[ He is weak. She is hurting him. He buckles under the force of it, and Kira nearly flinches as well. It is the touch of a mother that does it. Puts her back on her heels, startles her. She almost lets up. Almost. The joy of pushing (if indeed it could be called that) is gone, replaced instead by a terrible remorse which gives way to what can only be described as responsibility.
Yes, responsibility for him. She had promised to protect him, after all, and she knew of no better way to do that than to give him the tools to protect himself. This was the way. The only way. ]
Yes, you can.
[ The words spilled out savagely, certainly. She knew it like she knew the rhythm of her own heartbeat. He had not bested her only to show crippling weakness at the first sign of further violence. So she did not let up, but insisted to him instead. ]
no subject
Yes, responsibility for him. She had promised to protect him, after all, and she knew of no better way to do that than to give him the tools to protect himself. This was the way. The only way. ]
Yes, you can.
[ The words spilled out savagely, certainly. She knew it like she knew the rhythm of her own heartbeat. He had not bested her only to show crippling weakness at the first sign of further violence. So she did not let up, but insisted to him instead. ]
You can. You have me. I'll help you.