[ There's a long moment where Six doesn't say anything, the silence drawn out and a little awkward. There's an edge of something that tastes like panic on her tongue, but she swallows it back and turns instead for the bundled up greatsword hilt, drawing it close and stroking her fingers over the fabric. ]
He was the man who thought that I would make a good Paladin. He began to train me and we spent almost two years together. I think I loved him... And he loved me.
❰ protracted silence is not adalia's favourite thing in the world, and she shifts uncomfortably as she waits for six to decide what she wants to say, tapping her foot lightly against the ground, waiting —
the tapping stops when six pushes the bundle in her hands towards adalia. she looks from the broken sword to six, and her heart breaks for her sister. ❱
I'm so sorry, ❰ she says, genuine, voice soft. ❱ I don't want to pry. If you don't want to explain anything more, you don't have to.
[ Six shakes her head, slow and sure as she gazes at the broken hilt. Who has she had to talk about these things with? Herself and Sarenrae, and a God can only listen to so many prayers. Reaching out, her fingers brush over the blade and she closes her eyes, summoning her own courage. ]
I am going to take this blade and find his family. Then I can bury it where his body could not go. That is my duty, now.
[ She had accepted her Oath, had devoted herself to Sarenrae, but her first quest, her first true mission as a Paladin proper was to put Adrian to rest. When she closes her eyes all she can picture is the broken body in front of her, her own fingers clawing in the mud and dirt and blood, her throat hoarse with the screams and tears that she couldn't keep back. ]
We... We agreed that we would wait to do anything until my training was complete. That was not... It was not meant to be.
❰ and here adalia was thinking this story couldn't get more sad. she's avoided thinking about the things the lyrium flu told them about what rifters are, unwilling to deal with the truth of their state here, but it's impossible to ignore it, with six talking about her duty:
they are spirits, or something like them. they aren't going home, even if they disappear from thedas, as so many rifters have. they will disappear back into the fade, and whoever they were in toril, whether that was even real — those lives will be lived as though they had never appeared in thedas at all. six, this six, will never complete her duty.
is it kinder to tell her that, or to let her believe that she could carry out her duty one day? the memory of six's sobbing as she hacks uselessly at a training dummy tells adalia all she needs to know about that question. she's lost enough. adalia won't take her duty from her too. she takes six's hands again, locking eyes with her, sincerity practically bleeding from her pores. ❱
When we get back to Toril, I hope we find each other. I hope I can help you fulfill that duty.
[ 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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He was the man who thought that I would make a good Paladin. He began to train me and we spent almost two years together. I think I loved him... And he loved me.
[ She pushes the bundle towards Adalia. ]
He died.
no subject
the tapping stops when six pushes the bundle in her hands towards adalia. she looks from the broken sword to six, and her heart breaks for her sister. ❱
I'm so sorry, ❰ she says, genuine, voice soft. ❱ I don't want to pry. If you don't want to explain anything more, you don't have to.
no subject
I am going to take this blade and find his family. Then I can bury it where his body could not go. That is my duty, now.
[ She had accepted her Oath, had devoted herself to Sarenrae, but her first quest, her first true mission as a Paladin proper was to put Adrian to rest. When she closes her eyes all she can picture is the broken body in front of her, her own fingers clawing in the mud and dirt and blood, her throat hoarse with the screams and tears that she couldn't keep back. ]
We... We agreed that we would wait to do anything until my training was complete. That was not... It was not meant to be.
no subject
they are spirits, or something like them. they aren't going home, even if they disappear from thedas, as so many rifters have. they will disappear back into the fade, and whoever they were in toril, whether that was even real — those lives will be lived as though they had never appeared in thedas at all. six, this six, will never complete her duty.
is it kinder to tell her that, or to let her believe that she could carry out her duty one day? the memory of six's sobbing as she hacks uselessly at a training dummy tells adalia all she needs to know about that question. she's lost enough. adalia won't take her duty from her too. she takes six's hands again, locking eyes with her, sincerity practically bleeding from her pores. ❱
When we get back to Toril, I hope we find each other. I hope I can help you fulfill that duty.
no subject
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.