Ten years past... [Yujin repeats. Echoing those words, inconceivable as they are, is all he can think to do. To have lost her flesh and blood is injury enough, but to have done so unknowingly-- for ten years?
He holds his years of grief close. The pain, though dulled now, is its own memorial to the people he's loved and lost more than a decade ago now. Being robbed of those is unthinkable to him. Immediately, that pang of sympathy for her deepens.
Yujin rests a gentle hand upon her arm. First:] I'm sorry, Helen. You deserved to have known far sooner.
[And after a moment to let those words rest:] Would you like to do something, in their memory?
γ her eyes slant to the touch on her arm. overly familiar, presumptuous…and a kindness she has scarcely received in the past decade. she wants to slap him away; she wants to take his hand.
in the end, helen does neither. drawing her veil closer around her, she draws in another trembling breath. γ
I must. Far as I am, the proper rites must be observed.
γ there will be games, a sacrifice. there will be wine and stories. her brothers' names will be known and remembered. but tonight…tonight—
her voice breaks. γ Is it selfishness to wish this night to only mourn?
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He holds his years of grief close. The pain, though dulled now, is its own memorial to the people he's loved and lost more than a decade ago now. Being robbed of those is unthinkable to him. Immediately, that pang of sympathy for her deepens.
Yujin rests a gentle hand upon her arm. First:] I'm sorry, Helen. You deserved to have known far sooner.
[And after a moment to let those words rest:] Would you like to do something, in their memory?
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in the end, helen does neither. drawing her veil closer around her, she draws in another trembling breath. γ
I must. Far as I am, the proper rites must be observed.
γ there will be games, a sacrifice. there will be wine and stories. her brothers' names will be known and remembered. but tonight…tonight—
her voice breaks. γ Is it selfishness to wish this night to only mourn?