“To undo errors, yes,†Kasrjin nodded, turning his head to face her. He swept away an emerald lock from his face as he did. “To learn from them...no.â€
He did not feel comfortable saying more on the matter, as a part of him understood that despite their differences, foreign as they were to one another, there was nothing he could say that she had not already said to herself regarding her regrets. He shifted his position as a glisten of a tear crept down to her knee where she had placed her head. His gaze lay fixed to the runestone in his hand, and its myriad meanings that it both held and lacked.
Did he regret travelling here here, in a land so far from his own, in a place where isolation’s dark grip clenched his heart every day? Did he regret deeming himself capable of undertaking such a daunting task?
It was one thing to be merely alone. It was another to be surrounded by strangers. Where once there had been brilliant colours--his people, with whom he could connect with--he was surrounded by naught but sleet, snow, and dull, gray hues.
To be in a world where he was not welcome. Where he did not belong. Every day was a choice to remain. Did he regret it? He did not know.
A sigh escaped his face, and sensing that she could not see it, his stoic expression fell for just a moment.
Solitude was a tiresome thing.
“Why do you wish to aid me?†He asked suddenly, tracing the pattern on the runestone again. A part of him yearned for the burst of warmth that the trinket could no longer provide. He could not help but wonder if her aiding him was some expression of her past regret. But if it was, did he care? Should he?
No, he didn't, at least at the moment. He had offered to hear her out on her crisis of faith because he was interested in gaining some insight to the Western continent’s beliefs.
The confused frown crossed his face.
He did not feel comfortable saying more on the matter, as a part of him understood that despite their differences, foreign as they were to one another, there was nothing he could say that she had not already said to herself regarding her regrets. He shifted his position as a glisten of a tear crept down to her knee where she had placed her head. His gaze lay fixed to the runestone in his hand, and its myriad meanings that it both held and lacked.
Did he regret travelling here here, in a land so far from his own, in a place where isolation’s dark grip clenched his heart every day? Did he regret deeming himself capable of undertaking such a daunting task?
It was one thing to be merely alone. It was another to be surrounded by strangers. Where once there had been brilliant colours--his people, with whom he could connect with--he was surrounded by naught but sleet, snow, and dull, gray hues.
To be in a world where he was not welcome. Where he did not belong. Every day was a choice to remain. Did he regret it? He did not know.
A sigh escaped his face, and sensing that she could not see it, his stoic expression fell for just a moment.
Solitude was a tiresome thing.
“Why do you wish to aid me?†He asked suddenly, tracing the pattern on the runestone again. A part of him yearned for the burst of warmth that the trinket could no longer provide. He could not help but wonder if her aiding him was some expression of her past regret. But if it was, did he care? Should he?
No, he didn't, at least at the moment. He had offered to hear her out on her crisis of faith because he was interested in gaining some insight to the Western continent’s beliefs.
The confused frown crossed his face.
