something he desperately wanted. ...no, that wasn't true. He wasn't angry at her at all. She looked far too tired to earn his ire. ]
You... [ don't sound like you want to do it. So— ] —why?
[ Why haven't you given up the role yet? ]
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... I don't know.
[That's the honest truth.]
I've almost given up so many times... [And it probably would've been easier to, really.] At first I just didn't want to disappoint anyone, but they all hate me now anyway, so that doesn't really matter anymore...
[Gareth, Percival, Oberon... all of the people she cared about who she didn't want to disappoint are either dead or on their way out--or not of that world to begin with.]
Maybe... I just thought... If I kept going, then someday... I'd find out for myself.
[What's been keeping her going. What she's been fighting so hard for.]
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So he's silent for a long moment. ]
...I see.
[ It's the most he can muster, at the end. What else could he say? He couldn't even accompany her on that journey, so she didn't have to suffer alone. It would all be empty words, stating the obvious or dredging up desires that oughtn't be voiced. ]
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But now... it's made him upset too, and she... wishes that wasn't the case.
(She's the one betraying him again.
She's the one hurting him this time.)]
... Well! It's okay! [It's not, but... it has to be, too.] I'm almost finished with it now.
So don't worry too much, okay?