practicality

An expression of puzzled confusion crossed her face. "But I have a very good life - a lovely apartment, wonderful friends, a job to die for... Why would I need helping? Others are in much worse condition than I am."

Sheska stared at him, the baffled look frozen on her features. What... What did he mean? She knew what the words meant, obviously - for what other purpose had she read dictionaries? - but the words weren't sinking in probaperly. They didn't quite make sense as a whole. "I... I'm sorry? I'm afraid..." she trailed off as part of it fit itself together in her mind.

...That's what she thought he'd meant. She could feel herself turning red, but managed not to start apologizing frantically on the spot. She realized that she was going to mangle the ticket if she held onto it, so she gently extracted her hand from his and put the ticket safely in her pocket so she could get out her worry-ribbon, that bookmark he'd borrowed for a hair tie months ago. "I wouldn't say I entirely..." she started feebly, but she wasn't sure where she was going with that and had to let it drop.

She didn't kneel, but she did find herself sitting on the edge of the bed again, completely at a loss. How was she supposed to react to this? Was she supposed to be upset? Heaven knew her mind was in enough confusion over this... Or just chagrined? Thoughtful? Was she supposed to be angry with him? She wasn't sure, and it was just spirialling into an even worse mess.

She shook her head, though it did nothing to clear it, and hugged him back, feeling guilty for making him move. "N-no, it's all right. You didn't... Not really. I just..." She laughed shakily, clutching the pendent of the bookmark tightly enough that it hurt. "I'm not really sure how to react."

Swallowing hard, she nodded. "It does. It's... I think it's something I need to figure out before I can apply it, though. I guess... I just don't see myself as a very admirable person so, um... I, I guess that would be the first step? I'm just not sure exactly how to go about it."

She frowned, running the strip of faded green ribbon from hand to hand. "But... Those are learned skills. They aren't anything unique, or interesting! They're just... there. They certainly aren't enough to better the world. It just means I can be a decent librarian, and who reads books anymore, besides people like me? In more technological societies, everything is computer organized and put online. They've no need for librarians any more."

Sheska beat back the immediate desire to start asking the hundreds of questions that started germinating in her brain and tried to keep focused on the discussion at hand. She shook her head. "Our skill sets are very different, though. You lead. You command respect and obedience, and protect people. I? I read. And organize books. And... bake. And I couldn't be of use to anyone if it wasn't a public project. Otherwise I'd have to be killed, or confined, or..." She cast around for another alternative. "I suppose here they could even wipe my memory. I'm not a major character. I'm not even a minor character. I'm one of the passersby who works in the background and doesn't really do anything worth noting."

She gave him a perplexed look. He didn't really get it. But then she had never been particularly good at explaining herself. Half the time people thought she meant something entirely different than what she'd actually said. Of course life was a story. Or rather, it was a lot of little stories all combined into one large story that never ended. Characters and their stories threaded in and out to form one long pattern of events. What else were history and legends and myths? "I'm not a source... the writers and texts themselves are sources. I'm just an ordinary person who happens to read and remember more than is good for her." And sometimes those around her. But she didn't want to argue. Not with him. Not with anyone, really, but particularly not with him. "I'll think on it and do my best not to work myself into a greater knot of worry than I already am."

She felt an embarrassed flush rising. That last phrase always meant the speaker was disappointed in her. She sighed. "I'm sorry... I just have a hard time understanding why this is so important. I'll try. I promise I will." This reminded her of the lecture she'd gotten when her mother had discovered that she wasn't defending herself against the school bullies.

That tone was familiar too. Relenting, but opinion unchanged. She refused to let herself read too deeply into that hope for happiness. That was a road unpaved and often hit with meteorites. "You worry too much, Tseng-san," she said with half a smile, thoroughly ignoring the irony inherent in that statement. "I am happy." Which was mostly true, usually. Every now and then... but didn't everyone have down times?

She nodded. "I promised that I would, and I will. I think... I think that it will be easier once I've learned some magic. That's something no one else in my world has done before, that I know of! It will be unique, and I'll be able to do things on a larger scale than a pair of libraries." She reached forward and laid her fingers over his. "And you? You'll rest, and concentrate on healing?"

"Once I'm sure that it won't somehow accidentally backfire, I certainly can arrange a demonstration, if you like." The memory of the last magical demonstration she saw made her smile. "And promise to let me know if I can help in some way? Or if you'd like some non-Turkish company?"