It was a beautiful sounding phrase, something that just hearing it, you wished to believe in. That life was wonderful. That it was a thing they were put on the earth to enjoy, to love and live... That it had value, some intrinsic weight no other could deny, or that if ever it were to be so denied while living that there might be some vindication or equalizing balance in some other after place.
Sieglinde's gaze fell to her feet again, and she felt a twinge of guilt, for what she had done with her wonderful life. For how conflicted she felt even now about it, about her masochistic desire to punish herself that made her doubt whether she'd made the right decision, unbinding the proof of her ignorance and sin. Curled slightly in the bed even though it pained her to do anything that moved them, bandaged tight and splinted, around the spellbook, against Shishi's other side, her strokes of the lion's mane just close enough to brush the lion's fur against Gilgamesh's cheek without touching directly herself. The last time she had set out to comfort him, he had been the one to comfort her. How unfair, when she ached largely physically, and he was pained so in the heart.]
... And is it? Wonderful?
[He hasn't actually said it- not clearly in words. He loved things, and had cherished a thing, and determined one must make the most of one's life... But it seems a subtly different thing.
Was it? Rather... Did he find the answer. Could he understand.]
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It was a beautiful sounding phrase, something that just hearing it, you wished to believe in. That life was wonderful. That it was a thing they were put on the earth to enjoy, to love and live... That it had value, some intrinsic weight no other could deny, or that if ever it were to be so denied while living that there might be some vindication or equalizing balance in some other after place.
Sieglinde's gaze fell to her feet again, and she felt a twinge of guilt, for what she had done with her wonderful life. For how conflicted she felt even now about it, about her masochistic desire to punish herself that made her doubt whether she'd made the right decision, unbinding the proof of her ignorance and sin. Curled slightly in the bed even though it pained her to do anything that moved them, bandaged tight and splinted, around the spellbook, against Shishi's other side, her strokes of the lion's mane just close enough to brush the lion's fur against Gilgamesh's cheek without touching directly herself. The last time she had set out to comfort him, he had been the one to comfort her. How unfair, when she ached largely physically, and he was pained so in the heart.]
... And is it? Wonderful?
[He hasn't actually said it- not clearly in words. He loved things, and had cherished a thing, and determined one must make the most of one's life... But it seems a subtly different thing.
Was it? Rather... Did he find the answer. Could he understand.]