[He winces, knowing what she means. It wasn't so long ago that he'd forget the sentiment behind his own words. They'd been so easy to say, such a simple, firm statement of fact: that she isn't worth less, that she doesn't have to prove herself to anyone. It's easy to see her intent now, and the hypocrisy behind what he'd said to her versus what he says of himself. "The rules are different for me" wouldn't be an acceptable answer here, either. Nor does it answer the question she'd asked.
How long...?]
...I don't know.
[His mumble is reluctant, but honest. If he were to look back he can't draw a line between then and now; the "then" is nebulous, somewhere between childhood and when he'd awoken here after Bahamut handed down his fate to him and the Crystal began to drench him in its power whether he wanted it or not. He knows that the pressure at the back of his mind is newer, that presence of something big and frightful he'd mentioned to Ardyn months ago when the memories of the ring were still unexplained. He knows it seems to rouse itself more when he feels content than when he's distressed, and that's concerning but could just be a coincidence. He knows that living happily has a chance of making it harder to say goodbye to this life, and the one he'd been living back home. Maybe that's why the world becomes a hellscape while he's sleeping- fate wants to leave no chance for him to turn back.
That's... depressing, that he might be so unreliable. He closes his eyes, squashing that train of thought before he can chase it down another sinkhole he can't escape from. He's important in the grand scheme of things, but not that important.
Back to the question. How long.]
I don't know if it was ever... a thought like that. More like an instinct. Like- I know I had an easy life, most of the time. I got away with a lot I shouldn't have been able to. But I didn't get what I really wanted, either... I had to learn how to be okay with that, because there was more important stuff going on. Isn't that normal...?
no subject
[He winces, knowing what she means. It wasn't so long ago that he'd forget the sentiment behind his own words. They'd been so easy to say, such a simple, firm statement of fact: that she isn't worth less, that she doesn't have to prove herself to anyone. It's easy to see her intent now, and the hypocrisy behind what he'd said to her versus what he says of himself. "The rules are different for me" wouldn't be an acceptable answer here, either. Nor does it answer the question she'd asked.
How long...?]
...I don't know.
[His mumble is reluctant, but honest. If he were to look back he can't draw a line between then and now; the "then" is nebulous, somewhere between childhood and when he'd awoken here after Bahamut handed down his fate to him and the Crystal began to drench him in its power whether he wanted it or not. He knows that the pressure at the back of his mind is newer, that presence of something big and frightful he'd mentioned to Ardyn months ago when the memories of the ring were still unexplained. He knows it seems to rouse itself more when he feels content than when he's distressed, and that's concerning but could just be a coincidence. He knows that living happily has a chance of making it harder to say goodbye to this life, and the one he'd been living back home. Maybe that's why the world becomes a hellscape while he's sleeping- fate wants to leave no chance for him to turn back.
That's... depressing, that he might be so unreliable. He closes his eyes, squashing that train of thought before he can chase it down another sinkhole he can't escape from. He's important in the grand scheme of things, but not that important.
Back to the question. How long.]
I don't know if it was ever... a thought like that. More like an instinct. Like- I know I had an easy life, most of the time. I got away with a lot I shouldn't have been able to. But I didn't get what I really wanted, either... I had to learn how to be okay with that, because there was more important stuff going on. Isn't that normal...?