Water is a mirror, reflecting our strengths and weaknesses, our hopes and fears.
The question might seem broad to most, an idealistic wondering about unrealistic possibilities, but Elizabeth doesn't even hesitate, smiling softly like it should be obvious. "Share them with people." Her eyes shimmer with something akin to amusement, the reflection of sunlight off the mirrored pool they strive not to disturb. "Knowledge should be free to everyone. I wouldn't want to keep it to myself." Information and books and every other form of knowledge is something she's always shared with people - something she wants to share with people. Everyone should have all the tools necessary to live happy and meaningful lives, and what is knowledge if not the most versatile of tools - a veritable key to the world?
Elizabeth knows that people don't share her more radical opinion on information, believing that covert operations and secrets should be excluded - and in some cases she might agree - however, she stands by her beliefs, and not even the 'secrets of the world' would be tempting enough to keep to herself. Still, she spins the question back on him. "And what would you do? With the secrets of the world?"
Iskra's words bring a subtle smile to her face, the mix of humor and praise renewing some of the tired energy that occasionally builds in her chest - never enough to crush or burn, but enough to dampen and drag at the motivation she carries. Elizabeth doesn't need outside validation to give her purpose - having always found the work itself to be fascinating - but knowing that someone else values what she does reminds her that not everyone would label her actions as obnoxious or meddling. It calms the old wounds that sometimes ache. A quiet, barely recognized tension eases from her shoulders, like a constant hum that goes silent or the brightening of a slowly darkening room that hadn't yet begun to bother her.
She relaxes in such a small fraction that the water doesn't shift, only the slightest release from her features any indication of the effect his words have, how they bring about a peace. "Thanks. I certainly try." Even if she doesn't always succeed. After all, she's one person, and Caido can sometimes be larger than people think.
Maybe that's why she doesn't know exactly what 'legacy' Iskra has been left with. She listens attentively, watching his gaze as she pieces together what emotions he may be feeling. There's a grief there that he disguises with the tilt of his smile, perhaps an ounce of regret or disappointment that she doesn't know the source of, and maybe even a fear of failing in this task, one that he describes with a level of gravitas - something legendary and unattainable.
Her gaze is a pile of softened autumn leaves, encouraging him to dive into the cushion of security she provides - the opportunity to be honest with her, and himself as she says, "That sounds heavy, but is it something you want to carry?" Or is it a burden that they've shackled him with? Or a grave they've left him to dig alone? One he'll eventually be forced to die in, unhappy and exhausted by the weight of it all.
Elizabeth knows that people don't share her more radical opinion on information, believing that covert operations and secrets should be excluded - and in some cases she might agree - however, she stands by her beliefs, and not even the 'secrets of the world' would be tempting enough to keep to herself. Still, she spins the question back on him. "And what would you do? With the secrets of the world?"
Iskra's words bring a subtle smile to her face, the mix of humor and praise renewing some of the tired energy that occasionally builds in her chest - never enough to crush or burn, but enough to dampen and drag at the motivation she carries. Elizabeth doesn't need outside validation to give her purpose - having always found the work itself to be fascinating - but knowing that someone else values what she does reminds her that not everyone would label her actions as obnoxious or meddling. It calms the old wounds that sometimes ache. A quiet, barely recognized tension eases from her shoulders, like a constant hum that goes silent or the brightening of a slowly darkening room that hadn't yet begun to bother her.
She relaxes in such a small fraction that the water doesn't shift, only the slightest release from her features any indication of the effect his words have, how they bring about a peace. "Thanks. I certainly try." Even if she doesn't always succeed. After all, she's one person, and Caido can sometimes be larger than people think.
Maybe that's why she doesn't know exactly what 'legacy' Iskra has been left with. She listens attentively, watching his gaze as she pieces together what emotions he may be feeling. There's a grief there that he disguises with the tilt of his smile, perhaps an ounce of regret or disappointment that she doesn't know the source of, and maybe even a fear of failing in this task, one that he describes with a level of gravitas - something legendary and unattainable.
Her gaze is a pile of softened autumn leaves, encouraging him to dive into the cushion of security she provides - the opportunity to be honest with her, and himself as she says, "That sounds heavy, but is it something you want to carry?" Or is it a burden that they've shackled him with? Or a grave they've left him to dig alone? One he'll eventually be forced to die in, unhappy and exhausted by the weight of it all.
Elizabeth
