[attr="class","illie i"]while uncertainty is something she's grown accustomed to, it still never fails to make her skin crawl. which choice is right? which way of thinking is wrong? and so, when he offers her no answers, she tenses. he can't usher in a period of growth for her, not in the way she needs. she has to supply that for herself as difficult as it might be.

"what do you think it means to be useful?" mostly because she's curious but also because she doesn't know which direction to head in. which way is up and which is down? which will grant her the answers she seeks? both or neither at all. another sigh follows and she's attempting to distract herself from answering his own question by gently tugging at the bandages wrapped snugly around a thigh. it offers her no solace, no comfort, and eventually her fingers still. "to others, to the region, i might be useful but to myself... i don't see how i could be of any use." it's not entirely accurate, necessarily. she's useful in some ways. the title of a professor allows her to be of assistance but what is she without that?

nothing.

[attr="class","illie i"]he offers nothing more than a single sentence, speaking nothing but truth and simplicity. and yet, it leaves her with nothing. she's still at a loss. perhaps that's why she finds herself probing, searching for anything else that can be considered a lifeline. "and what is value?" she murmurs and the look she gives him is torn. half uncertain, half expectant. does she want him to give her meaning?

perhaps, in a way, she does.

"what value do i hold?" it's a simple question and yet loaded all the same. will she like the answer? or will it leave her with more questions? part of her almost wants to retract the statement, chalk it up to her own messy emotions. and yet, she doesn't. instead, it hangs in the air between them and she's placing her faith in whatever answer he gives like it's the only thing that will determine her worth.

[attr="class","illie i"]how does one find their own sense of value? does it lie within their past or their personality? their future or their dreams? she has to pick through the pieces of her that are her parents, those around her, and herself. and that, in itself, isn't an easy thing to do. she had been dancing on the strings of her family's name for so long that without that suffocating control, she's been lost. with the freedom to find out for herself what sort of value she holds, the possibilities seem to slip out of her grasp.

"you're right," she replies and really, he is. value has to be found by her and her alone. he isn't going to give it to her nor will anyone else for that matter. it's something that she holds but that's the difficulty of it all. where does she even start in finding it?

and then, he's smiling and probably feeding her exactly what she wants to hear. it brings a rush of heat to her cheeks, skin flushing pink around a soft smile. compliments are one thing but to hear fernando silph actually list off her good points is a different thing entirely. it almost feels like more than a compliment and perhaps that's dangerous in more ways than one but she's naive and an unfortunate sucker for those who believe in her, in what she can be.

"i'm flattered you think i'd be a good role model," it comes out with the hint of a giggle and she's putting herself exactly where he wants her without even knowing it. "if i'm being honest, i never thought that others would notice those qualities... let alone think they're valuable. thank you, sir, for the kind words."

[attr="class","illie i"]had it been foolish of her to believe he was simply being kind? perhaps. yet, she wants to see the good, wants to see the world with a rose-tinted view. and maybe knowing that he had really just been truthful instead of kind gives her some luxury of holding herself to some worth. they weren't just fabricated words, dressed up for her to feel better. no, they were genuine, concrete, real. that, perhaps, is even better than the original belief that it was kindness that prompted him to list the qualities of hers that he deems worthy.

she flushes a little deeper regardless of the way he brushes aside her gratitude because the weight of his words still resonates. the truth can be a powerful thing when wielded wisely and he is a master of the craft.

"i -- i still appreciate it all the same," she murmurs and it's her own form of honesty. it might just be nothing more than simple fact for him but for her, it's a glimpse into the way others view her. somehow, she hadn't expected it to come from him but that almost makes it even more meaningful in the end. "your honesty means a lot. i can see why you value it so much." which might be cliche but he's a man of power, of dignity, of strength. for him to see good in her? it could be earth shattering.

the moment his hand makes contact with her head, she's several shades of red at once. sure, it's nothing more than a head pat, but this is still unexpected. she would have assumed that he doesn't exactly do physical contact, especially in a manner such as this. and somehow, despite herself, her emotions slightly flutter at the gesture. they distract her from the fact that he just called her a kid, instead focusing on the sensation of his hand on her hair. "i try my hardest to be. good, that is."

if only she knew it'd never get her very far...

[attr="class","illie i"]it's funny, she has never entertained ideas of being anything other than what she already is. a scientist born and raised, the pursuit of knowledge practically burned into her skin. it's all she knows, all she ever hopes to know. and yet, he feeds her ideas of different occupations better suited for the heart she wears proudly on her sleeve. except, a heart of gold is nothing more than an angel's destruction and hers isn't aware of the threats that want to sink into it.

she smiles and opens her mouth to speak, to add her own input into the conversation. only, it closes a moment later with the rough click of teeth against teeth. he continues to speak, continues to make himself known and heard in the confines of this small hospital room. somehow, someway, his voice alone is enough to send shivers down her spine.

he paints a picture for her: a world of good, of pure intentions and the pure hearted. it's one she can't deny she dreams of but the reality of what he splashes onto the canvas mauls the picture until it's nothing more than bleak and hopeless. a world of monsters is what he spins, what he delicately places in her brain as if that's the only outcome for the future. he speaks as though there will be more of them, more monsters crawling out from wormholes or from under the bed to swallow up all the good in the world until there's nothing left but destruction.

more importantly, he paints with the picture one fact that she can't shake: she's not strong enough to handle what he speaks of.

she shifts uncomfortably in her spot as he continues and while she still flushes when he says he wants her good to be more important than his own outcomes, she's left at a crossroads. he wants her to stay safe, stay good, stay pure. keep her locked away, keep her guarded as all prized possessions are. and yet, she doesn't want to be kept in a lab all day. she wants to be pure and good, sure, but perhaps more than that, she wants to be useful, meaningful, worthy.

and in the end, it seems as though he is the only one who can offer that to her.

she's left without a moment to process the offer, to really sink her teeth into every bit of information until a clear decision sticks out. no, instead she's operating solely on heightened emotions and that need to prevent what happened to her golett, her colleagues from ever happening again. and perhaps that's what prompts her into opening her mouth, into giving him exactly what he's looking for.

"i want to be strong," she whispers. and then, she's raising her head a little higher as if that will make much of a difference. as if that will make her seem like the woman she wants to be. it doesn't and she's just a child in over her head but it just might be everything that he wants. "i want to survive outside. i want to protect the ones i love." it's spoken a little louder, a little firmer. her gaze follows him, stays trained on the muscles of his back. "but i -- i don't know how to do that on my own. i might not be the best option for your team or even close to what you want but if -- if you could train me... i could survive." she's placing her faith and trust in the notion that he wants to see her succeed, that he believes in her and what she can do. and maybe she's nothing more than a lamb being led to slaughter but he's spun a web too intricate for her to notice.