The sight arrests her in her tracks. Her heart thuds a little faster. Yet she strides forward, making no moves to be silent about it. Calling out before she gets into swinging range, in case he's that badly on edge.]
Strohl.
[And when she comes even with him, if he doesn't make any moves to back away or brush her off, her hand will come to his shoulder.]
Strohl. Don't make the mistake of blaming yourself.
[ he does not lift his sword again! it seems that the fury and grief was packed into that single swipe, at least for now -- as rosamund gets closer, she'll see he's breathing hard, and even more so, she'll see his hands wrapped white-knuckled around his greatsword's handle, are trembling.
he knows she's there when he's in her peripherial, dimly, and he doesn't attack or swing or anything like it. in fact, his head just comes up to look at her when she says that, looking -- almost surprised? rosamund can see now that he's been crying, tears streaked hot down his face. ]
Hah. [ the noise is bitter, sharp. it's too late for that.
the text from the tattoo shifts, melding around his shoulder. promise breaker. ]
Rosamund will step in a little closer. Put her other hand over the white knuckle grip on his blade, shaking her head.]
Stop. It's not true. [Promise breaker. As if there was any fighting the enchanted sleep that took hold of them all once night fell.] You know it's outside of our control. No matter how much we want to believe otherwise.
You didn't break any promise, and you didn't fail anyone. It's not your fault at all.
[ you remember how taair was sad but like calm normal sad about dead people and rondo was a wreck 80% of the time well guess what we're back to the latter again babey
he doesn't stop her from coming in closer, nor does he do anything about the hand. he is tense, and as rosamund will notice when she touches his hand, he's trembling, shaking with rage and fury and grief from head to toe. ]
You don't understand. [ his voice is low and rough in his chest, sandpaper, grit, broken glass. it's taking abject effort not to scream again, not to snap at rosamund - he's trying to hold it together, trying to grip the edges of his temper when it feels like everything's gone dark. his explanation comes out hoarse and cracked. ] It's the second time, the second time. Just like this. Injured and all.
[ and just like then, she'd slipped from his grasp. just like then, he'd failed to protect her. like he always does. couldn't stop her dying the first time. couldn't bring her to euchronia, like they'd planned. couldn't - couldn't stop her from facing the same damn fate. ]
Her eyes flick between his. She's already teary eyed, was tempering her own emotions, but seeing the extremity of his makes it a little easier. One of them has to keep a calmer head.]
...I understand. [Her lips thin. She shifts her hand on his shoulder a little, letting the thumb rub soft into the fabric, the muscle beneath. She lets his sword hand go to press a hand to her own chest as she speaks.] It's not fair. And it seems like something you should be able to stop. For it to happen the same way as last time...it won't feel like anything but an insult. A failure on your part.
But Strohl, the only way you could have been awake to protect her, is if you were marked for death too. Or worse, being made to kill.
This isn't something that falls on your shoulders. It's a power beyond what any of us can fight. [Her eyes, still reddened from tears, harden suddenly. Her voice sharpens.] Not yet.
Tomorrow, we can do our best to find out what happened. And in a matter of weeks, we will find the ones who put us here. And we'll make them pay.
[ it is a failure on his part, he wants to argue. it is. when someone turns their face into your shoulder and cries on you, terrified and unable to show it to anyone else - trusting you with their back, literally and metaphorically, and they're dead the next day, have you done anything worth what they asked of you? when you desperately want to help someone, when you want to pull her free of the nightmare she's in at home, want to give her a chance at a new life, only to have that snatched away before you can blink, what do you do but fail?
it's beyond on his shoulders. he doesn't argue it out loud - the tattoo's ink melds over his shoulder as if in response, under rosamund's thumb, smaller but no less stark. promise breaker, and out of his mouth before he ever thinks about it, he snaps - ] Better me than her!
