[ Roland is too keenly aware of everything. The touch of foliage against his clothes, the rustle of their movements as they walk faster and faster. Maybe even sprinting when it calls for it. But he's also aware of Inigo's hand in his, the weight of it keeping him even more focused than he too himself to be. It's a reminder of the stakes, though this was not his home, this was not his planet.
All he can think about is the end. The red of the sky tattooed forever in his heart, his mind ablaze just like when clouds cut open and bled over his land. Failures, millions of lives, Will dead because Roland could not be the father he tried to live up to.
He can't feel anything but the warmth creeping up his face, the sides tingling and his ears ringing. There's so much jungle to traverse that he uses his sword like a machete, cutting and slicing through branch and leaf relentlessly. Then, Inigo speaks. And he hears them, but Inigo's words hurt him, despite not intending to. They hurt because he still thinks he doesn't deserve it; this second chance, this boy asking him to love him like a son. How many sons will pass his hands, dust falling like sand through his fingers? It was dark magic that made him see it, but it wasn't far from the truth. William's eyes melting, black and lifeless, It's too late for that now. Always too late, never enough.
He swings his sword with more force, splitting flora apart without consideration. Can't think, just wanting to get this over with. Just wanting to hold Inigo close and leave this godforsaken planet. This can't be easy on him either. The Fell Dragon could appear at any moment, that's what he said. What if it already has? What if this planet was just that; the manifestation of all their sorrows, finally come to finish the deed? And even then, Roland would be useless to stop the tides. ]
...I'd rather be together with you in a much better place than here.
[ For the first time in a long time, Roland allows himself to sound the way he feels. Forlorn. Frightened. He delays his movements and slows significantly until he manages to stop moving, stop walking, stop slashing and prodding at the pathway before them. His head drops, chin against his chest, as his eyes glaze over with a shadow reserved only for his deepest dreams. Nightmares.
The hand in Inigo's loosens, as if Roland has suddenly grown weak and defeated. ]
tw; mild descriptions of ptsd
All he can think about is the end. The red of the sky tattooed forever in his heart, his mind ablaze just like when clouds cut open and bled over his land. Failures, millions of lives, Will dead because Roland could not be the father he tried to live up to.
He can't feel anything but the warmth creeping up his face, the sides tingling and his ears ringing. There's so much jungle to traverse that he uses his sword like a machete, cutting and slicing through branch and leaf relentlessly. Then, Inigo speaks. And he hears them, but Inigo's words hurt him, despite not intending to. They hurt because he still thinks he doesn't deserve it; this second chance, this boy asking him to love him like a son. How many sons will pass his hands, dust falling like sand through his fingers? It was dark magic that made him see it, but it wasn't far from the truth. William's eyes melting, black and lifeless, It's too late for that now. Always too late, never enough.
He swings his sword with more force, splitting flora apart without consideration. Can't think, just wanting to get this over with. Just wanting to hold Inigo close and leave this godforsaken planet. This can't be easy on him either. The Fell Dragon could appear at any moment, that's what he said. What if it already has? What if this planet was just that; the manifestation of all their sorrows, finally come to finish the deed? And even then, Roland would be useless to stop the tides. ]
...I'd rather be together with you in a much better place than here.
[ For the first time in a long time, Roland allows himself to sound the way he feels. Forlorn. Frightened. He delays his movements and slows significantly until he manages to stop moving, stop walking, stop slashing and prodding at the pathway before them. His head drops, chin against his chest, as his eyes glaze over with a shadow reserved only for his deepest dreams. Nightmares.
The hand in Inigo's loosens, as if Roland has suddenly grown weak and defeated. ]