IC Inbox: Hugtopia

[flawed_immortality]

"Make it good."

Comments

[scourgingstars]

I'm sorry. I don't mean to cause you any trouble.

[flawed_immortality]

You haven't. You cannot stop a worrier from worrying.

[scourgingstars]

I suppose that someone has to look after a house with no ability to look after themselves. I only regret that we're so persistent in that.

[flawed_immortality]

That has largely been left to the Amicitias. I just happen to have found myself in service to three generations.

[scourgingstars]

My condolences, you terribly unlucky thing.

[flawed_immortality]

I would not change a moment of it.

[Well... he might consider leaving Mors out but if not for Mors he'd never have ended up in Regis' service.]

[scourgingstars]

Your patience is truly immeasurable, my friend. A highly enviable trait.

[flawed_immortality]

That is not always for the best.

[Like spending most of his life secretly pining for his King, oops.]

[scourgingstars]

Isn't it? I hope nothing is bothering you.

[flawed_immortality]

No, not any more. But being around those who are so readily sacrificing does inspire a certain level of the same in those close to them.

[scourgingstars]

I'm sorry. I...truly just don't know any other way to exist.

[flawed_immortality]

I wouldn't ask you to, I don't think anyone would. Not if they care for you. But that does mean we're allowed to worry.

Especially when you feel suffering alone is better than being an inconvenience.

[Don't think he's forgotten why he's come over. But harping on it won't help anyone. If Ardyn doesn't want to talk about her then Cor is certainly not going to push.]

[scourgingstars]

It's...nothing, really. I've long since grown used to it, so there's no reason for anyone else to worry about me.

[flawed_immortality]

Would you consider, for a moment, that dismissing someone's pain as nothing would be considered callous. I would not stand for a stranger to speak ill of my family in such a way and, while I cannot truly stop you, I do wish you could give yourself at least some measure of the allowances you would allow another.

[He sighs heavily, the arm around Ardyn bending so he can curl his fingers lightly into wine-colored strands. An idle motion, coil one curl tight, then brush his fingers through to loosen it again and repeat. It's something to do with his frustration at least. He cannot protect them, any of them, from the burdens they place upon themselves, no matter how desperately he wishes to.]