on mun describing her; canon: sense and sensibility (modern)

[altersnot]

I know it was all in good fun, but I don't actually think it was stalking. I just wanted to see, wanted to live one last moment. Maybe if he saw me again it would have been different. I was given no real reason.

You think it's all a big laugh, but it wasn't and it isn't and it will never be. If everyone has one great love in their life then I've had mine. I'm not resolved to it. I still have-- my sisters.

That's ghastly, actually.

You can skew this whatever you want. I felt what I did, and I won't regret it. I'll stick to playing the piano if I must, you do so love Claire de Lune. And walks. I have the lovely company of hills and woods. And no, it's not going to rain. It's fine.

I'm fine.

Comments

[keenest]

Of course you are, m'dear. Just fine.

[altersnot]

At least someone believes me. [You know, when she's not falling into fits of sobs.]

[keenest]

I'm a believer in doing what you must for the sake of true love, anyway. [ And deeply in denial of her status as the infamous Austen busybody. ]

[altersnot]

You are probably the only person I've talked to that doesn't think me completely mad.

[keenest]

It's a good thing you confided in me and not Mary Bennet. She has very little sympathy for this sort of thing.

[altersnot]

I haven't met her. But my mun compares her to a dried prune. Or a nun.

[sensibles]

I've heard much worse, to be honest.

[altersnot]

Not everyone can feel as passionately as others.

[keenest]

[ Emma shoos Mary off to go read a book or something and rolls her eyes. ] Clearly romance is not in Mary's top priorities.

And such a shame. Though I see no need for marriage either, to be honest.

[altersnot]

Really? Not even if you truly love someone?