[There's a reply just waiting to get spewed out about that, about children playing at understanding the true consequences of actions taken or the scope of suffering that his people will go through. Are going through, while Aleksander spends his days and nights in space.
How he will change all of it, and they will all l-- thank him for it.
It sits, like a barbed hook in his throat as he flexes his hands in his lap, to hiss out the truth about what happens in Ravka, about the tragedy and the fates of saints, when
Wuxian's face swims through his memory, mouth shaped in to a sad smile and his voice, low and intimate and contained inside the embrace they're in - love fiercely, he said, eyes so alive with it, despite his own shadowy history. The dark mirror to Aleksander's own life. Teach others to make beautiful music, the enchanting notes that Aleksander himself had listened to, mind drifting with pleasant memories on the station and snowflakes melting in their hair.
The sudden shift makes him frown, eyebrows drawing together as he watches Chishiaya without seeing him, not completely. He sees...
Self-pity, he called it, and Aleksander wants to disagree, vehemently.
Half a sheet in the wind already, and he doesn't. He can almost see the choices before him, and this time, he lets it go. He's not the same man who stumbled off the platform years ago, there had been (names, faces, hands reaching for his in the dark and the warmth of them)]
You are very annoying.
[His heart isn't in it, it's still off somewhere, a little lost in brown eyes and soft hands, it's still beating in all the moments he's experienced since stepping on to the station, it thrums in the remembered silence and in the roaring heat of battle. It isn't here, watching Chishiya be so very human and so very irritating. It's with Finn, in the cooling sands of Scorpion's Bend, it's with Daisy and the garish orange outfits.
It's with Jim in a forest, his own body twisted and buckling with pain and the kindness that is offered without expectations. It beats with Peter in a hut in a world that never existed, listening to alien music, churning butter. With Yennefer, and her teasing smile and flicking chaotic light. With Wuxian, under water and dripping with it on a town square and in the soft moments in a dance.
Before, Ivan and his deadpan voice commenting on the duchess of something-or-other, Zoya and her challenging grin before she pounced in training. On and on, glimpses of memories like stars in a black sky, as he blinks back to this. To now.]
Thank you, for... that. Perhaps we should stick to talking about the weather.
no subject
How he will change all of it, and they will all l-- thank him for it.
It sits, like a barbed hook in his throat as he flexes his hands in his lap, to hiss out the truth about what happens in Ravka, about the tragedy and the fates of saints, when
Wuxian's face swims through his memory, mouth shaped in to a sad smile and his voice, low and intimate and contained inside the embrace they're in - love fiercely, he said, eyes so alive with it, despite his own shadowy history. The dark mirror to Aleksander's own life. Teach others to make beautiful music, the enchanting notes that Aleksander himself had listened to, mind drifting with pleasant memories on the station and snowflakes melting in their hair.
The sudden shift makes him frown, eyebrows drawing together as he watches Chishiaya without seeing him, not completely. He sees...
Self-pity, he called it, and Aleksander wants to disagree, vehemently.
Half a sheet in the wind already, and he doesn't. He can almost see the choices before him, and this time, he lets it go. He's not the same man who stumbled off the platform years ago, there had been (names, faces, hands reaching for his in the dark and the warmth of them)]
You are very annoying.
[His heart isn't in it, it's still off somewhere, a little lost in brown eyes and soft hands, it's still beating in all the moments he's experienced since stepping on to the station, it thrums in the remembered silence and in the roaring heat of battle. It isn't here, watching Chishiya be so very human and so very irritating. It's with Finn, in the cooling sands of Scorpion's Bend, it's with Daisy and the garish orange outfits.
It's with Jim in a forest, his own body twisted and buckling with pain and the kindness that is offered without expectations. It beats with Peter in a hut in a world that never existed, listening to alien music, churning butter. With Yennefer, and her teasing smile and flicking chaotic light. With Wuxian, under water and dripping with it on a town square and in the soft moments in a dance.
Before, Ivan and his deadpan voice commenting on the duchess of something-or-other, Zoya and her challenging grin before she pounced in training. On and on, glimpses of memories like stars in a black sky, as he blinks back to this. To now.]
Thank you, for... that. Perhaps we should stick to talking about the weather.