[He thinks. He hopes. Danarius had spent a fortune and a lifetime making Fenris, and he was wealthy beyond measure. It must have taken this Reis the same amount of effort, surely; such things are uncommon, and wickedly expensive to boot.]
No. That is . . . not in recent memory, but my memory is not always reliable. To my mind, it has been half a year or so.
[But perhaps longer. He studies her, his eyes not unfriendly. She's young, certainly. Green eyes, like his own; long hair, and though his own is a blunt undercut now, still, he remembers the joy that came from hiding his eyes beneath long bangs. Tension wracked throughout her frame, and he remembers that too. The poise of a creature used to having to fight: not a prey animal flinching from loud noises, but a predator that has been abused for too long ready to snarl at the world.
What is it to have a counterpart like this? An echo of the past, and yet so remarkably different from himself that there can be no mixing them up. What would he have given to have someone show him how to handle his pain? How not to just flinch warily from the world, but embrace it? He does not know if he, himself, can be such a thing for this girl, but oh, wouldn't it be lovely to try?]
What do you . . .
[No, that's not the way.]
How do you find it? Riftwatch. Do you fit in?
[Maker help him, he sounds like a guidance counselor, but bear with him.]
no subject
[He thinks. He hopes. Danarius had spent a fortune and a lifetime making Fenris, and he was wealthy beyond measure. It must have taken this Reis the same amount of effort, surely; such things are uncommon, and wickedly expensive to boot.]
No. That is . . . not in recent memory, but my memory is not always reliable. To my mind, it has been half a year or so.
[But perhaps longer. He studies her, his eyes not unfriendly. She's young, certainly. Green eyes, like his own; long hair, and though his own is a blunt undercut now, still, he remembers the joy that came from hiding his eyes beneath long bangs. Tension wracked throughout her frame, and he remembers that too. The poise of a creature used to having to fight: not a prey animal flinching from loud noises, but a predator that has been abused for too long ready to snarl at the world.
What is it to have a counterpart like this? An echo of the past, and yet so remarkably different from himself that there can be no mixing them up. What would he have given to have someone show him how to handle his pain? How not to just flinch warily from the world, but embrace it? He does not know if he, himself, can be such a thing for this girl, but oh, wouldn't it be lovely to try?]
What do you . . .
[No, that's not the way.]
How do you find it? Riftwatch. Do you fit in?
[Maker help him, he sounds like a guidance counselor, but bear with him.]