Loathe the way they light candles in Rome,
But love the sweet air of the votives
But love the sweet air of the votives
He doesn't realize he's fucked up until the notes of pain infiltrate her voice, and even then it takes a moment for Koa to pinpoint his mistake. When he does, though, it nearly has him slamming his head on the table, a clawing panic squirming tauntingly against the base of his spine. Fuck fuck fuck. A circus of emotions flash across Koa's face - confusion, discomfiture, a blink of panic. But the Dragoon is good at improvising, and it isn't more than a couple seconds before he schools himself.
Koa's mouth forms a straight line; he forces guilt into his eyes. "C'mon, Noe - you know what I mean. I know you've been working super hard and you're so amazingly grown up and I couldn't be more proud, but I also know how much that can take out of someone. Especially with me being gone so much, and you having to look after Dad..." He bows his head, rubbing his neck and hoping he's selling this well enough.
"None of us are the same as we used to be, Nope. And I can't even remember the last time we took a family vacation. Not since... well, since Mom." There you go. Invoke your dead mother. There's no real argument to be made against that.
Koa's mouth forms a straight line; he forces guilt into his eyes. "C'mon, Noe - you know what I mean. I know you've been working super hard and you're so amazingly grown up and I couldn't be more proud, but I also know how much that can take out of someone. Especially with me being gone so much, and you having to look after Dad..." He bows his head, rubbing his neck and hoping he's selling this well enough.
"None of us are the same as we used to be, Nope. And I can't even remember the last time we took a family vacation. Not since... well, since Mom." There you go. Invoke your dead mother. There's no real argument to be made against that.
Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone;
Engage with the pain as a motive
Engage with the pain as a motive
