[She realizes now that perhaps the shock of plant violence is not enough to distract from the oddities involved. Rosamund is silent for a moment, calculating how best to explain.]
We had different ideas about how to change our fates. We wanted to give everyone the power to make their own choices. They thought our only option was to destroy everything.
Well...you see... [Ahem.] Rather than live out lives that were dictated by higher powers, they thought it would be better to just end everyone's suffering. That way it would never happen again.
Exactly. [She nods.] And even in their own cases, that they gave up on ever having a chance to make things better...I wanted differently for them, too.
Being placed direct in his shoes makes all the difference. Rosamund comes out shivering, pale, gulping back her own nausea. The echoes of his grief prick her skin. They rend her heart, push new tears down her face.
She looks to him, clutching at her own chest in horror. Not a word comes out of her mouth.]
[it affects him differently - he's had years of living with this truth, so he pushes himself not to react too openly beyond a short intake of breath and a stiffening in his shoulders.]
[She can see where this is going. Where this went. The mad dash within the reverie already made sense, but now the sickening guilt clicks in.
Rosamund looks to Arthur and senses a fissure form in his stiff posture, his clipped words. This is one way to respond to pain. It's probably not the only wound he has, to become so reticent as he is.
She throws prudence to the side. Rosamund approaches and winds her arms around his shoulders in a soft embrace, chin nesting at his shoulder.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Don't be. I'm all right. I've been doing just fine. I'm more sorry you had to see something so... unpleasant.
[Gruesome, more like.]
no subject
[and in such a strange place?]
no subject
[She realizes now that perhaps the shock of plant violence is not enough to distract from the oddities involved. Rosamund is silent for a moment, calculating how best to explain.]
We had different ideas about how to change our fates. We wanted to give everyone the power to make their own choices. They thought our only option was to destroy everything.
So...we had to stop them.
no subject
[lightly baffled]
no subject
Well...you see... [Ahem.] Rather than live out lives that were dictated by higher powers, they thought it would be better to just end everyone's suffering. That way it would never happen again.
no subject
no subject
no subject
[wanting something better for even the people who tried to do so much harm, he means. he's about to say something else, but then it's memory time.]
no subject
Being placed direct in his shoes makes all the difference. Rosamund comes out shivering, pale, gulping back her own nausea. The echoes of his grief prick her skin. They rend her heart, push new tears down her face.
She looks to him, clutching at her own chest in horror. Not a word comes out of her mouth.]
no subject
...My apologies. That you had to see that.
no subject
[Her head shakes. She wipes at her eyes, the shock dripping out of her in lieu of a terrible sorrow.]
Don't apologize. It was nothing of your own doing. [The vision or the murders. She's certain of it.] What happened to them?
no subject
There are... very destructive creatures where I'm from. They lost a fight with one.
no subject
[She can see where this is going. Where this went. The mad dash within the reverie already made sense, but now the sickening guilt clicks in.
Rosamund looks to Arthur and senses a fissure form in his stiff posture, his clipped words. This is one way to respond to pain. It's probably not the only wound he has, to become so reticent as he is.
She throws prudence to the side. Rosamund approaches and winds her arms around his shoulders in a soft embrace, chin nesting at his shoulder.]