‘ you can hate me forever if that’s what you really want ’
Poetry Starters
“Always a woman of extremes aren’t you?” Oz scoffs. This is pointless. He is not who she thinks he is or should be.
“I’m not him. I haven’t been him in centuries, maybe longer. He is still here somewhere perhaps,” he gives a vague odd airy gesture at his general person, “but the point remains. I only bring this up because I really think the ‘you’ you’re trying to refer to never actually had the capacity to truly do what your implying. He could never despise you. Never mind for eternity.”
“I can’t say that I don’t. But, my dear, you’re not even at the summit of your worst. You’re dangerously close, mind you, but I can’t attribute all the things she’s done to you either.”
All he manages is brutally cold shrug of his shoulders, exasperation and irritation clear on his features and frame but not outright disgust or hatred. In his best, kindest moments however, he can only offer her something the wizard knows she would loathe and never forgive him for: pity.
So Ozpin won’t.
“It’s an odd place we find ourselves I admit, but fate and the gods have never been kind enough to make things that simple or black and white. We have better things here to waste our breath on.”
