Silverlight Terrace i won't fight the fire, i feel the rain fall down

Her reaction was not the sort he expected, not in the slightest. For all their encounters, all their little rendezvous, she had always been a domineering essence that never faltered or wavered from her course. It was that particular headstrong approach that had appealed to him, and she danced to whatever song he created from that essence whether he played pied piper or snake charmer. Long ago he felt that had only been a ruse now turned genuine, and so he had anticipated her to have some clever riposte and go springing away from him just as she had time and time again.

So to see her falter, to sense that hesitation as she tried to compose a response and draw her gaze out to the mountains that held her ever tightly, it turned all he knew of her and placed it gently on its ear. Rendered sober and silent, his features softened with her words—words that carried a far greater gravity than any she had swapped with him before, and he was ever an captive audience to the vulnerability she bared. It was a vulnerability he shared without acknowledging it; when was the last time he had ever trusted someone else other than family? His sisters had never steered him wrong (simply put: they barely gave him the opportunity to turn in the wrong direction, figuratively and literally) and even now only moments ago, he had questioned Hydra's intentions.

His gaze had dropped as she spoke, but at the moment he felt hers on him, they resumed their unwavering study. What an interesting turn of events, he thought, and then his gaze abandoned her for the sway of grasses beyond them and towards the not-so-unfamiliar rise of the stone pointed north. She may have thought him to have an answer for everything, but the truth was he made the majority of it up as he went along. This time was bound to be no different, but the usual steadiness he had paled in comparison to the norm.

”That's the thing about trust, it's always a risk,” he rejoined softly. ”We deem who we believe to be worthy to be the ones kept in our company, and the truth of it is that even the best fighters get tired of fighting. Life is a complicated thing I've come to understand and yet not understand at all, but I'd like to think it's more than just fighting constantly.” His muzzle crinkled uncomfortably at the thought, to think that life was only one fight after another re-branded as something else. He shook them away.

”It's not wrong to be uncertain of or to question another though, to not want to be burned again while the last one's still fresh. I always have and I suspect I always will, and perhaps that's why I like to do things my own way. Far easier to answer to myself than another and all. But I wouldn't make these little trips for a chance rendezvous with you if I didn't trust you enough, or wouldn't be willing to fight for you.”

”You can't always think of things as a fight, Princess. It's far easier to let things be as they'll be. All the right pieces will fall into place as they should,” and how that seemed so dismissive to fall out of his mouth. She had been burned time and time again and had every right to have reservations. He couldn't fault her for that when he was often prone to doing the same.

Of course, he had considered the possibility that perhaps even he was not worthy of her either.

this is a lot longer than i planned on but i guess this is why i shouldn't be handed a laptop