"Always." His fingers curl into fists under her touch. "Not even a thousand years is enough to expunge it."
He never escaped the mocking. How many times did he hear that he was a failure? Oh, how his master delighted in reminding him that those scars would always hold him back. Who would love a marred creature like him? Who would respect a vampire who couldn't stand to eat?
"It shames me that I became like him, even a fraction. I told myself I wouldn't." He failed there, too.
There's something of a huff, a tiny shake of her head.
"Hence what you said about being better, every day."
That's his to carry along with the dead. There's no idealistic outcome where he didn't become what he did. Where circumstances are to blame. The parts of it that are his are his. She does not offer forgiveness, only understanding in the most bitter, blood soaked sense. But still, her hands are warm.
It's better that she doesn't try to dissuade him of that. He must carry this load to make sure that he never lets himself slip again. If arrogance was his downfall, then humility must be his uprising.
He gives her hand a squeeze, and then withdraws. "Thank you, Fever, for hearing me out. I do not take it lightly that you came to talk rather than to avenge. You can stay as long as you are comfortable but I think I might like some time to sit alone with my thoughts."
She rises near silently, and walks out the same way. He needs time, and she doesn't trust herself not to misstep now if she stays. Later, she won't be able to focus at home, too busy turning his words over in her mind.
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lordoftheozarks) wrote2023-06-13 08:20 pm
no subject
He never escaped the mocking. How many times did he hear that he was a failure? Oh, how his master delighted in reminding him that those scars would always hold him back. Who would love a marred creature like him? Who would respect a vampire who couldn't stand to eat?
"It shames me that I became like him, even a fraction. I told myself I wouldn't." He failed there, too.
no subject
"Hence what you said about being better, every day."
That's his to carry along with the dead. There's no idealistic outcome where he didn't become what he did. Where circumstances are to blame. The parts of it that are his are his. She does not offer forgiveness, only understanding in the most bitter, blood soaked sense. But still, her hands are warm.
no subject
It's better that she doesn't try to dissuade him of that. He must carry this load to make sure that he never lets himself slip again. If arrogance was his downfall, then humility must be his uprising.
He gives her hand a squeeze, and then withdraws. "Thank you, Fever, for hearing me out. I do not take it lightly that you came to talk rather than to avenge. You can stay as long as you are comfortable but I think I might like some time to sit alone with my thoughts."
wrap?
She rises near silently, and walks out the same way. He needs time, and she doesn't trust herself not to misstep now if she stays. Later, she won't be able to focus at home, too busy turning his words over in her mind.