It was such a vivid thing, memory; even as he cried the fear and the tension out of his body, he could still feel the exact moment when he realized just how badly he had miscalculated. The moment when his heart and bones had frozen, gone cold, when fear had punched him in the gut and the fire had reflected in his eyes. The silence which had bound his tongue for fear of provoking them again.
The memory of agony, which had his heart racing.
He buried his face in white fur as he tried to shake off the fear.
And bit by bit it left his body, mixed with water and salt. Slowly his shoulders ceased their shaking. He was glad for Amalia's hands upon his shoulder and back—a strange repetition of history—and when he finally sniffled a last time, wiping the back of a hand across his face, and straightened up, he did so with the intention of leaning slightly against her. A silent I may not be hugging the life out of you in my lap, but I love you all the same.
He drew in a thick, muffled breath and tipped his head back, blinking blue eyes up at the blue skies. His eyelashes were still damp. Fingers busied themselves in silken white fur. He still felt cold each time his mind touched on the previous encounter, but it .. he couldn't quite describe it, the release, just that the sickening, nauseating feeling was gone (for now). He drew in a couple of more unsteady breaths, still looking at the sky.
"I got so frustrated with Roana," he said. His voice was low and rough. "She just wouldn't back off. I kept telling her to, to not do something just because she thought it was the right thing. She had the audacity to drag up my comments from when Wessex died, calling them 'advice', saying I had somehow helped in all of this because of telling them off. I had already lost most of my patience at that point and snapped that, well.. exactly what I wanted to prevent had happened. Ronin died." He shuddered, lightly.
"I just wanted to drive the point home, y'know? To keep her from throwing more lives away?" He shook his head. He had been saying a lot of things, and a lot of them hadn't been nice, and a lot of them had been loud. He was no saint, and he had never claimed to be, either.
"Edy marched up to me then. Her face was just this.. wild, hateful thing, her eyes... The fire around her hands..." A small shiver coursed through him. When he spoke again, his voice was very quiet. "She told me that if she ever heard me say Ronin's name again, she'd kill me."
And he believed her.
And he knew that she could do it.
He looked down from the sky, to the side. "They took their turns chewing me out after that. Vai's daughter made a similar threat, though hers made it sound like I'd survive, though just not comfortably."
Or just a prolonged death. Who knew? He didn't; and he didn't want to find out. He trailed off into silence, looking away from them. The scar crawling up his neck felt tight, constricting, choking.
Swallowing, he blinked some fresh tears away.
The memory of agony, which had his heart racing.
He buried his face in white fur as he tried to shake off the fear.
And bit by bit it left his body, mixed with water and salt. Slowly his shoulders ceased their shaking. He was glad for Amalia's hands upon his shoulder and back—a strange repetition of history—and when he finally sniffled a last time, wiping the back of a hand across his face, and straightened up, he did so with the intention of leaning slightly against her. A silent I may not be hugging the life out of you in my lap, but I love you all the same.
He drew in a thick, muffled breath and tipped his head back, blinking blue eyes up at the blue skies. His eyelashes were still damp. Fingers busied themselves in silken white fur. He still felt cold each time his mind touched on the previous encounter, but it .. he couldn't quite describe it, the release, just that the sickening, nauseating feeling was gone (for now). He drew in a couple of more unsteady breaths, still looking at the sky.
"I got so frustrated with Roana," he said. His voice was low and rough. "She just wouldn't back off. I kept telling her to, to not do something just because she thought it was the right thing. She had the audacity to drag up my comments from when Wessex died, calling them 'advice', saying I had somehow helped in all of this because of telling them off. I had already lost most of my patience at that point and snapped that, well.. exactly what I wanted to prevent had happened. Ronin died." He shuddered, lightly.
"I just wanted to drive the point home, y'know? To keep her from throwing more lives away?" He shook his head. He had been saying a lot of things, and a lot of them hadn't been nice, and a lot of them had been loud. He was no saint, and he had never claimed to be, either.
"Edy marched up to me then. Her face was just this.. wild, hateful thing, her eyes... The fire around her hands..." A small shiver coursed through him. When he spoke again, his voice was very quiet. "She told me that if she ever heard me say Ronin's name again, she'd kill me."
And he believed her.
And he knew that she could do it.
He looked down from the sky, to the side. "They took their turns chewing me out after that. Vai's daughter made a similar threat, though hers made it sound like I'd survive, though just not comfortably."
Or just a prolonged death. Who knew? He didn't; and he didn't want to find out. He trailed off into silence, looking away from them. The scar crawling up his neck felt tight, constricting, choking.
Swallowing, he blinked some fresh tears away.
