If you keep me apart from the things that you do, then the only thing separating us is you choosing to keep us separate. If you were waiting centuries to do anything and living your life present with me now, that would be one thing, but you aren't or there wouldn't be any fucking secrets to keep in the first place.

( the words are sharp, but the voice is tired; she has turned this over and over and over in her hands for weeks now and it's no less frustrating, because it's no easier to solve. he's right, that there are things she shouldn't know; she's right, that if it's everything then they've given up before they begin.

'how'. she wants to have a solution ready, but she'd have reached out sooner if she did. )

Like, for instance, I have no idea what you're talking about. Obviously all elves aren't dead. I walked past seven on the way here.

( the glibness very thinly veils that frustration, and not in any way intended to actually disguise it. )

I want...

I want to actually have a life together. Is it too much to ask of you that we make plans for our future together? You need to tell me if I can't expect you to be a husband to me.

( this is calmer than before. they're discussing it, now; he is listening, and so is she. )