[ The words are slow, they come from him like a river that hopes to meet the sea. Hayame is that sea, and he wants so badly to reach her. For his empathy to coax her to know the confidence that he has in her, that despite the numeral burning on her brow, he doesn't think less of her. A murderer is not a warrior, and to know that her kills will come under his watchful eye... he knows she won't run astray, in her eagerness, if he can guide her gently. If he'll let her be a kind lord to her, and overwrite her poor memories of those that came before. ]
Her name is Mithra, and my father loves her where he doesn't so much as--
[ A sharp noise, as he reflects on it. He might press too hard against her cheek, swiping roughly as he's overcome with the mere thought of it. That his father doesn't look his way, save for with cold eyes and no love in his heart. Hayame doesn't need to know that, not now. It leads to too much, and he could be discovered for the liar and traitor he is. ]
Things became so wrong. I have... "brothers" now, who may be blood. I want to surpass them, and at every turn, I feel as though I fall farther and farther behind. It's like that, isn't it, Hayame? This feeling that you'll never catch up, that every step you take is weighted against you. That you'll never quite amount to what you should.
[ His hand touches her other cheek. She's struggling, and he is too. Neither of them seem very well made, especially for expression emotions that are often better hidden. ]
I can't be a prince, for my realm. Not here. But, I can be a prince for you, and that is what I strive for. I want to be your bastion, your stability. A lord worth your bow and the one who is always in your corner, no matter what comes our way. I don't believe I could accept your brother, not over you.
no subject
[ The words are slow, they come from him like a river that hopes to meet the sea. Hayame is that sea, and he wants so badly to reach her. For his empathy to coax her to know the confidence that he has in her, that despite the numeral burning on her brow, he doesn't think less of her. A murderer is not a warrior, and to know that her kills will come under his watchful eye... he knows she won't run astray, in her eagerness, if he can guide her gently. If he'll let her be a kind lord to her, and overwrite her poor memories of those that came before. ]
Her name is Mithra, and my father loves her where he doesn't so much as--
[ A sharp noise, as he reflects on it. He might press too hard against her cheek, swiping roughly as he's overcome with the mere thought of it. That his father doesn't look his way, save for with cold eyes and no love in his heart. Hayame doesn't need to know that, not now. It leads to too much, and he could be discovered for the liar and traitor he is. ]
Things became so wrong. I have... "brothers" now, who may be blood. I want to surpass them, and at every turn, I feel as though I fall farther and farther behind. It's like that, isn't it, Hayame? This feeling that you'll never catch up, that every step you take is weighted against you. That you'll never quite amount to what you should.
[ His hand touches her other cheek. She's struggling, and he is too. Neither of them seem very well made, especially for expression emotions that are often better hidden. ]
I can't be a prince, for my realm. Not here. But, I can be a prince for you, and that is what I strive for. I want to be your bastion, your stability. A lord worth your bow and the one who is always in your corner, no matter what comes our way. I don't believe I could accept your brother, not over you.