[ They don't really understand why he's apologising. It's not something they look for or find especially necessary, especially here.
In the end, it's a simple desire, isn't it? To remember something that you once had, to long for something that can't be repaired.
(In some ways, if they were predisposed to envy, if they didn't understand how terrible this pain of separation was, they would almost be jealous.
No matter how painful the memory compared with what came after, there was a time where he was loved before he was cast away.
But it's a tired, brittle feeling, caused by exhaustion, by doing too much at once. It lasts for a heartbeat, for a long second, before they brush it away easily. Ash in the wind.
They feel a twinge of guilt for even thinking it.)
Tiredness makes it easy to sink back into that state they had once embraced, that forgiving darkness. In the light of the flame, there is always a flickering, dancing shadow.
They're strong enough, even down an arm (their sibling was-is-strong enough without it, too), even as exhausted as they are, so they...
They do what they are good at, what they are best at. They do what must be done, as they have always have.
Here and now, there is no other choice.
It feels easy to let old instincts take over, to fight as they're used to doing, to hunt and chase and interact with the world at the point of a blade.
Later, later, they will face themselves later and pay for it later -- but right now, they need that numbing, healing darkness, the strength that once united an ocean of regrets and consumed a god.
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In the end, it's a simple desire, isn't it? To remember something that you once had, to long for something that can't be repaired.
(In some ways, if they were predisposed to envy, if they didn't understand how terrible this pain of separation was, they would almost be jealous.
No matter how painful the memory compared with what came after, there was a time where he was loved before he was cast away.
But it's a tired, brittle feeling, caused by exhaustion, by doing too much at once. It lasts for a heartbeat, for a long second, before they brush it away easily. Ash in the wind.
They feel a twinge of guilt for even thinking it.)
Tiredness makes it easy to sink back into that state they had once embraced, that forgiving darkness. In the light of the flame, there is always a flickering, dancing shadow.
They're strong enough, even down an arm (their sibling was-is-strong enough without it, too), even as exhausted as they are, so they...
They do what they are good at, what they are best at. They do what must be done, as they have always have.
Here and now, there is no other choice.
It feels easy to let old instincts take over, to fight as they're used to doing, to hunt and chase and interact with the world at the point of a blade.
Later, later, they will face themselves later and pay for it later -- but right now, they need that numbing, healing darkness, the strength that once united an ocean of regrets and consumed a god.
They will bring an end to this painful dream. ]