She lets me in. The second leap of faith. I can taste the reasons on her tongue.
Her facade crumbled under the pressure. The herculean weight of her ambitions, the fate of the Human Realm, the uncertainty.
It's desperate. But it's real. And I freeze at that fact.
She's always been quite desperate with me, throughout our interactions. Desire has outpaced her capabilities.
So she latches on to me, hoping I keep her afloat. Banking on the possibility that I'm the solution.
I'm the answer to all her problems. That I won't betray her trust. So she wishes.
It's cruel: fate couldn't have bestowed a worse person upon her. My spirit shamefully laughs at that.
Meanwhile, fate continues to throw caltrops in my path. But contrary to Leara, my belief in the mission and my desire to see it through is beyond compensated for with my inflated sense of importance and efficacy. For now.
