[his eyes flicker and for a long time, he doesn't say anything at all. It's a strange echo blow against the inside of his soul and his own eyes find and focus on the sky as he lets it reverberate. A step outside of that, his mind careful adds more pieces to the growing puzzle she's given him, fitting them to ragged half finished parts from previous.]
I'm sorry.
[it's not apology or conciliatory. He knows from experience that there are no words that can ever encompass or soothe losing your home, your entire world at the time. And, unlike him, he thinks the wound is still raw for her - will always be raw for her. Voice low, he asks:]
Was it the same thing that almost destroyed this world?
no subject
I'm sorry.
[it's not apology or conciliatory. He knows from experience that there are no words that can ever encompass or soothe losing your home, your entire world at the time. And, unlike him, he thinks the wound is still raw for her - will always be raw for her. Voice low, he asks:]
Was it the same thing that almost destroyed this world?