He nodded, confirming her memory, and there was little more that needed to be said. She looked small and wounded where she curled in the chair, and he wished he could reach out to her like he used to. Wished he had offered the circle of his arms more to her when she had wanted it, instead of being caught up in his own discomfort. Now that he wanted to return the hugs she had once given him it felt like it was verging on too late, if he hadn't already broken things past repair. She was uncomfortable now because of him, though, and he couldn't force her to bear his touch when his actions had already caused so much pain.
So he stayed where he was, sorting through the pieces of his own heart and wondering how many more times it would be broken before he learned his lesson. He had wanted so desperately to be her hero, her brother... someone she could rely on, who would have the answers she needed and the strength to support her.
In the end his own weaknesses had torn her down until he was half-monster himself. She could not trust him, and he couldn't blame her. She had given him so many chances already, and he had betrayed every one, even if he still wasn't sure how. In the end all that mattered was that she had seen it that way, had felt that way, and he had failed to live up to her expectations.
In the end nothing had changed since he had left Numeria, except the new faces that haunted his dreams when he wasn't in Rory's bed. People he had been unable to save... people he had hurt, or left, or let down. Adding Amalia to their number was his failing and his penance, no matter how disappointed Safrin and Ludo would be with him.
"Thank you," he said, voice equally soft, looking away as white ears stayed low against his skull, blending with his hair. "I'll do my best to protect her." He pushed away from the desk, reaching for the door and felt the clink of the mirrors in his pocket. For a moment he hesitated... but he had already pushed too far and done too much damage. Every word, every gesture was now second-guessed. If he gave her the mirror would it be seen as a lack of trust? Would she think he wanted to keep an eye on her? His shoulders shuddered as he realized there was no one else he could entrust the other half of the mirror to, and so he stayed silent on the matter. "I should... go see when she wants to leave," he said instead, swallowing his pain and trying to slip the old mask back into place. He looked back once, but the sight of her in the chair, curled like a child defending herself from him was too much to bear, and he closed the door gently behind him as he hid away the shift of his ears and reached through the bond for Isuma, needing to feel her love against the sorrow that threatened to drown him.
So he stayed where he was, sorting through the pieces of his own heart and wondering how many more times it would be broken before he learned his lesson. He had wanted so desperately to be her hero, her brother... someone she could rely on, who would have the answers she needed and the strength to support her.
In the end his own weaknesses had torn her down until he was half-monster himself. She could not trust him, and he couldn't blame her. She had given him so many chances already, and he had betrayed every one, even if he still wasn't sure how. In the end all that mattered was that she had seen it that way, had felt that way, and he had failed to live up to her expectations.
In the end nothing had changed since he had left Numeria, except the new faces that haunted his dreams when he wasn't in Rory's bed. People he had been unable to save... people he had hurt, or left, or let down. Adding Amalia to their number was his failing and his penance, no matter how disappointed Safrin and Ludo would be with him.
"Thank you," he said, voice equally soft, looking away as white ears stayed low against his skull, blending with his hair. "I'll do my best to protect her." He pushed away from the desk, reaching for the door and felt the clink of the mirrors in his pocket. For a moment he hesitated... but he had already pushed too far and done too much damage. Every word, every gesture was now second-guessed. If he gave her the mirror would it be seen as a lack of trust? Would she think he wanted to keep an eye on her? His shoulders shuddered as he realized there was no one else he could entrust the other half of the mirror to, and so he stayed silent on the matter. "I should... go see when she wants to leave," he said instead, swallowing his pain and trying to slip the old mask back into place. He looked back once, but the sight of her in the chair, curled like a child defending herself from him was too much to bear, and he closed the door gently behind him as he hid away the shift of his ears and reached through the bond for Isuma, needing to feel her love against the sorrow that threatened to drown him.
