@abyssine ; tataru foretold: ❛ if you keep waiting until you’re done ‘ working on yourself ’ before you let yourself be with the person you love, you’re never gonna be with them. and they’ll find someone else who is brave enough to give them a chance to love them exactly how they already are. ❜
FROM WHENCE SEARING TRUTH IS SPILT, SO TOO IS HIS HEART HALVED, a shattering, stuttering, stop. he grunts and burgundy pinprick does swell 'pon fingertip from distraction, though he's quick to hide, curl bloodied digit into fist smudging red into palm, and re-adjust his hold on the sewing needle. what was a hero when there was no one to call ? in the scarcest of tranquil that was borne, there was no warrior, no sword of light or fist of god, here he was nobody ─── a man burdened by the horrors that wrote ballads strong, solitary in anguish and yearning, and who would be there to speak his tale in truth ? ( he could think of one, a red haired martyr who loved the world more than he ─── tataru called him as she saw it, perhaps she was fearsome yet to see through him so well where many others failed to try; ' hydaelyn's chosen ', a brand upon his very being )
NO, THE MAN WHO SAT HERE WAS NAUGHT BEING OF LEGEND NOR FLAME. he was one of simplicity, a weary soul seeking long deserved respite knowing yet what the dawn would bring, but for now ─── he was a man who finally lacked in proficiency, unbridled by the divine, and simply a friend in need of treasured company. his mother would scold him had she still the presence of mind to linger, scoff and patch an aching wound soon to scab, a kindhearted reprimand of clumsiness he'd sullenly accept; this, he'd lost longer than he dared to consider. no, his wounds no longer scabbed over, they lingered bone deep. each act of remembrance another cavity, a bad habit he wasn't planning to quit ( in his sentimentality, he would breathe their life, and hold out his hopes 'til their next reunion ). and he was an endless cacophony of bad habits, roiling temper and fatalistic battles, who could love someone like that ? rose colored glasses would only get you so far, it was only a matter of time until ───
HE SPEAKS GRUFF, DARK HELM TILTING IN HER DIRECTION, an ache hidden 'neath subdued inquisitiveness. he knew better than to blindly believe in raw hope, but by the twelve he wanted to. had he been spoonfed fairytales and fables instead of the threat of war, of realities unfeeling rivers and it's icy currents sweeping him under, maybe his days wouldn't be spent needlessly pining away; lilacs watching from afar, gaze stained with flashes of auburn locks and the telling jump of astute ears, and a knowing smile g'raha would send his way ─── his own canines digging into inner cheek, for who knew the warrior of light to be struck with nerves and hesitance. this was the one battle he wasn't quite sure he'd win, and despite, despite, despite, it was one he didn't want to lose ( he'd choked on the flesh of his heart once before / ' oh do not look at me so, a smile better suits a hero ' ), but ───
❝ how do i ... ❞, he stalls, throat clearing distractedly, approach nothing short of awkward, sewing all but forgotten, ❝ they're ... not someone i can bear to lose, which is easier said than done. ❞
HE WAS MUCH TOO FAMILIAR WITH FATEFUL GOODBYES, and with each step into the unknown he was certain the next would spell a permanence not even he could prevent ( he, too, would dive unto the sunless sea for not even fate itself could stop all he would do in service of him ), every promise a daring tether that threatened to snap; his cowardice a fatal skewer, so content was he to watch, but for how long ? too many would bury themselves for the warrior's sake, and g'raha was no exception. yet weary though he was of that ever disappointing idolism, he couldn't quite chastise him, of all people, for it. never him ( always on the cusp of loss and a yearning that overtook jiyu ), for in spite of it all he saw 'neath champion's veneer and approached him, him, not eorzea's champion nor hydaelyn's chosen and oh, how it weakened his spirit; with that endless wonder, gentle questions unto who jiyu was, of exploits banal and grand alike to simply hear him, and pacts of future adventures ─── a weary sigh leaves him, thumb rubbing the bridge of his nose, defeated.
❝ saving h ─── them is one thing, but telling them ... it's impossible to love the unlovable. ❞, his lips press tight for a moment, considering, 'til hands reach out to collect both tea cups empty,
❝ we're out. i'll prepare more. ❞
