She noticed the pull back as she said it - perhaps it had been sudden but...she couldn't keep holding it in. It'd been weighing on her, building up behind her wall of denial and now it felt almost good to be saying it, despite how sickening it was to think about.
She, herself, pulled back just a little, more out of respect then anything. It hit her a second later that Oliver might not want to talk to her anymore. Maybe she shouldn't have said it. Maybe she shouldn't have even brought it up.
"You can bring up whatever you like," Oliver answered, quietly and evenly, "and I hope your stuff gets sorted out, but if you are Blackberry--well. A lot of people would kill you," he said. Plain. Blunt.
True.
"If you are her, I also don't know how you escaped Eridanus. I don't know what Rift will say."
He paused, and then spent a moment giving careful, detailed directions to Eridanus, including what landmarks he could think of. With that done, he watched her, silent, for a moment--his expression veiled. He still didn't quite know what to think, himself, and her stammering apologies hadn't affected that. Was it shock? Fear? Caution? -He didn't know. He didn't feel anger, or hatred--he knew that--but his sympathy for her had somehow become clouded. It wasn't that he didn't wish for her to find herself; he did.
But perhaps some part of him wondered what had happened to justice; and whether this was a trick. Whether she might lash out and hurt someone again. Or maybe... the nightmares were still too strong in his mind.
They visited him, after all, nearly every night.
@Nameless
Oliver's calm was disturbing to the goose. He should be upset or something or displaying...any kind of emotion. Right? This was a huge deal. She didn't pry, though, only listening to his directions politely and trying to stay calm herself.
It was all she offered to him, swallowing heavily. She was worried about his peace of mind. Bringing up such things and then telling him that she was the reason for his misery and whatever nightmares he probably had wouldn't be easy to accept. Perhaps it was better to just leave him. Stop associating with him, give him space to recover without the ghost of his memory breathing down his back.
*exit
Oliver listened, giving the bird... giving Blackberry?... a brief nod. He still... didn't know what to say. To do.
For a time he simply sat there, old memories--no... they weren't old memories; but they were memories. Traumatic, horrible memories. And Oliver sat quiet as the last whisper of the white goose's feet faded from the grove. How did he feel about this..? What did he think-?
Impulsively, at last, he spoke, looking up:
"You don't remember any of it?" It was disbelief, a quiet, hesitant confusion, and strength--his mind slowly winding back together from the shock of the revelation, and trying to piece past and present into on another once more.
But the goose was gone, and Oliver, alone in his Grove, slowly raised his hands to his eyes and sat, quietly weeping at his nightmares.
exit Oliver