[ They don't know how to answer that. There's so little they know about the Drifter, about this person they've come to care for very much.
Instead of using the words that have been granted to them, they step close, hands folding over the Drifter's own. (For a moment they stand still, almost shocked by how easy it is to do this. Their hands are almost the same size.
They had wondered what it would be like. To grow up. To stand tall as their sibling did.
This dream had given them some measure of it, too. It's a bitter thing to realise.
They've had dreams that hurt, dreams that destroyed them over and over. The echoes of others' pain and sacrifice. Never before have they had a dream that brings happiness.) ]
not sure |
this is yours |
[ They close their eyes for a moment (they're still not sure what these tears are, what to do about them, are they supposed to be falling like this?) before blinking rapidly, chasing away that blurriness.
They mimic something they've seen before, gently turning over the Drifter's hand (unwilling to let go of it), tracing letters in their palm.
Sorry.
The Drifter deserves to be happy, to be free from pain. Somewhere, perhaps, things had gone right.
But this wasn't it, was it? Doomed to be trapped inside a dream, inside your own head. That wasn't a fate anyone deserved.
That is what the Knight believes, the heart of their conviction.
no subject
Instead of using the words that have been granted to them, they step close, hands folding over the Drifter's own. (For a moment they stand still, almost shocked by how easy it is to do this. Their hands are almost the same size.
They had wondered what it would be like. To grow up. To stand tall as their sibling did.
This dream had given them some measure of it, too. It's a bitter thing to realise.
They've had dreams that hurt, dreams that destroyed them over and over. The echoes of others' pain and sacrifice. Never before have they had a dream that brings happiness.) ]
not sure |
this is yours |
[ They close their eyes for a moment (they're still not sure what these tears are, what to do about them, are they supposed to be falling like this?) before blinking rapidly, chasing away that blurriness.
They mimic something they've seen before, gently turning over the Drifter's hand (unwilling to let go of it), tracing letters in their palm.
Sorry.
The Drifter deserves to be happy, to be free from pain. Somewhere, perhaps, things had gone right.
But this wasn't it, was it? Doomed to be trapped inside a dream, inside your own head. That wasn't a fate anyone deserved.
That is what the Knight believes, the heart of their conviction.
They just wish it didn't hurt so much. ]