[ ...it feels like history is doomed to repeat itself, over and over again.
Matt draws further away, draws a sort of defensive barrier around himself that has that sinking feeling in Abel's chest growing all the more unbearable, because with it comes a twinge of realization. even if it looks like his words are hitting some kind of chord, that - if given time - he might make some kind of headway, make it through to Matt--
time is a luxury neither of them have, nor can they afford.
the priest's grip on his Shard tightens; so too does the grimace at his lips. he cannot-- and will not-- try to force this man's hand. this is a decision, a choice, he must make for himself. it breaks Abel's heart just as it has so many times before, but... the agency is in the hands of the Kenoma. their fates are their own, even if it's infuriatingly frustrating to think about it in such a way. they had been manipulated into this choice, Abel feels, and that is something he will never forgive the Regent for.
but he doesn't take another step forward. instead, there is a meager slope of his shoulders that signifies his incredibly reluctant and unhappy defeat. ]
...You won't come, then. [ softer, quieter than the impassioned words before them. ] If you have to go, and our paths are going in separate directions..
[ ... ]
Whatever you do, Mr. Matt-- whatever sacrifices you feel you must make, it's never too late to turn around. I'll be waiting for you if you should ever start walking the other way, alright--?
[ and there will be forgiveness, a hand stretched out and waiting for him should he ever find himself ready to take it. ]
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Matt draws further away, draws a sort of defensive barrier around himself that has that sinking feeling in Abel's chest growing all the more unbearable, because with it comes a twinge of realization. even if it looks like his words are hitting some kind of chord, that - if given time - he might make some kind of headway, make it through to Matt--
time is a luxury neither of them have, nor can they afford.
the priest's grip on his Shard tightens; so too does the grimace at his lips. he cannot-- and will not-- try to force this man's hand. this is a decision, a choice, he must make for himself. it breaks Abel's heart just as it has so many times before, but... the agency is in the hands of the Kenoma. their fates are their own, even if it's infuriatingly frustrating to think about it in such a way. they had been manipulated into this choice, Abel feels, and that is something he will never forgive the Regent for.
but he doesn't take another step forward. instead, there is a meager slope of his shoulders that signifies his incredibly reluctant and unhappy defeat. ]
...You won't come, then. [ softer, quieter than the impassioned words before them. ] If you have to go, and our paths are going in separate directions..
[ ... ]
Whatever you do, Mr. Matt-- whatever sacrifices you feel you must make, it's never too late to turn around. I'll be waiting for you if you should ever start walking the other way, alright--?
[ and there will be forgiveness, a hand stretched out and waiting for him should he ever find himself ready to take it. ]