[ Perhaps it is merely his body reacting to the pain radiating from the area she is working on, but the passage of time seems to be acting oddly. Of course he knows where he is: inside his family home, in his room with her beside him. But his mind keeps flashing back to the night of the attack, reliving scenes from that night filled with chaos and uncertainty.
It is a confusing blur of scenes that he dimly remembers, such as being carried from the street to the healers, interposed with her talking to him as she continues her ministrations. Wanting to dislodge those memories and focus on what is actually happening in the present, he shakes his head once, hoping to clear the fog swirling in his mind.
But she continues speaking, the flow of her words washing over him, and it seems as though his mind is determined to ensure he relives the moments following the attack. He cannot remember all of it with any sort of clarity, but one thing stands out to him as she continues with the stream of words. It is only in his mind, of course, but as her fingers press against the scar, even though the action is quick, it feels to him that a flame has just burst from the scarred area. The one thing he remembers clearly from that night is the moment the healers drew the knife from him, and it seems that that is what his mind has chosen to replay for him.
Instinctively, he tenses, moving to curl in on himself as if that will lessen the pain his mind is forcing him to experience again. It is not only a physical pain from the wound, but something deeper, more internal and quite personal. He has never spoken of it to anyone, but the more Alkaid speaks, the more his repressed thoughts and feelings seem to be drawn from him. But even as he wrestles with his fears and feelings, one thing still stands out to him: my love, she said. In the swirl of emotions that he is doing his best to navigate, he clings onto those words as if they are a lifeline.
His voice is low, the words hushed, but the room is relatively quiet, except for any sounds she might make and the sound of his quiet but slightly labored breathing. ]
I have never wanted anything but to protect Ishgard and her people, whatever the cost to me personally. [ She might notice the way emotion threatens to choke the words he is trying to say, but he does his best to push through and continue giving voice to what caused him fear then, and hurt as well. ] Although the healers did their work quickly and as well as anyone could hope for, I- When I was able to stand once again, I feared going before the people once more, not because I feared another attack, but because...
[ His free hand clenches into a fist, and a mist forms unbidden in his eyes that he wishes he could hide from her. ] Were my own decisions so misguided and focused on the wrong things that the people felt the better outcome was to see me removed from the leadership entirely?
[ He only did what he thought was in the best interests of the people, and although he cannot speak to the motivations of the one who attacked him, he wonders if perhaps that was not a representation of the people's thoughts as a whole. Would they rather have another in power? ]
One person may not always be representative of the thoughts of a whole, but what if that was the message they were trying to convey, and I, caught up in what I thought was the right course of action, failed to see it before? Ishgard is made up of more than simply nobles and those with vast fortunes to their names.
[ This responsibility does not land solely on him, because the delineation between the rich and the poor has existed for far longer than he has held his positions, but he cannot help but feel as the present leader, it is also a failure on his part that he has done nothing to see to the needs of everyone, noble and commoner alike. ]
no subject
It is a confusing blur of scenes that he dimly remembers, such as being carried from the street to the healers, interposed with her talking to him as she continues her ministrations. Wanting to dislodge those memories and focus on what is actually happening in the present, he shakes his head once, hoping to clear the fog swirling in his mind.
But she continues speaking, the flow of her words washing over him, and it seems as though his mind is determined to ensure he relives the moments following the attack. He cannot remember all of it with any sort of clarity, but one thing stands out to him as she continues with the stream of words. It is only in his mind, of course, but as her fingers press against the scar, even though the action is quick, it feels to him that a flame has just burst from the scarred area. The one thing he remembers clearly from that night is the moment the healers drew the knife from him, and it seems that that is what his mind has chosen to replay for him.
Instinctively, he tenses, moving to curl in on himself as if that will lessen the pain his mind is forcing him to experience again. It is not only a physical pain from the wound, but something deeper, more internal and quite personal. He has never spoken of it to anyone, but the more Alkaid speaks, the more his repressed thoughts and feelings seem to be drawn from him. But even as he wrestles with his fears and feelings, one thing still stands out to him: my love, she said. In the swirl of emotions that he is doing his best to navigate, he clings onto those words as if they are a lifeline.
His voice is low, the words hushed, but the room is relatively quiet, except for any sounds she might make and the sound of his quiet but slightly labored breathing. ]
I have never wanted anything but to protect Ishgard and her people, whatever the cost to me personally. [ She might notice the way emotion threatens to choke the words he is trying to say, but he does his best to push through and continue giving voice to what caused him fear then, and hurt as well. ] Although the healers did their work quickly and as well as anyone could hope for, I- When I was able to stand once again, I feared going before the people once more, not because I feared another attack, but because...
[ His free hand clenches into a fist, and a mist forms unbidden in his eyes that he wishes he could hide from her. ] Were my own decisions so misguided and focused on the wrong things that the people felt the better outcome was to see me removed from the leadership entirely?
[ He only did what he thought was in the best interests of the people, and although he cannot speak to the motivations of the one who attacked him, he wonders if perhaps that was not a representation of the people's thoughts as a whole. Would they rather have another in power? ]
One person may not always be representative of the thoughts of a whole, but what if that was the message they were trying to convey, and I, caught up in what I thought was the right course of action, failed to see it before? Ishgard is made up of more than simply nobles and those with vast fortunes to their names.
[ This responsibility does not land solely on him, because the delineation between the rich and the poor has existed for far longer than he has held his positions, but he cannot help but feel as the present leader, it is also a failure on his part that he has done nothing to see to the needs of everyone, noble and commoner alike. ]