She's really fucking relieved she was able to shape the memory like this, like she still has a place here after all, can still reach him and make things better. That counts for a lot. And it's good to see her younger self at his side, where she belongs, where she's always been. Clambering over him trying to steal whatever cooking implement or ingredient they never had enough of, badgering him into new ideas and clever substitutions with her teasing because she knew, deep down, he was always gonna be the better cook. Not that she ever admitted that to anyone, even to herself, and the heated argument is testament to that.
As reassuring as it is to have taken back her place in his memories, it's even better to watch him relax, to see the fondness and remembering in his smile. Now he's at home in the recollection of their childhood, their thriving and growing in tandem, the heights they would end up pushing each other to made all the more amazing for these meager beginnings. Did he, in, in his other memories, did he do all of that on his own? Or did he never think to reach for higher ambitions than caravan cook, did he never realize how brilliant he could be? There's fury churning in her stomach at the thought, at the self-deprecation still fucking tainting his words, outrage clenching her fists and she has to force it down because there's no outlet for it here. She reaches up to entwine her fingers in his hair instead, fiddles with a strand of it at his temple like it was out of place and she's fixing it.
"Taako, it's okay, I swear." Like she didn't literally just make him feel like shit for the messed up memory herself, being hurt, letting him see it. She's got to do better than that. "There's nothing wrong with you, you're not-- not less because of it. Not less my brother, not less yourself. Okay?" Turns out there's kind of a lot of hair needs fixing and she keeps doing that, no matter how hard it is to see through the tears in her eyes. "I'm-- I'm not the same that I was either. But we still fit together. You can see that, right?"
no subject
As reassuring as it is to have taken back her place in his memories, it's even better to watch him relax, to see the fondness and remembering in his smile. Now he's at home in the recollection of their childhood, their thriving and growing in tandem, the heights they would end up pushing each other to made all the more amazing for these meager beginnings. Did he, in, in his other memories, did he do all of that on his own? Or did he never think to reach for higher ambitions than caravan cook, did he never realize how brilliant he could be? There's fury churning in her stomach at the thought, at the self-deprecation still fucking tainting his words, outrage clenching her fists and she has to force it down because there's no outlet for it here. She reaches up to entwine her fingers in his hair instead, fiddles with a strand of it at his temple like it was out of place and she's fixing it.
"Taako, it's okay, I swear." Like she didn't literally just make him feel like shit for the messed up memory herself, being hurt, letting him see it. She's got to do better than that. "There's nothing wrong with you, you're not-- not less because of it. Not less my brother, not less yourself. Okay?" Turns out there's kind of a lot of hair needs fixing and she keeps doing that, no matter how hard it is to see through the tears in her eyes. "I'm-- I'm not the same that I was either. But we still fit together. You can see that, right?"