[Oh, she knows that look on his face. It threatens to make her break, but she simply rests her hand on his wrist, keeping his hand against her face.]
Never. I could never forget. That's... what you left me. So many memories of what it is to be loved. [And loved unconditionally. She wasn't his blood, but he never cared. She was his daughter. She was his sister. How fortunate she was to be that for him, and to have known someone so painfully good.
She is less good, she thinks, because of the hatred in her heart towards Renoir. It's a stain. The Paintress is now simply an obstacle between the old man's throat and her blade. She'll take his life as he took Gustave's.]
I'll love you forever. In this life and the ones that follow.
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Date: 2025-05-14 02:27 am (UTC)Never. I could never forget. That's... what you left me. So many memories of what it is to be loved. [And loved unconditionally. She wasn't his blood, but he never cared. She was his daughter. She was his sister. How fortunate she was to be that for him, and to have known someone so painfully good.
She is less good, she thinks, because of the hatred in her heart towards Renoir. It's a stain. The Paintress is now simply an obstacle between the old man's throat and her blade. She'll take his life as he took Gustave's.]
I'll love you forever. In this life and the ones that follow.