He slashes the vines at last, violently, his actions speaking louder than his voice that barely comes out from his throat. The plants fall lamely to the ground, and Roland turns his back, gaze low and ashamed. Like he hates to say it, but it's what he's been hiding all this time. Behind the resolution, the desire to rebuild what has been lost. He doesn't know how to be the father Will needs because the way he loves has always been through service, and when you have a child born with every disadvantage known to mankind, in a country at the center of global warfare...What else is Roland to do? Roland the President, twice voted; Roland the father, unprepared, alone. The version of Will in the Memory Lane could have been Tidus. Growing up not having him, neither Jecht, nor Roland. Wondering if the stories their fathers left them is the answer to the loss.
This empty book, it's yours right? We'll fill it up with all my adventures. I'll come back to you. We'll read them together.
"Sorry."
He shakes his head, looks back with a sheepish smile, lips moving but not by much. The path is clear before them, but neither of them really seem to want to move. Heavy but it's what makes them stay. He tries to interject humor into it, a dry little chuckle coming out of him with the back of his neck rubbed by a calloused hand. "You sounded like my wife back there. Did she possess you or something?"
He exhales audibly.
"...Would you want the same?" Is all he can offer, an ask, a reach for help. The vulnerability he's outwardly showing, too much that it almost chokes. He's this far gone, though. He might as well ask for someone to save him too, from his own grief. "This. More messages. More from your old man. You'd - you'd be happy? With just a story?"
An empty book filled out. Will smiling. 'You help people, right daddy? Promise me...
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He slashes the vines at last, violently, his actions speaking louder than his voice that barely comes out from his throat. The plants fall lamely to the ground, and Roland turns his back, gaze low and ashamed. Like he hates to say it, but it's what he's been hiding all this time. Behind the resolution, the desire to rebuild what has been lost. He doesn't know how to be the father Will needs because the way he loves has always been through service, and when you have a child born with every disadvantage known to mankind, in a country at the center of global warfare...What else is Roland to do? Roland the President, twice voted; Roland the father, unprepared, alone. The version of Will in the Memory Lane could have been Tidus. Growing up not having him, neither Jecht, nor Roland. Wondering if the stories their fathers left them is the answer to the loss.
This empty book, it's yours right? We'll fill it up with all my adventures. I'll come back to you. We'll read them together.
"Sorry."
He shakes his head, looks back with a sheepish smile, lips moving but not by much. The path is clear before them, but neither of them really seem to want to move. Heavy but it's what makes them stay. He tries to interject humor into it, a dry little chuckle coming out of him with the back of his neck rubbed by a calloused hand. "You sounded like my wife back there. Did she possess you or something?"
He exhales audibly.
"...Would you want the same?" Is all he can offer, an ask, a reach for help. The vulnerability he's outwardly showing, too much that it almost chokes. He's this far gone, though. He might as well ask for someone to save him too, from his own grief. "This. More messages. More from your old man. You'd - you'd be happy? With just a story?"
An empty book filled out. Will smiling. 'You help people, right daddy? Promise me...
...that you'll keep helping people!'