sacrifice what you are for what you can become
Henry could sense her anger, could see it. Well, actually, she'd been angry the whole entire time - and it had always been obvious. This side of it seemed different, though; bleaker and heavier. As she clarified and snapped and hissed out her story to him, sympathy softened the confused creases on his face. Her hands balled into fists, but, he didn't flinch away. He didn't know if she would hit him and he wouldn't for a second underestimate this rage that roiled inside of her. However, in this moment, this exact moment, he was all she had.
And, no, the Voice doesn't make him quake. If only these were laughing matters, because then he might laugh at such an idea. An Attuned, yes, but if anything he was a traitor to his Gods. He was helping the Voice. Well, he had, anyway. The thought did occur to him that he needed to do much more but, for now... Wessex had turned his focus towards something else. He reflected, for a moment, if that was stupid. If he should be putting more of an effort into this... fight, rather than just proclaiming to support the Ascended. People like this girl... lost, angry, fading into depths beyond measure in spite of the strength they carried in their worried shoulders.. they needed as much help as they could get.
"I'm sorry that happened to you," the words leave him soft, genuine. There's a melancholic tune in his voice, a sadness in his dark eyes. "I haven't heard about that... I've been preparing to go to Torchline for the season, not much time for gossip... I should stay and fight for the Ascended and the Voice, but I don't think it's something I can help them with... not just yet, at least. I'd only slow them down right now," his gaze draws back towards the Sanctuary. Though it may not be visible from these reaches of the Wilds, he knew where it could be found. He'd always know. That was his home, and it pulled him towards it the way a beacon brings lost ships home, like a gravitational pull. Only, he isn't lost and he isn't falling. So he turns his blue eyes back towards her. "There are other things that I have to do," he resolves towards her, taking steps through the snow, "a message to spread, if you will." A long breath comes out through his nose, a sigh to relieve himself of the tension in his mind. "But if you want, I can walk you back to the Grounds. Otherwise, it's that way." He pointed in the direction, just in case she had lost her sense of direction in these winding, searching circles she drove herself mad in.
He continues to walk past her, away from the monolithic hills. He only pauses once, to stand beside her, to set his hand on her shoulder. "She isn't here..." Truth be told, he doesn't know that for certain. But this feels clear to him, anyway, so he steps on. There isn't much else he can do to change her mind or which direction she points her feet.
And, no, the Voice doesn't make him quake. If only these were laughing matters, because then he might laugh at such an idea. An Attuned, yes, but if anything he was a traitor to his Gods. He was helping the Voice. Well, he had, anyway. The thought did occur to him that he needed to do much more but, for now... Wessex had turned his focus towards something else. He reflected, for a moment, if that was stupid. If he should be putting more of an effort into this... fight, rather than just proclaiming to support the Ascended. People like this girl... lost, angry, fading into depths beyond measure in spite of the strength they carried in their worried shoulders.. they needed as much help as they could get.
"I'm sorry that happened to you," the words leave him soft, genuine. There's a melancholic tune in his voice, a sadness in his dark eyes. "I haven't heard about that... I've been preparing to go to Torchline for the season, not much time for gossip... I should stay and fight for the Ascended and the Voice, but I don't think it's something I can help them with... not just yet, at least. I'd only slow them down right now," his gaze draws back towards the Sanctuary. Though it may not be visible from these reaches of the Wilds, he knew where it could be found. He'd always know. That was his home, and it pulled him towards it the way a beacon brings lost ships home, like a gravitational pull. Only, he isn't lost and he isn't falling. So he turns his blue eyes back towards her. "There are other things that I have to do," he resolves towards her, taking steps through the snow, "a message to spread, if you will." A long breath comes out through his nose, a sigh to relieve himself of the tension in his mind. "But if you want, I can walk you back to the Grounds. Otherwise, it's that way." He pointed in the direction, just in case she had lost her sense of direction in these winding, searching circles she drove herself mad in.
He continues to walk past her, away from the monolithic hills. He only pauses once, to stand beside her, to set his hand on her shoulder. "She isn't here..." Truth be told, he doesn't know that for certain. But this feels clear to him, anyway, so he steps on. There isn't much else he can do to change her mind or which direction she points her feet.
HENRY
