One edge of his lips quirks up higher, "I wouldn't put it past you," he confesses, though he hardly means it. She's far too kind, reminding him of all the things he once hoped to be, maybe still could be, though never quite like her. He's committed himself to becoming the warrior that his bloodline calls for, his pacifist days left behind somewhere in the maze—buried at some pit level. Maybe she's no less edged with war, in her own ways, but her battles seem better waged on a couch than a field.
"Y'know," he drawls a bit, head turning her sideways as he tilts it against his hand. "I envy you a bit." It's said gently, raw with a certain honesty that doesn't try to be anything but real. "I always wanted to bring joy to people. To find ways to battle darkness without bloodshed Never once thought to do what you do.” He shrugs slightly, water shifting with him, like this isn't something with weight, because for him it isn't. While many things might drag him down, admitting when he's been blind or wrong, recognizing the strengths in others, those have always been simple. “But I think you manage both things rather well.”
"Y'know," he drawls a bit, head turning her sideways as he tilts it against his hand. "I envy you a bit." It's said gently, raw with a certain honesty that doesn't try to be anything but real. "I always wanted to bring joy to people. To find ways to battle darkness without bloodshed Never once thought to do what you do.” He shrugs slightly, water shifting with him, like this isn't something with weight, because for him it isn't. While many things might drag him down, admitting when he's been blind or wrong, recognizing the strengths in others, those have always been simple. “But I think you manage both things rather well.”
Iskra
