Her hands curl in her lap simply to keep them from reaching for him. Had he ever seemed more pitiful? She reads his words but they simply make her shake her head, slow and sad at first, then insistent.

"Why would I hate you? I can hate so many people, the Condesce, the Grand Highblood, that executor, why would I hate you? For not saving us? Is that what's in your head right now? It wasn't...I couldn't save us. Him. Her. You," whispered the Disciple, eyes on empty hands in her lap. Empty because she couldn't hold onto anyone.

"If you don't hate me for not rescuing you, why would I hate you for not being able to do the same. For anything. I've never hated you. Nefur. Annoyed perhaps, when you take the world on your shoulders and act like you know my thoughts. What I think and feel when we both know it's not true. Well mostly. You know my thoughts like he did, but you tended to overlay your own insecurities on them." Her voice steadies as memories fill in old details, renew her grasp on him.

"I'd never hate you. You know me. You know I wouldn't. You just have to get past the part of your mind that blames you for everything."