Allison can't quite help that there's a small bit of pity for Luther, as much as she doesn't want it to be there, for the words he says just as quietly. It might not be easy. Some of it might even feel like being punched in the face, unexpectedly, at times. But she was out here. Learning more. Seeing more.
Maybe it showed her how much she'd never known, how much their father had kept from them, but at least she knew it now. Had the chance to know. To change it. To control what she knew, and to never let anyone have that kind of control over her anymore.
She blinked back from the thought as Luther cleared his throat eyes, raising from where her fingers were still wrapped around his elbow loosely. There was the reflexive tear between tightening and relaxing her grip happening, even as she looked back at his face. Her cheeks suddenly feel warm, feeling uncertainly like she'd overstepped.
Except that he didn't pull away, which made it a little harder to breathe, to look away, as he spoke. Studying his face above hers. The careful, solemn honesty that looked like it could have stepped out of any of a million other memories. That looked like the day before she left, except not, too. There was something there, wasn't there.
For all that, it was the same, and his face was still the face that staring too long like this made her pulse do everything it shouldn't, there was something else there, now, wasn't there? A shadow at the edge of the blue in his. In his tone. Something that wasn't quite apologetic or regretful, but was ... something.
"Maybe," Allison said, finally convincing her body to breathe in again. "I'm trying, at least."
Then, her head tilted, overly considering him and the people near him, before she said, "You know what? I know what you should really see in here." And that if anyone didn't need to see the same things they'd seen a million times, it was Luther. Especially if she could give him something, he might never have. Her hand slid, down his arm, more toward his wrist, his hand, impulsively, "Come with me."
Without waiting for an agreement, she bustled them out of the line, dragging him with her, and headed them in a different direction between the partitions of the big area, between the sectioned off areas of walls, toward the only thing that had stopped her heart when she first came in here, too. It'll only take past the second portion after all, given once they pass it, the reason for their destination fills up the entirety of the wall they're facing, long before they'll be right in front of it.
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Maybe it showed her how much she'd never known, how much their father had kept from them, but at least she knew it now. Had the chance to know. To change it. To control what she knew, and to never let anyone have that kind of control over her anymore.
She blinked back from the thought as Luther cleared his throat eyes, raising from where her fingers were still wrapped around his elbow loosely. There was the reflexive tear between tightening and relaxing her grip happening, even as she looked back at his face. Her cheeks suddenly feel warm, feeling uncertainly like she'd overstepped.
Except that he didn't pull away, which made it a little harder to breathe, to look away, as he spoke. Studying his face above hers. The careful, solemn honesty that looked like it could have stepped out of any of a million other memories. That looked like the day before she left, except not, too. There was something there, wasn't there.
For all that, it was the same, and his face was still the face that staring too long like this made her pulse do everything it shouldn't, there was something else there, now, wasn't there? A shadow at the edge of the blue in his. In his tone. Something that wasn't quite apologetic or regretful, but was ... something.
"Maybe," Allison said, finally convincing her body to breathe in again. "I'm trying, at least."
Then, her head tilted, overly considering him and the people near him, before she said, "You know what? I know what you should really see in here." And that if anyone didn't need to see the same things they'd seen a million times, it was Luther. Especially if she could give him something, he might never have. Her hand slid, down his arm, more toward his wrist, his hand, impulsively, "Come with me."
Without waiting for an agreement, she bustled them out of the line, dragging him with her, and headed them in a different direction between the partitions of the big area, between the sectioned off areas of walls, toward the only thing that had stopped her heart when she first came in here, too. It'll only take past the second portion after all, given once they pass it, the reason for their destination fills up the entirety of the wall they're facing, long before they'll be right in front of it.