[ she sits, and the way he kneels before her, reaching to touch her face gently, if both a comfort and a source of embarrassment. alisaie's cheeks flush a warm pink, and she lowers her eyes, shaking her head. ]
It is not him, it is me.
[ she says, lifting her hand to the one at his face to hold it for a moment before coaxing it down to her lap, and slipping her fingers into his. ]
He is often on my mind.
[ and things like this - like this door, and the rift, they probe people, they search your mind and heart for weaknesses, for the soft parts of a person, things that can easily be manipulated. if her grandfather is what these things take from her, then that says quite a bit about just how far she still has to go in accepting his passing.
at last she shakes her head, and offers him a weary smile. ]
no subject
It is not him, it is me.
[ she says, lifting her hand to the one at his face to hold it for a moment before coaxing it down to her lap, and slipping her fingers into his. ]
He is often on my mind.
[ and things like this - like this door, and the rift, they probe people, they search your mind and heart for weaknesses, for the soft parts of a person, things that can easily be manipulated. if her grandfather is what these things take from her, then that says quite a bit about just how far she still has to go in accepting his passing.
at last she shakes her head, and offers him a weary smile. ]
But you needn't worry about it. I am fine.