03-16-2019, 10:55 AM
We got older and I should have known
that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
Ah, and there it is. So strongly Sylvan-raised, she has adapted (with or without her wanting to do so, with or without her knowing), she could not sound more like her father right there and then. If they’d talked more, the roan is certain Arthas would have told him the very same thing. About being strong, never showing any kind of emotional side. The truth that Leilan had found though, was that is wasn’t always like that. That being stoic all the time made a leader look like an unreachable statue, someone they could not confide in - and in the end, someone they could not entirely trust. ”I have a different opinion, but I doubt I could explain it to you when I couldn’t to your dad.” A grin, and then small shrug follows. She might not get it, why he even showed up at the funeral (although it was at the last moment, but then, the scaled stud would definitely have advised against going to the fairies with Arthas’... request.
The draft-bred male looks the Andalusian hybrid over. She seems to be too curious perhaps, insisting he tells her his deepest darkest secrets because she could not tell anyone about them. ”Of course you could, but that’s not why I’m not telling you.” Slowly healing, having been pressed with his nose upon the facts, he knows that she’s not the one he wants to talk to. Oddly enough, it’s his mother who has been avoiding him (and he her), whose attention he really needs. If that doesn’t work, there’s still his wife.
But the thoughts do lead him to another question. He wonders now how much he and Arthas had been alike, and the point of all of it is to learn from it if she wants to answer where he did not.
”Can you tell me a little bit about your father? Did you like him?” Leilan doesn’t ask if she loves him; unconditional love between parent and child is assumed, but even if it wasn’t there, to him love and being liked are different things, especially since what happened between himself and his eldest. She would not have liked his actions.
And now he wonders if Mary and Arthas have gone through the same thing, on a way. (Probably less fiery, as he knows that both he and Chryseis practically had exploded.)
The draft-bred male looks the Andalusian hybrid over. She seems to be too curious perhaps, insisting he tells her his deepest darkest secrets because she could not tell anyone about them. ”Of course you could, but that’s not why I’m not telling you.” Slowly healing, having been pressed with his nose upon the facts, he knows that she’s not the one he wants to talk to. Oddly enough, it’s his mother who has been avoiding him (and he her), whose attention he really needs. If that doesn’t work, there’s still his wife.
But the thoughts do lead him to another question. He wonders now how much he and Arthas had been alike, and the point of all of it is to learn from it if she wants to answer where he did not.
”Can you tell me a little bit about your father? Did you like him?” Leilan doesn’t ask if she loves him; unconditional love between parent and child is assumed, but even if it wasn’t there, to him love and being liked are different things, especially since what happened between himself and his eldest. She would not have liked his actions.
And now he wonders if Mary and Arthas have gone through the same thing, on a way. (Probably less fiery, as he knows that both he and Chryseis practically had exploded.)
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Mary]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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