[ Putting words to how she feels is strange, right now. She does feel guilty, in an awkward, sad sort of way, knowing that this may well have been her fault in part. She had tried to make Gilgamesh feel welcome initially but she had snapped, her anger hitting a point where it linked hands with her frustration and her own pain and she had ripped into him because of it, used him as an emotional punching bag.
There was no denying that he'd earned it, of course, and that he had stepped into the line of fire when he insulted her and accused her with his own rudeness, but that doesn't mean she doesn't feel bad about her own retort. She had stood up for herself in the face of someone that she knew was far more than the mask he put on, something worse, but that was fine. She had seen far worse than Gilgamesh in her time, she told herself, and she quashed her own guilt with her own determination.
Her head turns to look at them, his crowns, and she softens for a moment. ]
They're beautiful.
[ It's instinct, her own nature, that has her reaching over to touch his hand when he continues, something soft inside of her still wanting to see him happy. It was foolish, she knew, but it was her heart that made her strong, not her anger. ]
You do have friends, Gilgamesh. [ A pause, unsure, then - ] You have me.
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[ Putting words to how she feels is strange, right now. She does feel guilty, in an awkward, sad sort of way, knowing that this may well have been her fault in part. She had tried to make Gilgamesh feel welcome initially but she had snapped, her anger hitting a point where it linked hands with her frustration and her own pain and she had ripped into him because of it, used him as an emotional punching bag.
There was no denying that he'd earned it, of course, and that he had stepped into the line of fire when he insulted her and accused her with his own rudeness, but that doesn't mean she doesn't feel bad about her own retort. She had stood up for herself in the face of someone that she knew was far more than the mask he put on, something worse, but that was fine. She had seen far worse than Gilgamesh in her time, she told herself, and she quashed her own guilt with her own determination.
Her head turns to look at them, his crowns, and she softens for a moment. ]
They're beautiful.
[ It's instinct, her own nature, that has her reaching over to touch his hand when he continues, something soft inside of her still wanting to see him happy. It was foolish, she knew, but it was her heart that made her strong, not her anger. ]
You do have friends, Gilgamesh. [ A pause, unsure, then - ] You have me.