voice; un: homeros

[leitstern]

Hmph! Titles here are worthless. Futile, trivial words scrawled on parchment. Merely thinking of them insults me.

[Granted, he needs little provocation to feel insulted.]

Why do you regard their distinction as an accolade worthy of merit?

It has been most instructive as to the nature of your kind that you salivate like mongrels and chase subordination and not independence.

[There is an embittered sigh.]

Do you not entertain any notion of loyalty to your native land? Your eager willingness to chase glory is abominable. Hm. It is useless. You should close your mouths and remember where you come from.

Comments

[leitstern]

It matters not whether you believe nobody should impede your right to decide your actions. The world will never seek your permission.

[His tone is cold and devoid of affect.]

A lesson afforded to your father I think.

[feisticuffs]

[She grits her teeth. It's a low blow, but also a very deliberate moving of goalposts to distract from the actual conversation at hand.]

An incredibly unfortunate and infuriating turn of events, yes, but not what's being discussed now.

[Mordegon isn't here, lucky for all of them.]

You do not have the right to dictate what I choose to remember, was the point. I highly doubt you intend to do to me what your master chose to do to my father.

[leitstern]

[There is a cold and deathly silence. When he remembers the possession of the king, he remembers being ignored. People choosing to forgo reason and forget his warnings.]

You know perfectly well I would not act without reason.

[There had been a reason to possessing the king; same as there being a reason for his treason.]

Though knowledge of my motivation is as irrelevent as your naive belief you have a decision. I do not expect you to understand.

[feisticuffs]

I hardly made any such accusation.

[She sighs heavily, closing her eyes for a moment and pinching the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb. Speaking with him is always an exercise in frustration and watching targets wildly fly about in front of her; he's stubborn for the sake of it and infuriatingly elusive besides.

Why, she asks herself not for the first time, does she bother?]

Once again, we are unable to understand one another. [She sounds neither surprised, nor defeated.] So it is, then.

[leitstern]

[Something is missing in their exchange. Some reason and motivation for hurt and anger. The problem with having no memory of her past eight years is complex; his anger still directed at a child. The memory of being the outsider in his adoptive family is more painful than he wants it to be.]

It seems so. One of these days perhaps we shall speak properly.

[Without bitter anger? Hopefully.]

[feisticuffs]

Wouldn't that be something?

[Though she cannot help the trace of sarcasm that manages to worm its way through, there's a genuine note to her words, as well, brief as they are. She remembers who he was quite well, and even fondly at times— but sixteen years is a very, very long time apart, and people change.

They both have, she imagines; she would have been a very different person if she had ever had the opportunity to remain in Heliodor— if doing so had not been a death sentence.]

Until then.

[The feed closes, and she will leave him to his own devices. If they cannot converse civilly, she would not perpetuate more conflict.]