[ - because he never thinks when he's angry like this, but maybe it's an outburst enough. he clenches his teeth. sucks in a breath. tomorrow. tomorrow, during that farce of a trial that they're forced to jingle through for someone's entertainment, for someone who claimed they didn't do enough before. he sucks a breath in, and falls silent. listening. he is listening - she'll feel him twitch under her hand.
we'll make them pay. familiar. louis, the unaffected tone of his voice. it's a shame what happened, but their sacrifice was for the greater good. strohl's no stranger to vengeance; all he's done feels like chase it. ]
...I'm going to burn this place to the ground. [ he says, eventually. fierce, angry, but lower now. a cataclysmic fire brought to the size of a simmer, with no less heat for it. ]
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no subject
The sight arrests her in her tracks. Her heart thuds a little faster. Yet she strides forward, making no moves to be silent about it. Calling out before she gets into swinging range, in case he's that badly on edge.]
Strohl.
[And when she comes even with him, if he doesn't make any moves to back away or brush her off, her hand will come to his shoulder.]
Strohl. Don't make the mistake of blaming yourself.
no subject
he knows she's there when he's in her peripherial, dimly, and he doesn't attack or swing or anything like it. in fact, his head just comes up to look at her when she says that, looking -- almost surprised? rosamund can see now that he's been crying, tears streaked hot down his face. ]
Hah. [ the noise is bitter, sharp. it's too late for that.
the text from the tattoo shifts, melding around his shoulder. promise breaker. ]
no subject
Rosamund will step in a little closer. Put her other hand over the white knuckle grip on his blade, shaking her head.]
Stop. It's not true. [Promise breaker. As if there was any fighting the enchanted sleep that took hold of them all once night fell.] You know it's outside of our control. No matter how much we want to believe otherwise.
You didn't break any promise, and you didn't fail anyone. It's not your fault at all.
no subject
he doesn't stop her from coming in closer, nor does he do anything about the hand. he is tense, and as rosamund will notice when she touches his hand, he's trembling, shaking with rage and fury and grief from head to toe. ]
You don't understand. [ his voice is low and rough in his chest, sandpaper, grit, broken glass. it's taking abject effort not to scream again, not to snap at rosamund - he's trying to hold it together, trying to grip the edges of his temper when it feels like everything's gone dark. his explanation comes out hoarse and cracked. ] It's the second time, the second time. Just like this. Injured and all.
[ and just like then, she'd slipped from his grasp. just like then, he'd failed to protect her. like he always does. couldn't stop her dying the first time. couldn't bring her to euchronia, like they'd planned. couldn't - couldn't stop her from facing the same damn fate. ]
no subject
Her eyes flick between his. She's already teary eyed, was tempering her own emotions, but seeing the extremity of his makes it a little easier. One of them has to keep a calmer head.]
...I understand. [Her lips thin. She shifts her hand on his shoulder a little, letting the thumb rub soft into the fabric, the muscle beneath. She lets his sword hand go to press a hand to her own chest as she speaks.] It's not fair. And it seems like something you should be able to stop. For it to happen the same way as last time...it won't feel like anything but an insult. A failure on your part.
But Strohl, the only way you could have been awake to protect her, is if you were marked for death too. Or worse, being made to kill.
This isn't something that falls on your shoulders. It's a power beyond what any of us can fight. [Her eyes, still reddened from tears, harden suddenly. Her voice sharpens.] Not yet.
Tomorrow, we can do our best to find out what happened. And in a matter of weeks, we will find the ones who put us here. And we'll make them pay.
no subject
it's beyond on his shoulders. he doesn't argue it out loud - the tattoo's ink melds over his shoulder as if in response, under rosamund's thumb, smaller but no less stark. promise breaker, and out of his mouth before he ever thinks about it, he snaps - ] Better me than her!
[ - because he never thinks when he's angry like this, but maybe it's an outburst enough. he clenches his teeth. sucks in a breath. tomorrow. tomorrow, during that farce of a trial that they're forced to jingle through for someone's entertainment, for someone who claimed they didn't do enough before. he sucks a breath in, and falls silent. listening. he is listening - she'll feel him twitch under her hand.
we'll make them pay. familiar. louis, the unaffected tone of his voice. it's a shame what happened, but their sacrifice was for the greater good. strohl's no stranger to vengeance; all he's done feels like chase it. ]
...I'm going to burn this place to the ground. [ he says, eventually. fierce, angry, but lower now. a cataclysmic fire brought to the size of a simmer, with no less heat for it. ]