Roen regarded Daegsatz with some measure of sympathy. While she had never heard of landsickness, she knew how queasy she felt on ships. She would not wish that ailment upon the Roegadyn; being gaoled was bad enough--another adversity she understood all too well. She absently glanced at his finished product as he examined the first parchment, although her curiosity was now tempered by her empathy for the man.
As he began to work on the second parchment, Roen put another piece of orange in her mouth. She had not talked about her father in a long time. Memories of her mother came to her easily, and sharing those moments always made her feel as if she were paying respects to the woman who raised her. But her father was a different story; it had been Dorien nan Luraes who had drove her to join the Battle at Carteneau, and it was his involvement in the Fall of Dalamud that had made her run away and adopt Eorzea as her new home. None of this she thought to ever share with anyone.
“I saw what grief can do. Losing someone you love like that. It…was easier for him to lock away what compassion he had left and throw himself into his work.†Her voice had lowered to just above a whisper, the reminiscence of her father always bringing melancholy with it, a tidal wake of bitter remembrance. “I was…unable to bring him back, then.†She stared at the stone floor. Her shoulders slumped.
“That was over six cycles ago,†Roen said after a weighted pause. With a sharp inhale, the paladin drew herself up, looking to the Sea Wolf. “I know not what became of him after the Calamity, but I know better, now, than to lose hope. If I ever saw him again…perhaps I would tell him that.â€
Roen curled a small smile, shaking her head as if to dismiss the weight her words brought with them. She leaned over towards Daegsatz, this time shamelessly watching him draw. “Is that the Second Forte?â€
As he began to work on the second parchment, Roen put another piece of orange in her mouth. She had not talked about her father in a long time. Memories of her mother came to her easily, and sharing those moments always made her feel as if she were paying respects to the woman who raised her. But her father was a different story; it had been Dorien nan Luraes who had drove her to join the Battle at Carteneau, and it was his involvement in the Fall of Dalamud that had made her run away and adopt Eorzea as her new home. None of this she thought to ever share with anyone.
“I saw what grief can do. Losing someone you love like that. It…was easier for him to lock away what compassion he had left and throw himself into his work.†Her voice had lowered to just above a whisper, the reminiscence of her father always bringing melancholy with it, a tidal wake of bitter remembrance. “I was…unable to bring him back, then.†She stared at the stone floor. Her shoulders slumped.
“That was over six cycles ago,†Roen said after a weighted pause. With a sharp inhale, the paladin drew herself up, looking to the Sea Wolf. “I know not what became of him after the Calamity, but I know better, now, than to lose hope. If I ever saw him again…perhaps I would tell him that.â€
Roen curled a small smile, shaking her head as if to dismiss the weight her words brought with them. She leaned over towards Daegsatz, this time shamelessly watching him draw. “Is that the Second Forte?â€
