Musashi speaks, and a dawning horror crests so sharply in Lucy that she can taste it in the back of her throat. In all the chaos, she'd almost forgotten the memory the sword had shared between them, a piece of herself that she's been desperately trying to keep from everyone else here, but especially from Musashi.
She just can't shake the feeling that if she tells, then Musashi will meet the same fate. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, an ouroborous of fucked up shit that happens to everybody she loves. But if she can keep it a secret, if she never speaks about it and the universe never hears her, then she can keep Musashi safe -- and Lucy knows it's probably bullshit, but it's what her gut keeps telling her.
And yet, as she stares into those bright blue eyes, and Musashi says impossibly kind, generous, loving things, Lucy finds herself wanting to tell her.
Would it be a relief? Would it be like setting down a burden and allowing someone else to help carry it? Or would the telling of it be like a poison, infecting the thing tentatively blooming between them?
"I--" Lucy starts, lost, so many wants and instincts battling within her that she doesn't even know what she wants to say. She squeezes Musashi's hands so hard her knuckles go white, and takes comfort in the fact that Musashi's strong enough to bear it. Her heart is hammering so loudly in her chest that she can barely hear anything else, fear tingling through every one of her nerves. She feels like she's at a precipice: she could tell Musashi everything, here and now. For a wild moment, she almost feels courageous enough to do it, fueled by fuck it might as well in the midst of a tangle of conflicting emotions.
In the next second, all of that bravado drains as quickly as it came, and Lucy makes the coward's choice.
"Later." Lucy ducks her head, both utterly certain she's making the right choice, and embarrassed by it. "I-- can't. Not yet. I'm not strong enough." She draws in a deep breath. "But... I will. I want to. Eventually."
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She just can't shake the feeling that if she tells, then Musashi will meet the same fate. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, an ouroborous of fucked up shit that happens to everybody she loves. But if she can keep it a secret, if she never speaks about it and the universe never hears her, then she can keep Musashi safe -- and Lucy knows it's probably bullshit, but it's what her gut keeps telling her.
And yet, as she stares into those bright blue eyes, and Musashi says impossibly kind, generous, loving things, Lucy finds herself wanting to tell her.
Would it be a relief? Would it be like setting down a burden and allowing someone else to help carry it? Or would the telling of it be like a poison, infecting the thing tentatively blooming between them?
"I--" Lucy starts, lost, so many wants and instincts battling within her that she doesn't even know what she wants to say. She squeezes Musashi's hands so hard her knuckles go white, and takes comfort in the fact that Musashi's strong enough to bear it. Her heart is hammering so loudly in her chest that she can barely hear anything else, fear tingling through every one of her nerves. She feels like she's at a precipice: she could tell Musashi everything, here and now. For a wild moment, she almost feels courageous enough to do it, fueled by fuck it might as well in the midst of a tangle of conflicting emotions.
In the next second, all of that bravado drains as quickly as it came, and Lucy makes the coward's choice.
"Later." Lucy ducks her head, both utterly certain she's making the right choice, and embarrassed by it. "I-- can't. Not yet. I'm not strong enough." She draws in a deep breath. "But... I will. I want to. Eventually."