[ Six's hands reach out and press over the hilt of the blade, brushing over the curve of the weapon and the heft of it. It had been a large thing, once, as big as her own but with more weight to it because Adrian had been strong enough for it. When she had been a mercenary she had picked her own greatsword - it had felt better in her hands than a shortsword or a longsword - but she had never handled hers with the effortless grace that Adrian had. He had been terrifying with it and Six had only ever hoped to come close to matching him.
It's hard, even now, for her to look down at the broken, shattered piece of her past and settle with it beside her. She's been carrying it for months now; through her own healing, with a scar on her back settling with agony, through her Oath to Sarenrae, through the beginning of travelling alone. That hadn't been too much for her - isolation was easy and familiar - but the loss of Adrian's warmth had burned through her like a brand. She feels the loss of him like the loss of a limb, a year and a half of tenderness and laughter ripped from her.
Six takes the hilt back, her fingers brushing over the pommel, her eyes damp, before she breathes out. It's hard, so hard, but she carries him with her. His body may be gone but she has stolen his spirit, his heart, and she keeps that with a possessiveness that could rival the most envious of kings. ]
If that's what you would like. [ She makes no promises. Promises hurt, now. ] He deserves to be at peace. I could not protect him, so he deserves to be at peace.
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It's hard, even now, for her to look down at the broken, shattered piece of her past and settle with it beside her. She's been carrying it for months now; through her own healing, with a scar on her back settling with agony, through her Oath to Sarenrae, through the beginning of travelling alone. That hadn't been too much for her - isolation was easy and familiar - but the loss of Adrian's warmth had burned through her like a brand. She feels the loss of him like the loss of a limb, a year and a half of tenderness and laughter ripped from her.
Six takes the hilt back, her fingers brushing over the pommel, her eyes damp, before she breathes out. It's hard, so hard, but she carries him with her. His body may be gone but she has stolen his spirit, his heart, and she keeps that with a possessiveness that could rival the most envious of kings. ]
If that's what you would like. [ She makes no promises. Promises hurt, now. ] He deserves to be at peace. I could not protect him, so he deserves to be at peace.