You had angered him?

[oh, ouch]




Do you forgive him this?

[nods again, and squeezes her hand one more time in warning before she feels an unfamiliar emotion welling up through her, palpably not her own but free for her experience nonetheless.

it's immediately obvious why Lan Wangji asked the questions he did, because what she feels is a lack of forgiveness: a sensation of helpless anger and anger at the helplessness, of tearing grief for a vision of what could have been and wasn't, of regret as deep as a well to the bottom of the world. but there is also a sense that it is carried, and the carrying is something other feelings have grown around; that the weight has become an acknowledged if sometimes difficult companion. truly accepted, not a stranger, until perhaps someday the wheel turns and things will change.

that acceptance comes from self knowledge, in this case. the feelings Lan Wangji shared are for himself, and how he found the courage to live with himself after the unforgivable. but perhaps, directed outwards at someone else who shares some traits with her, the way it centers him might help give Sprezzatura perspective on living with them and herself too.]

[hesitates, because the really key part of emotion sharing is not needing to talk about something he truly does not know how to talk about...

her reaction is a concerning surprise, too. he doesn't really feel his knowledge of his own failure as strange or notable, any more.]

Ms Vaux.

...

Not intended.

[gives her hand another comforting squeeze, though, not pulling back in his chagrin]

...

You have lost something.

[quietly:]

Everything?

[the shape of the devastation is not very familiar to him, even if some of the details are. Lan Wangji just isn't proud in that way, or of the same things. but he can see how this would attack a sense of self nonetheless, when he thinks about it.]

"Sprezzatura Vaux," a woman you believed could protect those things.

If she was unable, what to believe?

[...he takes a while to answer...

finally, still low, thoughtful:]

I would ask.

"Does it matter?"

...

Had an answer, myself. "Yes."

But, the next question.

"Why?"

Can this be done elsewhere?

What I had asked. "What is left that matters, now that you have failed?"

What you asked. "Where do I go now?"

Both answers. "Where must she go and who must she be, to best honor the dream that was?"

Failure demands no lesser loyalty to what was cherished.

[...he'll take out a handkerchief and hand it to her...]

Mm.

...

Do not mistake what is called for, for what is important. This is my regret.

Many respect the Ms Vaux who has failed. I have confidence. She will find the courage to walk with her, as well.