It has not to do with want, Jesse... It is His judgment, and none others. But to seek to do good, you must also seek to better yourself. This is your redemption, and your greatest challenge. The more you offer your love, the more you will in turn receive.
[ He really is such a puppy. Not very masculine, even Thomas Wyatt was of sturdier stuff, but enough to make her feel shock at seeing the tears in his eyes. For a man to cry...in front of a woman, well, that is not so common, and she isn't sure at first how to react, but it's easy enough to think what she might do for her brother or sister... Has she really no other friends to feel as close to?
Anne releases his hand, and moves to rest hers against the back of his shoulder in an attempt to offer a soothing hand, murmuring a bit softer in latin, as if saying a prayer. ]
Frater non redimit, redimet homo: non dabit Deo placationem suam. Et pretium redemptionis animæ suæ: et laborabit in æternum, et vivet adhuc in finem.
[Jesse doesn't know what she's saying, but he does assume it's a prayer, so he keeps his arguments to himself and doesn't interrupt. Anyway, she won't understand unless he tells her everything, and he can't. He's sure that if he did, she would agree there's no hope for him and that Hell is where he belongs.
Nevertheless, he doesn't reject the affection. He leans into her, shutting his eyes for a moment to try and steel himself. It is embarrassing that he's crying in front of her, even if he's doing it silently.]
[ It isn't actually a prayer, but just another verse for guidance. How is she to know that he doesn't understand latin? Still, she leaves it at that for the moment, pulling him closer when he leans until Anne can hold his head to her breast. Her fingernails run gently along the back of his head, the hair too short to really muss, then again as she does her best to stay calm for his benefit; bereft of words for his pride's sake.
She'll eventually, tenderly, move her hand back to his shoulder to guide him downward so that he can rest his head in her lap, where she can pet him (isn't that what it is?). She's now able to continue along the back of his neck with her fingertips just underneath the collar of his shirt, then across his shoulder-blade and along his arm, to his wrist. Then again, and again, her soft breaths soon defaulting into the soft hum of an old French melody she recalls. ]
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I don't wanna be forgiven. I just wanna make things better.
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[ He really is such a puppy. Not very masculine, even Thomas Wyatt was of sturdier stuff, but enough to make her feel shock at seeing the tears in his eyes. For a man to cry...in front of a woman, well, that is not so common, and she isn't sure at first how to react, but it's easy enough to think what she might do for her brother or sister... Has she really no other friends to feel as close to?
Anne releases his hand, and moves to rest hers against the back of his shoulder in an attempt to offer a soothing hand, murmuring a bit softer in latin, as if saying a prayer. ]
Frater non redimit, redimet homo: non dabit Deo placationem suam. Et pretium redemptionis animæ suæ: et laborabit in æternum, et vivet adhuc in finem.
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Nevertheless, he doesn't reject the affection. He leans into her, shutting his eyes for a moment to try and steel himself. It is embarrassing that he's crying in front of her, even if he's doing it silently.]
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She'll eventually, tenderly, move her hand back to his shoulder to guide him downward so that he can rest his head in her lap, where she can pet him (isn't that what it is?). She's now able to continue along the back of his neck with her fingertips just underneath the collar of his shirt, then across his shoulder-blade and along his arm, to his wrist. Then again, and again, her soft breaths soon defaulting into the soft hum of an old French melody she recalls. ]