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+---- Thread: Flickering Memories (/showthread.php?tid=1651)
RE: Flickering Memories - Phoebe - 08-23-2019
Phoebe listened to him, frowning a little. She could understand where he was coming from, being the sort to place far too much blame on herself as it was. But...perhaps she could give him Frey's advice, since he had at least met that diety. [say]"I understand why you feel that way. But... let me tell you something Frey told me once. It isn't all your fault and you shouldn't bear that burden on your shoulders. It isn't your blame to carry. You didn't kill Lusea, your father did because he was a horrible person. If I die...well you didn't give me the blight, I exposed myself to it."[/say] she said with a small smile at him.
[say]"Love is a gift, not a death sentance. You need to give yourself the freedom to mourn and love simultaneously. One doesn't necessarily result in the other."[/say] she said softly. Phoebe finished her glass, trying to pour another but it was clear from the shake in her hands that would prove difficult at best. [say]"Ugh. I am so useless."[/say] she grumbled as she tried to not spill wine everywhere.
RE: Flickering Memories - Sunjata - 08-23-2019
She tells him that she understands, but there’s a part of him that wonders if she does. It was true, his father was the one to hold and wield the knife, but it had been him careless, stretching and reaching for someone he could never have, rebelling too much, helping their cause and anarchy. The Prince Insurgence, it had been nicknamed, and while he never knew if he’d beat out the others for the title of successor, he had proven himself to those less fortunate, the underdogs, the ones that needed it the most.
He wonders if his father was afraid of what he and Lusea could do, in the end.
Of course it did little use, and he listens, feeling the same fleeting feeling beneath his hands as she mentions the blight. And while that was true, even if he hadn’t met her, she would still be suffering and alone. And at least in that regard, he could be there. He just didn’t want to watch another ones light slip away. He sighs heavily, watching while she struggles with the glass. Love was a death sentence, because in the end everyone,
left,
eventually.
He reaches for the bottle and instead of taking it from her, he helps her pour, leaning in to press a kiss to her brow. “[say]You are not useless.[/say]” His voice is rough, perhaps a smidge mournful, but he tries for her.