herwatcher inquired:
❝ "I'd expected a lot more from you."
Perfectionism was ever a double-edged blade, driving her to greater heights, toppling her down when satisfaction lay beyond reach. Criticism felt more akin to condemnation, a declaration that she would never please, never succeed, never impress in the manner which Sansa so desired. Normal — that’s what she would be. Unremarkable, utterly unworthy of note or remembrance, brushed aside in favor of those far more wondrous than one as disappointing as she.
“ ——— I expected more from myself, sir.”
