and on to the glory at my right hand
Ronin manages a gasp that just hints at being mischievous, the Huntsman tilting his head at his daughter and smirking. "Are you saying I can be suffocating?" he says, knowing full well that he absolutely can be at times. He lets her turn his hands, mapping the pathway of the years, the weapons he's wielded, the tools he's used, the people he's held. And he keeps his eyes on their palms as she speaks, his brow furrowing, a sense of sadness drawing the amusement from his expression.
Scooting around to sit beside her, Ronin reaches out to wrap an arm around his daughter, drawing her close against his side. "I can't even imagine," he says softly. "There's not really a rulebook for this sort of thing, is there? Or a guide to take you through it all." He nudges her gently. "The person you end up trusting the most should be yourself, though. I know that much. But that does mean failing, and trying, and sometimes it might even mean hurting people. The experiences are what will make you wise, Seren. So just keep being yourself, complicated and messy and all the rest of it. Trust me when I say you'll be alright."
Scooting around to sit beside her, Ronin reaches out to wrap an arm around his daughter, drawing her close against his side. "I can't even imagine," he says softly. "There's not really a rulebook for this sort of thing, is there? Or a guide to take you through it all." He nudges her gently. "The person you end up trusting the most should be yourself, though. I know that much. But that does mean failing, and trying, and sometimes it might even mean hurting people. The experiences are what will make you wise, Seren. So just keep being yourself, complicated and messy and all the rest of it. Trust me when I say you'll be alright."
ronin
