[In some way she feels she should have expected this confession, that the path his heart would demand has been set, and obvious. Cami isn't naïve; whatever they feel for each other, for thousands of years Klaus has put his family first, and even that love is trumped by his utter adoration for his daughter. She has watched him tear apart those closest to him, felt the sharp pain of his fangs in her neck, all in the name of protecting Hope. Klaus cares for Cami, perhaps even loves her—but she is not the one he lives for.
She knows this, and has for some time—yet that certainty cannot diminish the sting of truth, it's sharp strike that shatters that moment of happiness.
For a moment, she cannot hide the pain. The shock leaves her too open, the reality that's kept itself curled in the back of her mind once more flooding her thoughts. She is dead within their world, and only alive here. She only exists within a terrible space, a torturous life designed to rip their identities away.
A prison where she has to somehow fashion a final chance.
She swallows around the thick lump of emotion, her eyes growing glossy with tears—yet they do not fall. Cami won't let them fall, and despite that vivid reminder of her own agony she forces a grin, so slight for all the effort that she puts into shaping it.]
I know. [She knows, and she understands. The logic is simple, the rationale plainly seen. He cannot live for the dead, and Cami cannot ask him to. She will not be so cruel to someone who means so much to her. This can be nothing more than a moment; they can be nothing more than a dream.
A life to be forgotten, whenever Wonderland ends it.]
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She knows this, and has for some time—yet that certainty cannot diminish the sting of truth, it's sharp strike that shatters that moment of happiness.
For a moment, she cannot hide the pain. The shock leaves her too open, the reality that's kept itself curled in the back of her mind once more flooding her thoughts. She is dead within their world, and only alive here. She only exists within a terrible space, a torturous life designed to rip their identities away.
A prison where she has to somehow fashion a final chance.
She swallows around the thick lump of emotion, her eyes growing glossy with tears—yet they do not fall. Cami won't let them fall, and despite that vivid reminder of her own agony she forces a grin, so slight for all the effort that she puts into shaping it.]
I know. [She knows, and she understands. The logic is simple, the rationale plainly seen. He cannot live for the dead, and Cami cannot ask him to. She will not be so cruel to someone who means so much to her. This can be nothing more than a moment; they can be nothing more than a dream.
A life to be forgotten, whenever Wonderland ends it.]