04-10-2024, 10:53 AM
Guilt and grief are rather foreign concepts to Doctor.
Indeed, perhaps he feels some guilt for his actions in the past, but his darkened heart has steeled him against such an emotion. When she speaks of these feelings, he does not share in them. He has never experienced a loss like hers and presumes that this is the reason he cannot relate to her sorrow. After all, he’s never even met his only son, nor is he truly aware of his existence; he doesn’t know the bonds of parent and child.
He is glad, therefore, that she moves past the topic rather easily. She refutes the notion that she is a hero, at which Doctor only shifts his weight and looks out across the Meadow again. “I don’t know whether the phoenix in the tales believed itself to be a hero either,” he muses thoughtfully, shaking his mane and lowering his head again to rub at the dried blood still smattering his face. He begins moving again, directing his path toward the small river that runs through the land.
“It would seem to me that the best sort of hero is an unlikely one,” he goes on as they walk. “Those who claim to be one seem too often to find themselves harboring more ill intents than pure.” He snorts slightly at his own words, a smoky exhale in the fresh air. Their conversation has turned a bit more philosophical than he’d anticipated.
“Not that it matters, but my opinion of you is that you have a good heart, Umani.” He wades into the water when they’ve reached the edge of it, relieved to see that the blood has not dried past the point of simply washing away. The stream becomes slightly muddied by it as it leaves his tarnished fur. Briefly, he dips his dark face into the water and shakes himself free of the stains upon it. “I’m sure you will make the right decisions when faced with dangerous situations,” he continues when he straightens up again.
“Perhaps the fairies will see fit to give you even more of the phoenix’s powers,” he finishes as he leaves the water.
Indeed, perhaps he feels some guilt for his actions in the past, but his darkened heart has steeled him against such an emotion. When she speaks of these feelings, he does not share in them. He has never experienced a loss like hers and presumes that this is the reason he cannot relate to her sorrow. After all, he’s never even met his only son, nor is he truly aware of his existence; he doesn’t know the bonds of parent and child.
He is glad, therefore, that she moves past the topic rather easily. She refutes the notion that she is a hero, at which Doctor only shifts his weight and looks out across the Meadow again. “I don’t know whether the phoenix in the tales believed itself to be a hero either,” he muses thoughtfully, shaking his mane and lowering his head again to rub at the dried blood still smattering his face. He begins moving again, directing his path toward the small river that runs through the land.
“It would seem to me that the best sort of hero is an unlikely one,” he goes on as they walk. “Those who claim to be one seem too often to find themselves harboring more ill intents than pure.” He snorts slightly at his own words, a smoky exhale in the fresh air. Their conversation has turned a bit more philosophical than he’d anticipated.
“Not that it matters, but my opinion of you is that you have a good heart, Umani.” He wades into the water when they’ve reached the edge of it, relieved to see that the blood has not dried past the point of simply washing away. The stream becomes slightly muddied by it as it leaves his tarnished fur. Briefly, he dips his dark face into the water and shakes himself free of the stains upon it. “I’m sure you will make the right decisions when faced with dangerous situations,” he continues when he straightens up again.
“Perhaps the fairies will see fit to give you even more of the phoenix’s powers,” he finishes as he leaves the water.
doctor
@Umani