[Lup is quiet as Lucretia processes this, watching her friend slowly fall apart.
She's so full of different emotions over all of this, and it would be so easy to be cruel. To be bitter and resentful and fiery. Part of her wants to be, because maybe that would make Taako forgive her for not hating Lucretia.
...but she's so tired of all this hurting. She has not the patience or the knowledge to handle it all yet, and the easy goofs and jokes that hid her and Taako's own hurts when it got too heavy just... didn't seem like they would make anything better.
Probably worse.]
I know. You can't undo this shit and it's gonna hurt. It's good that it does, because it proves you're not some strange monster, but a friend who fucked up.
[She comes closer, and takes that (older and strange) hand again, squeezing it.]
(It hurts very, very much. Lup taking her hand as it is, even wet with tears and tightly holding it makes her shoulders jerk in a muted sob. She doesn't deserve this kindness, not from her.)
I'm sorry, (she manages. There aren't enough words in the world to express how deeply sorrowful she feels in this moment, the aching, consuming regret and guilt. Her dearest friends, her closest family, having suffered by her hand for so long? This is the nightmare scenario.)
I know it can't possibly– but please, believe me Lup, I'm– (she can barely speak; she shakes her head slowly, and puts her free hand over her mouth, closing her eyes tightly.)
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She's so full of different emotions over all of this, and it would be so easy to be cruel. To be bitter and resentful and fiery. Part of her wants to be, because maybe that would make Taako forgive her for not hating Lucretia.
...but she's so tired of all this hurting. She has not the patience or the knowledge to handle it all yet, and the easy goofs and jokes that hid her and Taako's own hurts when it got too heavy just... didn't seem like they would make anything better.
Probably worse.]
I know. You can't undo this shit and it's gonna hurt. It's good that it does, because it proves you're not some strange monster, but a friend who fucked up.
[She comes closer, and takes that (older and strange) hand again, squeezing it.]
no subject
I'm sorry, (she manages. There aren't enough words in the world to express how deeply sorrowful she feels in this moment, the aching, consuming regret and guilt. Her dearest friends, her closest family, having suffered by her hand for so long? This is the nightmare scenario.)
I know it can't possibly– but please, believe me Lup, I'm– (she can barely speak; she shakes her head slowly, and puts her free hand over her mouth, closing her eyes tightly.)