[ Despite it all, Trahearne does care. A lot. As marshal, he had the option of never dealing with any of the grieving family himself; he could have easily delegated the task to his subordinates and they would have been honored to do so. But he didn't. He was always there, mindful of other races' rituals in death, careful that those who were receptive to his condolences got the care they needed. He didn't have to personally travel all the way to Hoelbrak to see that a minor Vigil officer was given the proper send-off in her homelands, but he did. In his role, he was painfully aware of the weight of all of his decisions had, and the lives they would cost, which made him feel all the more obligated.
In a way, he's been treating his friends in much the same way. Perhaps he and Ori are willing to do the very same--shoulder the burdens of the rest--but it comes from different places. And perhaps, in her eyes, it comes across harshly.
His roiling thoughts are quieted as she speaks, and the guilt is only hammered home when she says her final statement. ]
I know.
[ He says this quietly. All things considered, he is proud of her--and by extension, Diluc--for taking their loss in stride. He hadn't even noticed something was wrong. Should he have noticed? Should he have done more for them? He realizes now, that if either of them had turned as well, he would most certainly blaming himself for it.
And under normal circumstances, he would be sympathetic, willing to offer her a comforting ear, or even a hug. But this isn't a normal circumstance. For some reason, it only sparks irritation in him.
Why? What is he even angry about? Is he frustrated? Or just tired? As he sits with his thoughts for a moment, a sick, nauseating feeling settles in his stomach. It's not any of these. It's the ugliest sides to his personality--jealousy. Envy. Selfishness.
At least he has enough wits about him to realize he may snap at her again if this conversation continues. So he reaches out to carefully close the box of cookies, cradles it, and slowly stands. With unsteady steps he makes his way to the opposite side of the room, placing it back on its spot on the counter.
His back to her, he plants his elbows onto the surface and rubs his face in his hands. ]
I'm sorry, Ori. I don't want to talk about this anymore.
no subject
In a way, he's been treating his friends in much the same way. Perhaps he and Ori are willing to do the very same--shoulder the burdens of the rest--but it comes from different places. And perhaps, in her eyes, it comes across harshly.
His roiling thoughts are quieted as she speaks, and the guilt is only hammered home when she says her final statement. ]
I know.
[ He says this quietly. All things considered, he is proud of her--and by extension, Diluc--for taking their loss in stride. He hadn't even noticed something was wrong. Should he have noticed? Should he have done more for them? He realizes now, that if either of them had turned as well, he would most certainly blaming himself for it.
And under normal circumstances, he would be sympathetic, willing to offer her a comforting ear, or even a hug. But this isn't a normal circumstance. For some reason, it only sparks irritation in him.
Why? What is he even angry about? Is he frustrated? Or just tired? As he sits with his thoughts for a moment, a sick, nauseating feeling settles in his stomach. It's not any of these. It's the ugliest sides to his personality--jealousy. Envy. Selfishness.
At least he has enough wits about him to realize he may snap at her again if this conversation continues. So he reaches out to carefully close the box of cookies, cradles it, and slowly stands. With unsteady steps he makes his way to the opposite side of the room, placing it back on its spot on the counter.
His back to her, he plants his elbows onto the surface and rubs his face in his hands. ]
I'm sorry, Ori. I don't want to talk about this anymore.