[ his head feels heavy in his hands, his entire body a sluggish weight that pulls down, down, down, and aymeric would love nothing more than to retreat, to climb into his bed and trap himself beneath the darkness of the covers to lick his wounds in peace.
estinien is right, he knows, objectively, when it comes to the matter of haurchefant. what the young lord had done had been on his own terms, it was his choice to risk himself in defense of what he believes in, and yet aymeric cannot shake the guilt. he's not certain that he shall ever entirely forgive himself for it, but that is the hard truth of commanding men in a land at war. this is not the first man he has watched give his life for ishgard, nor shall it be the last, but it is perhaps the most personal. ]
I know.
[ the words are breathless as a defeat; part of doing what it is that he does is learning what is necessary to carry around, and what is not, and though the wound is still fresh he knows he cannot afford himself the time to mope about like a maid, lest he abandon ishgard at her time of need. the matter of his father, however.. breaches a topic that is delicate to them both. aymeric knows full well about estinien's past, about how sensitive the subject of family might be to either one of them; this is an argument he's not certain he has the energy to breach. he's worked so long and so hard for his father's approval, that he might somehow achieve something he might find worthwhile, that some connection might be had between he and the man who did not want him, yet was too merciful to see him put down.
he can't argue it. not now. the wound is still too fresh. aymeric at last sits back in his chair with a heavy sigh, one hand slipping to gently finger a spot of soreness at his ribs. his voice is at last beginning to even out, though there is a weariness there now that drags at his words. ]
Azys Lla.. [ he sounds the words as if he is feeling them on his tongue. ] I feel I have heard the words before, though I cannot say where..
no subject
estinien is right, he knows, objectively, when it comes to the matter of haurchefant. what the young lord had done had been on his own terms, it was his choice to risk himself in defense of what he believes in, and yet aymeric cannot shake the guilt. he's not certain that he shall ever entirely forgive himself for it, but that is the hard truth of commanding men in a land at war. this is not the first man he has watched give his life for ishgard, nor shall it be the last, but it is perhaps the most personal. ]
I know.
[ the words are breathless as a defeat; part of doing what it is that he does is learning what is necessary to carry around, and what is not, and though the wound is still fresh he knows he cannot afford himself the time to mope about like a maid, lest he abandon ishgard at her time of need. the matter of his father, however.. breaches a topic that is delicate to them both. aymeric knows full well about estinien's past, about how sensitive the subject of family might be to either one of them; this is an argument he's not certain he has the energy to breach. he's worked so long and so hard for his father's approval, that he might somehow achieve something he might find worthwhile, that some connection might be had between he and the man who did not want him, yet was too merciful to see him put down.
he can't argue it. not now. the wound is still too fresh. aymeric at last sits back in his chair with a heavy sigh, one hand slipping to gently finger a spot of soreness at his ribs. his voice is at last beginning to even out, though there is a weariness there now that drags at his words. ]
Azys Lla.. [ he sounds the words as if he is feeling them on his tongue. ] I feel I have heard the words before, though I cannot say where..