What matters most is how well you walk through the fire.
She just lets him rant, knife still sitting on the hide, her eyes on him and her hands quiet at her side. It’s really strange to see her like that, so still, as he tries to keep himself together. It’d be easier if he just fell apart, if he finally caved and started screaming and crying and throwing things around the room. Honestly, she just wants him to hit his breaking point, because nothing else is going to change him. Nothing she says, nothing she does. They could try and pretend that the world wasn’t changing around them, but it wouldn’t make them happy. Not anymore. The world was changing, and there was no going back. It would drag her down and he’d see that too, and they’d still be in the same place they were now.
He gets up and heads to the door. She nearly lets him go, honestly. Nearly lets him go wallow in his own self-pity, in this misery of his own making, because he is a blind fool. A blind fool who has thrust way too much on her shoulders. She could not carry his happiness, she could not be his only reason for living. On her darkest days, certainly, the need to hunt to get food on the table for him had been the only thing that dragged her out of bed. Right after Erebor died, she had been tempted not to care, to just let death claim them all. She’d lived for him, but only briefly, till she’d remembered how to live for herself too.
She gets up, wrapping an arm through his and trying to pull him back, to sit him back down to work on the hide. The paper is in one hand, and she writes awkwardly, holding the pen in the hand that’s through his arm. I have been up since the ass crack of dawn waiting for you. To do this with me. I don’t ask you because I don’t need to ask. I know you’ll be there.” Why mention Ludo or ask him to help when she could just find him, just grab him as she’d always done and he’d be there? She didn’t think it required anymore explanation, and he was blind to not realize that she’d clearly been up waiting for him. Yes, she was doing something for herself, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want it to be done with him. She’d do things for him, too, if there was ever anything he actually wanted to do for himself.
Why does it have to be ‘or’, Korbin? Us or everyone else. Why can’t it be us and everyone else? Yes, things would change, but it didn’t diminish their relationship. She didn’t love him less because she could love others. She didn’t need him less because she could also rely on others now. Weaver is made of infinite capacity for love, for kindness, for caring, even if she tries to hide that. But he, of all people, should know who she is.
He gets up and heads to the door. She nearly lets him go, honestly. Nearly lets him go wallow in his own self-pity, in this misery of his own making, because he is a blind fool. A blind fool who has thrust way too much on her shoulders. She could not carry his happiness, she could not be his only reason for living. On her darkest days, certainly, the need to hunt to get food on the table for him had been the only thing that dragged her out of bed. Right after Erebor died, she had been tempted not to care, to just let death claim them all. She’d lived for him, but only briefly, till she’d remembered how to live for herself too.
She gets up, wrapping an arm through his and trying to pull him back, to sit him back down to work on the hide. The paper is in one hand, and she writes awkwardly, holding the pen in the hand that’s through his arm. I have been up since the ass crack of dawn waiting for you. To do this with me. I don’t ask you because I don’t need to ask. I know you’ll be there.” Why mention Ludo or ask him to help when she could just find him, just grab him as she’d always done and he’d be there? She didn’t think it required anymore explanation, and he was blind to not realize that she’d clearly been up waiting for him. Yes, she was doing something for herself, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want it to be done with him. She’d do things for him, too, if there was ever anything he actually wanted to do for himself.
Why does it have to be ‘or’, Korbin? Us or everyone else. Why can’t it be us and everyone else? Yes, things would change, but it didn’t diminish their relationship. She didn’t love him less because she could love others. She didn’t need him less because she could also rely on others now. Weaver is made of infinite capacity for love, for kindness, for caring, even if she tries to hide that. But he, of all people, should know who she is.
Weaver
