[Of course, he would think that Mythos should be above such petty emotions like loss. He is to be the lord's vessel, a being of pure reason, it isn't he who should be hindered by these fragile and flawed emotions that lead mankind to their doom.
He does not say this, of course. Instead, choosing to play the part he's dedicated himself to this morning as he takes a drink of his coffee. It is black, no sugar or anything added, he does not require it. Even if he were to play to his "tastes", they would align with this anyway.]
Though perhaps some space might serve you both. You ever did find clarity upon the sea—wind in your hair, the land and your troubles left behind.
[He looks into the dark pool of his coffee cup, a slight upward pull at the corner of his mouth. He looks like a man reminiscing on the past—one that carries some measure of fondness within him.]
However, usually, I was left to that selfsame fate, as was necessary for your missions.
I suppose I can't. I'm not enough, by myself, anyway. I can't fix everything.
[He never was good at talking about feelings either. All of his advice had been about as useful as a glass helmet. He shakes his head, moving on from that moment.]
Is that so? You could have stowed away. What would I have done, complain? [Cid chuckles, picking at the fish and the warm bread. ]
I think I might like that, to wake to the sea breeze. Next to you. For a little while, 'til Sleipnir gets sick of me.
Where was that humility when you left Waloed? So certain you could save the world all by yourself.
[His voice doesn't hold any contempt in it, in fact, it sounds almost fond despite it's usual level and deadened tone.]
Still, as inviting as the descent from King to stowaway is, it would not have worked. At least, not all the time. Nor have your complaints ever stopped me. It was but a matter of duty to Waloed.
[To Ultima, really. Though he won't touch on that this morning. As he takes another drink of his coffee, he looks to his porridge and decides he should probably eat it. No point in wasting the prop for this little production of theirs.]
Nevertheless, I doubt Sleipnir will take issue with you. For all he blusters, I am certain he misses your company.
Too little too late, as most things are. It's all that was left when I bled out, I think. Everything was finally so clear.
[He finds his way around the platter, choosing with his heart and stomach, face lighting up with joy and excitement as he finds morsels and combines different things into lovely little bites.]
Is that right? Always found him a little hard to read. That's right, what do you make of Dion's apparent capture of him?
[Silently he nods to the first bit. There isn't much to say that wouldn't just ruin this moment they've captured. So, he just lets the bit about Cid's foresight, or lack thereof, being his downfall die off as he had. Focusing then his attention on a slice of bread, helping himself to the butter and scallions.
He glances up at Cid as if he's asked him something truly ridiculous.]
If it puts the prince at ease, who am I to criticize their little game? Sleipnir seems unbothered.
Does it? Put him at ease, that is? I suppose it must, to some degree... They've got Joshua too, now. Neither of them have ever been on their own. I get the sense that Sleipnir cares for them, though. Sleipnir not minding is a little surprising to me, actually. He never tolerated spoiled behavior well, right? So what does Sleipnir tell you about Dion, anyway?
[Cid is having too much fun gossiping, at must is plain to see. He mirrors Barnabas' actions, having the bread the way he likes it.]
I cannot imagine why else he would continue to endure Sleipnir's presence. Perhaps they have a budding fondness—Sleipnir has more than enough experience dealing with young men who can barely wipe their own chins.
[As he says this, he gives Cid a pointed look. After all, Sleipnir had a hand in helping him adjust to the castle life, didn't he? When he was but a scrappy lad of eighteen, wandering Ash as nothing more than a sellsword before Ramuh awoke within him and earned Barnabas' notice. A memory that has almost been blotted out of the fondness he once held for it by the aether that floods him...almost.
After taking another bite of the bread, his eyebrows tick upward ever so slightly at the question. His gaze still on Cid's face.]
Little of interest. Mostly that the boy harbors a fondness for you. Chasing youth through these young men, are we?
[He sighs about Dion’s fondness for him. It’s true, but it is a little bitter… Considering that night Dion found Barnabas’ hair in his pillow. It’s a little complicated with Dion.]
You’d know, wouldn’t you? I was a young man, once. You loved that I could keep up with you. Tire you out, even.
[He butters bread and smirks at the other man.]
I can’t say I want to be twenty again, but I miss those days, too.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
levindicated) wrote2018-09-14 04:07 pm
no subject
[Of course, he would think that Mythos should be above such petty emotions like loss. He is to be the lord's vessel, a being of pure reason, it isn't he who should be hindered by these fragile and flawed emotions that lead mankind to their doom.
He does not say this, of course. Instead, choosing to play the part he's dedicated himself to this morning as he takes a drink of his coffee. It is black, no sugar or anything added, he does not require it. Even if he were to play to his "tastes", they would align with this anyway.]
Though perhaps some space might serve you both. You ever did find clarity upon the sea—wind in your hair, the land and your troubles left behind.
[He looks into the dark pool of his coffee cup, a slight upward pull at the corner of his mouth. He looks like a man reminiscing on the past—one that carries some measure of fondness within him.]
However, usually, I was left to that selfsame fate, as was necessary for your missions.
no subject
[He never was good at talking about feelings either. All of his advice had been about as useful as a glass helmet. He shakes his head, moving on from that moment.]
Is that so? You could have stowed away. What would I have done, complain? [Cid chuckles, picking at the fish and the warm bread. ]
I think I might like that, to wake to the sea breeze. Next to you. For a little while, 'til Sleipnir gets sick of me.
no subject
[His voice doesn't hold any contempt in it, in fact, it sounds almost fond despite it's usual level and deadened tone.]
Still, as inviting as the descent from King to stowaway is, it would not have worked. At least, not all the time. Nor have your complaints ever stopped me. It was but a matter of duty to Waloed.
[To Ultima, really. Though he won't touch on that this morning. As he takes another drink of his coffee, he looks to his porridge and decides he should probably eat it. No point in wasting the prop for this little production of theirs.]
Nevertheless, I doubt Sleipnir will take issue with you. For all he blusters, I am certain he misses your company.
no subject
[He finds his way around the platter, choosing with his heart and stomach, face lighting up with joy and excitement as he finds morsels and combines different things into lovely little bites.]
Is that right? Always found him a little hard to read. That's right, what do you make of Dion's apparent capture of him?
no subject
He glances up at Cid as if he's asked him something truly ridiculous.]
If it puts the prince at ease, who am I to criticize their little game? Sleipnir seems unbothered.
no subject
[Cid is having too much fun gossiping, at must is plain to see. He mirrors Barnabas' actions, having the bread the way he likes it.]
no subject
[As he says this, he gives Cid a pointed look. After all, Sleipnir had a hand in helping him adjust to the castle life, didn't he? When he was but a scrappy lad of eighteen, wandering Ash as nothing more than a sellsword before Ramuh awoke within him and earned Barnabas' notice. A memory that has almost been blotted out of the fondness he once held for it by the aether that floods him...almost.
After taking another bite of the bread, his eyebrows tick upward ever so slightly at the question. His gaze still on Cid's face.]
Little of interest. Mostly that the boy harbors a fondness for you. Chasing youth through these young men, are we?
no subject
You’d know, wouldn’t you? I was a young man, once. You loved that I could keep up with you. Tire you out, even.
[He butters bread and smirks at the other man.]
I can’t say I want to be twenty again, but I miss those days, too.