"You've done things for them that they might not be able to even conceive of," Yennefer points out, her gaze unyielding as it flickers over his face. "Things that have been imperative to our survival here, whether they know it or not." Even though he might be quick to dismiss his ability to till fields, that's a much more beneficial form of aid than what others have been able to contribute, to say nothing of the ones who have failed to put in any effort at all.
"It's easy for people to say whatever they want while hardly being the first to come up with a worthy alternative solution to the problem." It's why she isn't necessarily willing to entertain criticism from those who seem to be especially short-sighted, in part due to the fact that they haven't lived nearly as long.
"Much of what you've done already is tangible." Her hand absently strokes the side of his face, fingers curved against the soft hairs of his beard. "Just because some of the gains haven't been immediate doesn't mean they're not valuable. True progress, the kind that has lasting effect for everyone, takes time. Though I'm not sure I need to tell you that." Not when he's much older than she is, by a significant margin.
"You're not the enemy. The enemy is all around us. And even if others can't see the effort you're giving, that doesn't mean everyone fails to notice." A soft pause, before she props herself up on one elbow to rear over him slightly, touch still stroking over his beard. "I see it."
The bristles remain, but her words and touch smooth them back, leaving something safer and more gentle behind. It may have been terribly selfish of him to come here, but this is what he needed. This is why he came. Sweeney can trust in her honesty, knowing it will be blunt where needed and tender when possible. He can put himself in her hands, knowing that, in the moment, there's only Them.
Sweeney turns his face into one of those hands and kisses her palm before she moves. Then he settles back to meet her face on as she rises above him, his eyes not straying from hers. She can feel it in his chest; the glow of violet that warms him and puts flickers of light in his darkness. Of all the things he doubts, her seeing him is not one of them.
He offers a small lopsided smile and lifts his fingers to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Then Sweeney strains up enough to kiss her. It's tender but not overly deep; something born out of gratitude and intimacy.
Her sentiment is not lost on him, and she's right; it takes a long time to make meaningful change. When he rests back down, his hand lingers, cupping her cheek. His voice is soft as it exposes his vulnerability on the matter.
"I'm just worried I don't have 'nough time."
Social unrest is an ever-present threat, and with their current confinement, tigers are pacing. And in the middle of it, Sweeney finds himself cast back to the drawing board.
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"It's easy for people to say whatever they want while hardly being the first to come up with a worthy alternative solution to the problem." It's why she isn't necessarily willing to entertain criticism from those who seem to be especially short-sighted, in part due to the fact that they haven't lived nearly as long.
"Much of what you've done already is tangible." Her hand absently strokes the side of his face, fingers curved against the soft hairs of his beard. "Just because some of the gains haven't been immediate doesn't mean they're not valuable. True progress, the kind that has lasting effect for everyone, takes time. Though I'm not sure I need to tell you that." Not when he's much older than she is, by a significant margin.
"You're not the enemy. The enemy is all around us. And even if others can't see the effort you're giving, that doesn't mean everyone fails to notice." A soft pause, before she props herself up on one elbow to rear over him slightly, touch still stroking over his beard. "I see it."
no subject
Sweeney turns his face into one of those hands and kisses her palm before she moves. Then he settles back to meet her face on as she rises above him, his eyes not straying from hers. She can feel it in his chest; the glow of violet that warms him and puts flickers of light in his darkness. Of all the things he doubts, her seeing him is not one of them.
He offers a small lopsided smile and lifts his fingers to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Then Sweeney strains up enough to kiss her. It's tender but not overly deep; something born out of gratitude and intimacy.
Her sentiment is not lost on him, and she's right; it takes a long time to make meaningful change. When he rests back down, his hand lingers, cupping her cheek. His voice is soft as it exposes his vulnerability on the matter.
"I'm just worried I don't have 'nough time."
Social unrest is an ever-present threat, and with their current confinement, tigers are pacing. And in the middle of it, Sweeney finds himself cast back to the drawing board.