Damien
there's some good in this
world worth fighting for
world worth fighting for
Damien was quiet for a long moment. The only sound between them was the roll of the surf farther out and the faint rustle of Aria rooting through the grass.
It wasn’t discomfort that kept him still—it was thought. What Remi had described was heavy, and he wasn’t about to cheapen it with easy words. After a beat, he exhaled slowly through his nose.
“Yeah..” he said at last, voice low. “That sounds… terrible.” The word was plain, deliberate. “And I’m sorry that’s what they put you through.”
He absently turned the stone in his palm. “I guess I’ve never been close enough to see the bad side of it.” His gaze flicked toward the horizon, where the light shimmered off the ocean waves. “I've only met them once and it was sort of... short and sweet, I guess. But—” he hesitated, trying to find the right words, “—not cruel.”
He glanced back at Remi, dark eyes steady. “Doesn’t excuse what they did. There’s no good reason for taking choice out of someone’s hands. But maybe that’s the point—they don’t live by the same lines we do. They don’t see right or wrong the way we do. Or maybe it's much simpler than that, and they make awful mistakes sometimes...” The suggestion felt forbidden, like a taboo, and his lips felt obligatory shame for having let the words slip through. But he didn't linger on the feeling. It wasn't the first time he'd realized, recently, through other's experiences, that the gods and heralds are not exactly perfect beings.
The corner of his mouth lifted faintly, humorless but not cold. “Guess that’s why they call them gods, not guides.” Ah... man.. That was really stupid. He shook his head in self-disappointment.
“Well, I appreciate you telling me all that. I can't imagine it's pleasant to relive the experiences but it does help to hear from someone who’s seen both sides.” His tone was sincere—an acknowledgment rather than a dismissal. “I’m not looking to end up in anyone's pocket, but… I don't know... I feel a pull to nature. Wish I could do more. It's... hard to explain.”
His gaze dipped, thoughtful. “Maybe it’s a bad idea.” He turned the stone once more in his hand before slipping it back into his pocket.
It wasn’t discomfort that kept him still—it was thought. What Remi had described was heavy, and he wasn’t about to cheapen it with easy words. After a beat, he exhaled slowly through his nose.
“Yeah..” he said at last, voice low. “That sounds… terrible.” The word was plain, deliberate. “And I’m sorry that’s what they put you through.”
He absently turned the stone in his palm. “I guess I’ve never been close enough to see the bad side of it.” His gaze flicked toward the horizon, where the light shimmered off the ocean waves. “I've only met them once and it was sort of... short and sweet, I guess. But—” he hesitated, trying to find the right words, “—not cruel.”
He glanced back at Remi, dark eyes steady. “Doesn’t excuse what they did. There’s no good reason for taking choice out of someone’s hands. But maybe that’s the point—they don’t live by the same lines we do. They don’t see right or wrong the way we do. Or maybe it's much simpler than that, and they make awful mistakes sometimes...” The suggestion felt forbidden, like a taboo, and his lips felt obligatory shame for having let the words slip through. But he didn't linger on the feeling. It wasn't the first time he'd realized, recently, through other's experiences, that the gods and heralds are not exactly perfect beings.
The corner of his mouth lifted faintly, humorless but not cold. “Guess that’s why they call them gods, not guides.” Ah... man.. That was really stupid. He shook his head in self-disappointment.
“Well, I appreciate you telling me all that. I can't imagine it's pleasant to relive the experiences but it does help to hear from someone who’s seen both sides.” His tone was sincere—an acknowledgment rather than a dismissal. “I’m not looking to end up in anyone's pocket, but… I don't know... I feel a pull to nature. Wish I could do more. It's... hard to explain.”
His gaze dipped, thoughtful. “Maybe it’s a bad idea.” He turned the stone once more in his hand before slipping it back into his pocket.
