"Ah. 'Tis no surprise I find thee here."
Thancred's shoulders tensed, but he didn't move otherwise. Of all people, he thought. Not that he expected anyone else in the Waking Sands.
"Urianger." His voice was light, contrasting the strained atmosphere. He did not turn to greet him, hoping the Elezen would leave him be.
But of course he didn't. The doors to the Solar shuddered heavily behind him, followed by the quiet shuffle of his leather sandles.
"I..." Urianger's voice faltered. Then he started again. "I had hoped we might speak of Minfilia."
Thancred shifted, shaking his head but still not turning Urianger's way. His gloved fingertips skimmed over the polished surface of what had been the Antecedent's desk. There was a thin layer of dust upon it now that made him sick.
"Ah, yes. Not quite my favorite subject at the moment, I'm afraid," he chuckled humorlessly. And certainly not with you.
He understood the situation. He had gone over it in his mind in detail for days now, every choice and motivation and possible outcome -- it was always the same. Only Minfilia could have done what she did, and seeing her in the aetherial sea -- he believed her words. That she had done what was asked of her by Hydaelyn willingly. That Urianger had made the best of a terrible situation and an impossible choice, and yet he still did not want to see his face right now.
Yet here he was, pushing his luck.
"You know, Urianger, most people try to finish their sentences in a timely manner." The mask dropped. Too quick, too much, too soon. He needed to leave before he said or did something he would regret, but in order to do so, he had to turn to face him. "If you have something to say, please get on with it. You're usually so much better with your words."
Urianger flinched. In his time with the Scions, he had known Thancred to be a man of many identities. Such was the nature of his role. He could melt into any crowd, mimic any accent, and be exactly who he needed to be for whoever he needed to encounter. He had often wondered if such a life had left Thancred with a shallower sense of self. Yet clearly, that was not the case: the man before him, despite his attempts at banter, was mourning the loss of Minfilia in his own way, and teeming with resentment besides.
He would try to keep this brief.
"I know that mine actions have since been laid bare, but to thee I feel I doth yet owe an apology. Minfilia was more than a comrade to thee; she was family. If I could have been sent hence in her stead, I would have done so without pause. Still, I shall accept if thy forgiveness be withheld."
Thancred's fingers twitched, wanting to ball into a fist. It was all so futile. This apology and all of the sympathies he had heard and received these past few days amounted to naught, because no amount of forgiveness would bring Minfilia back. Everyting that the Scions were, all they had accomplished -- she was supposed to be here.
To see it all. To witness their triumphs and join in their in their sorrows, to live a full life! She was young and vibrant and had so many years yet left to her.
Thancred was angry. So unbelievably angry, and yet there was no one he could aim those feeling towards in a way that would satisfy him or end the pain. Hydaelyn. Urianger. The Warrior of Light themself. Could they not had made other choices, could they not have found a way to spare her? Minfilia had yielded to the Mother Crystal's light, but what about the people she left behind who had to mourn her? Krile did not yet know. He was going to have to pen that letter to her and yet he had put it off, because writing the words Minfilia was gone felt too final.
What was the point of being a Scion when the reasons he had joined them were all gone? Louisioux. Minfilia. Countless, countless others, comrades-in-arms left lifeless on a battlefield or even in these very halls! The ghosts of everyone who had and would die yet lingered and he was supposed to volunteer to keep going?
He forced his hand to relax. The mask returned. It was easier to just be someone else.
"Nonsense," He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. His voice was still tight. He cleared his throat and said, "As you've said, you had to make a difficult choice. You were not in an enviable position, my friend. And besides, Minfilia made her choice of her own free will. I cannot argue that, even if I wanted to." It was time to go. He couldn't stand being in this room any longer. It was suffocating.
He brushed past Urianger, his legs carrying him at a brisk pace towards the exit.
"Let's leave this subject in the past now, shall we? Minfilia wouldn't want you to be tormented by this."
Urianger watched him leaving. It was best to simply leave the conversation as Thancred requested. Clearly, he was not in the mood to discuss his thoughts or feelings. Yet Urianger could not abide.
"I still blame myself for Moenbryda," he said. His voice was rough with emotion. "Even if fate allowed naught else, and her sacrifice was her own design, still, I bear the stain." He paused to collect himself. "Shouldst thou ever desire to speak of it, know that I will gladly listen."
Thancred's stepped slowed, but he did not stop. He left the Solar without another word. Still, he would keep Urianger's offer in mind nonetheless.
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