@daemonify said: " to watch you choose him again & again . have you not any mind for yourself at all ?! . . . " you're worsening with time , he thinks , but does not speak. she already knows. he needn't drive that further than it has already gone.
when ravus speaks, her eyes wander almost immediately to the window. just outside, was a beautiful altissian landscape. the sparkling sea ... beautiful architecture ... bustling populace. why was it, that even though she had been awarded station outside of niflheim, it still felt the same ?
one big window to the outside world, and a pane of glass to separate them.
it hardly mattered, as did anything ravus had to say about the topic of her duty. if she had any more spirit to give, he would surely be met with a snide remark, effectively ending the conversation. instead, she'd let him speak.
her body hurt. her head hurt. it felt as if all energy had been sapped from her in its entirety, as if the chair she sat in was the only thing stopping her from collapsing onto the floor. she didn't want to listen. it was a pointless means of debate. he says it as if she had any choice ... as if it was not her birthright to die in foreign waters.
as soon as their mother died, her life was no longer her own. she belonged to the stars + lived in endless servitude to the people. the words ravus speaks are inane. he knows this. he's searching for something to blame. he wants a reason for all of this to have happened.
how did the altissian sea always glisten ? tenebrae's always seemed so dark. all encompassing ... as if one could sink unto the pits of the planet. here, from the window ... she could almost float away.
in her memory, they are children. he scouts the way for foxes and bears. he doesn't let her dirty her clothes, or scrape her knees. she's always looking at his back. wide enough for her to think it could encompass her whole world. she didn't want it to be hard. everything was always so hard. she wanted to look up to him like she always had. to hold his hand through rolling fields. he used to be so gentle. he used to be so kind.
lunafreya's neck limply flops to one side to face him, words weak on her lips. " have i ... done well ? "
