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May. 14th, 2007 01:33 amMarian was calmer upon reaching the tree line of the forest.
It was night, and dangerous; but that was a comforting thing about it.
Reminding of home, it nursed the sore Will reopened in telling her she didn't belong defending her people the way she had these past four years as the Nightwatchman. He was too confusing. He liberated her as Robin's equal in all manners, but then subjugated her to needing to be away from any fight. He was Robin's man through and through but hadn't hesitated to call him a fool.
She’d rarely said it—thought it a few dozen times lately—but hearing it, it sounded wrong and blasphemous. Even if he hadn’t helped her out of her engagement; not that she’d asked him to.
He was Robin. He was supposed to be the people’s savior.
He'd claimed the title with an arrogant swagger and grin.
He kept trying to claim he loved her. No. He kept just trying to claim her. To kiss her, to touch her, to protect her, to keep her as his own; without really saying anything at all. He just gave her those insufferably long looks which had caused her blood to rush before and now caused her to feel prickled all over with guilt, then anger.
And Guy just saw her like she was some ornament or thing to purify himself in, while trying to endlessly please her with things she just didn’t care about. Goading her with guilt and triumph, one part wanting to master and one part toy wielding child.
Settling down next to a tree, she looked up at the stars through the leaves for a long time. Eventually her gaze traveled across the plain to where Milliways was.
Will had meant well. She’d meant well in trying to help him first, too. He was just so set in his beliefs about her, and her and Robin. She had to conform to those beliefs, from a world which wasn’t even hers, or she wasn’t being herself suddenly, was endangering everything.
He was young, in so many way, even with the hell Nottingham had put him through. How often he beat himself down; the situation with the girl; his assumptions; the constant fighting and drinking.
Just remembering—with a pang—that look he’d had while beating up the bag, was reinforcement that people did still need her doing what she did. Because their people shouldn’t have that look, grow up the way he had, or have any of the problem he had, she had, they all had.
He (they) really would come to understand it was who she was, or he (they) wouldn’t.
Either way, she decided resting her head on the tree with a yawn, she would go on doing her job.
With all it entailed.
It was night, and dangerous; but that was a comforting thing about it.
Reminding of home, it nursed the sore Will reopened in telling her she didn't belong defending her people the way she had these past four years as the Nightwatchman. He was too confusing. He liberated her as Robin's equal in all manners, but then subjugated her to needing to be away from any fight. He was Robin's man through and through but hadn't hesitated to call him a fool.
She’d rarely said it—thought it a few dozen times lately—but hearing it, it sounded wrong and blasphemous. Even if he hadn’t helped her out of her engagement; not that she’d asked him to.
He was Robin. He was supposed to be the people’s savior.
He'd claimed the title with an arrogant swagger and grin.
He kept trying to claim he loved her. No. He kept just trying to claim her. To kiss her, to touch her, to protect her, to keep her as his own; without really saying anything at all. He just gave her those insufferably long looks which had caused her blood to rush before and now caused her to feel prickled all over with guilt, then anger.
And Guy just saw her like she was some ornament or thing to purify himself in, while trying to endlessly please her with things she just didn’t care about. Goading her with guilt and triumph, one part wanting to master and one part toy wielding child.
Settling down next to a tree, she looked up at the stars through the leaves for a long time. Eventually her gaze traveled across the plain to where Milliways was.
Will had meant well. She’d meant well in trying to help him first, too. He was just so set in his beliefs about her, and her and Robin. She had to conform to those beliefs, from a world which wasn’t even hers, or she wasn’t being herself suddenly, was endangering everything.
He was young, in so many way, even with the hell Nottingham had put him through. How often he beat himself down; the situation with the girl; his assumptions; the constant fighting and drinking.
Just remembering—with a pang—that look he’d had while beating up the bag, was reinforcement that people did still need her doing what she did. Because their people shouldn’t have that look, grow up the way he had, or have any of the problem he had, she had, they all had.
He (they) really would come to understand it was who she was, or he (they) wouldn’t.
Either way, she decided resting her head on the tree with a yawn, she would go on doing her job.
With all it entailed.