[These words are what break her will, her resolve. Konoha's grief mirrors and echoes so much of what she herself feels. The warriors, the civilians, the king and queen and princess-- what happened to them is sad, but in a battle things like that happen.
The children, though? The ones she'd taught Ranka's song, the ones who'd huddled around her and Konoha for security and comfort.
It's cruel. It's too cruel, and Sheryl's knuckles are white as she squeezes Konoha, her own tears now flowing openly down her cheeks, grieving and desperate because this is cruel, and horrifically unfair, and whatever she tells herself or tells the jinba, Sheryl is furious with herself for not being able to have prevented it.]
It's not fair... it's not fair, is it? For that to happen to them-- it's not fair!
[Being strong will have to wait, apparently. Because she's joining Konoha in weeping openly. Again.]
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The children, though? The ones she'd taught Ranka's song, the ones who'd huddled around her and Konoha for security and comfort.
It's cruel. It's too cruel, and Sheryl's knuckles are white as she squeezes Konoha, her own tears now flowing openly down her cheeks, grieving and desperate because this is cruel, and horrifically unfair, and whatever she tells herself or tells the jinba, Sheryl is furious with herself for not being able to have prevented it.]
It's not fair... it's not fair, is it? For that to happen to them-- it's not fair!
[Being strong will have to wait, apparently. Because she's joining Konoha in weeping openly. Again.]