He didn't know what lonely road her thoughts had wandered down, but he saw the darkening of her expression that spoke as clearly as words her disagreement with what he had said, even before she voiced it. And what could he say in return? He had not known them, could not offer an alternative point of view on what they surely would have thought. From Melita's own descriptions he assumed kindness, forgiveness, acceptance, and love to be a part of them both. Family did not always mean loving bonds, but from the care put into the lanterns and what she had said, he dared to think that love did, indeed, tie her family together, across worlds and even death.
Her list of sins - at least that she was willing to share - was small, but it brought the bard up short for a moment as he gazed at her and saw a mirror of his own insecurities and guilt. He could not give her forgiveness, nor did he think she wanted it at the moment, and certainly not from him. His increasingly volatile temper burned low tonight, at least, the solemnity of the occasion turning his thoughts more to mourning than to rage, and his weary heart reached out to her.
Isuma did as well, joining Fangorn in pressing a fluffy side against Melita's legs and purring a small rumble of reassurance as the bard offered the honeybee girl his trembling hand and a sad smile. "You are more than your mistakes," he said quietly. "You are your courage and your light, too; the help you have given unstintingly and without thought for reward, and you are a protector as well as an avenger. You do not need to be perfect. From how you describe them, they had love enough to share with you." Melita was summer's daughter, a scion of the sun. It hurt to see her lively mischief and boundless energy sapped and her confidence shredded, and the pain was only magnified but not knowing what to do or say to help.
The irony, of course, was that he could not help himself. If he could help his friend, though, he would not need to dwell on the loss and guilt that haunted his own broken heart, and perhaps they find a measure of solace together that eluded them alone.
Her list of sins - at least that she was willing to share - was small, but it brought the bard up short for a moment as he gazed at her and saw a mirror of his own insecurities and guilt. He could not give her forgiveness, nor did he think she wanted it at the moment, and certainly not from him. His increasingly volatile temper burned low tonight, at least, the solemnity of the occasion turning his thoughts more to mourning than to rage, and his weary heart reached out to her.
Isuma did as well, joining Fangorn in pressing a fluffy side against Melita's legs and purring a small rumble of reassurance as the bard offered the honeybee girl his trembling hand and a sad smile. "You are more than your mistakes," he said quietly. "You are your courage and your light, too; the help you have given unstintingly and without thought for reward, and you are a protector as well as an avenger. You do not need to be perfect. From how you describe them, they had love enough to share with you." Melita was summer's daughter, a scion of the sun. It hurt to see her lively mischief and boundless energy sapped and her confidence shredded, and the pain was only magnified but not knowing what to do or say to help.
The irony, of course, was that he could not help himself. If he could help his friend, though, he would not need to dwell on the loss and guilt that haunted his own broken heart, and perhaps they find a measure of solace together that eluded them alone.
