Zavien
Zavien accepts the clap on his shoulder with a thin smile, at least appreciative for some sort of sympathy. As for telling Lena his feelings... the Dragoon runs a hand through his hair again, closing his eyes for a moment. "Kind of?" With his hands free again, he kneads them together, feeling the blood flow push through to his fingers, trying to figure out the best way to explain everything.
"I don't know how to describe it. I guess... no matter what I say, she doesn't ask me questions or show interest in hearing more about my struggles. She listens but doesn't give any encouraging words other than talks of fighting or strategy. She says that she cares, but I still feel alone sometimes..." There are no offers of cuddles or teas for his nightmares, no offers to hear his story when he's ready, no words of comfort about how he's already made it through the hard part. Despite the fact that he knows she cares, from her words saying as such to the gentle tightening of her hand in his, it doesn't feel like he's getting anything he needs to feel like she cares, to feel loved.
He swallows against the tightening of his throat. "I just - I guess I don't know how to tell her that I need more." It sounds stupid coming from his mouth, that the Caretaker - the one who comforts and helps wounded animals heal - isn't doing enough to help him through the trauma he'd experienced. He shakes his head, letting out a loud sigh to dispel the idiocy, finally standing again. "But maybe it's just me. Maybe I need more time to process alone. Once Sol gets back, I think I might be able to do it - to get better." Zavien adjusts his bag, letting out a thin, fraying laugh. "And like I said, I still haven't tried getting drunk."
"I don't know how to describe it. I guess... no matter what I say, she doesn't ask me questions or show interest in hearing more about my struggles. She listens but doesn't give any encouraging words other than talks of fighting or strategy. She says that she cares, but I still feel alone sometimes..." There are no offers of cuddles or teas for his nightmares, no offers to hear his story when he's ready, no words of comfort about how he's already made it through the hard part. Despite the fact that he knows she cares, from her words saying as such to the gentle tightening of her hand in his, it doesn't feel like he's getting anything he needs to feel like she cares, to feel loved.
He swallows against the tightening of his throat. "I just - I guess I don't know how to tell her that I need more." It sounds stupid coming from his mouth, that the Caretaker - the one who comforts and helps wounded animals heal - isn't doing enough to help him through the trauma he'd experienced. He shakes his head, letting out a loud sigh to dispel the idiocy, finally standing again. "But maybe it's just me. Maybe I need more time to process alone. Once Sol gets back, I think I might be able to do it - to get better." Zavien adjusts his bag, letting out a thin, fraying laugh. "And like I said, I still haven't tried getting drunk."
I'd rather have a broken arm than a broken heart.
