As she watched the slender creature, it became increasingly clear to Erthë that this conversation was not progressing very smoothly. Her own mercurial temper (impatient, self absorbed, overly suspicious) was causing the doe distress, and though she thought herself able to understand it appeared they were speaking past one another.

Wishing to remedy this, as the frail being in the light appeared to wish no harm - on the contrary, appeared to wish to heal, the winged filly listened carefully as it expanded on the question, clarified itself; it made her wonder how well she had really listened the first time, brought her to question her own ability to comprehend others. In retrospect the simple question appeared to be nothing more than that, and she felt foolish for making things overly complicated.

It was, the girl admitted, another flaw of hers.

As those large blue eyes came to rest upon her however, she tensed. Indeed she could appreciate that the doe did not wish to hurt with her words, but the implication that she was less than she ought to be still stung. So many long seasons had been spent trying to convince herself that she was still fine that somewhere, the child had begun to believe it; she had struggled with pain and limitations, broken rules and hurt people she loved all for the sake of attempting to be all that she wanted to be despite her scars.

Now she bent her head to the ground as the gentle gaze became a mirror in which she could see the lie for what it had been. She was not fine, not alright; she was in pain and nearly constantly drugged in order to endure the day, and she wore her disability like a crutch so she wouldn't have to face the guilt and grief of having caused her mother's death. It had been her fault, thus it was no more than right that she should suffer...

"I do think..." she said quietly, "that a thing is more beautiful when it is whole. Scars can enhance that beauty, in the way a broken cup mended with gold can be more beautiful than one that is without flaw.

You think that I am broken... and you are probably right. I am in pain, and I could do more - go further - be better - if I healed..."

She looked up, eyes lined with uncertainly.

"But I don't know if I should be fixed. I feel like I don't deserve it, not after what I have done... Some things - dangerous things - are sometimes better left in pieces no matter how pretty they are."

But though she somewhere believed that, the hope that flared up inside her made it so very hard to say. Oh, she wanted it, desired the relief and the healing the doe had offered - and that desire caused her guilt grow even bigger. Why should she be allowed to be whole and happy, when Shadow was dead?

_________________________________________

Waiting for the rain I'm bracing for the thunder
A twig that wouldn't sway in the wind