[Sieg listens, gaze still fixed out across the surrounding woodland, the raw glisten of his eyes the only betrayer of emotion. Shryke speaks with a great deal of authority, too much for someone practically a stranger to him, and in other circumstances Sieg might have criticised him for it. Instead he tries to let it pass unheeded. He'll take the words, thank Shryke, ask to be alone. The night will end.
Only, the boy is right about one thing. He will miss Xian. He doesn't have a choice. His fingers are twitching pain and every little flinch from this self-inflicted hurt is going to have Xian all over it.]
He was intelligent. Uneducated, but... [But what? Why is he even talking? And what is he saying? It's too fucking soon to be romanticising like this, he has never once considered Xian in such a favourable light. But it is true, isn't it? He's just never seen it before now.
The words keep coming, low and soft and unbidden.] When it became obvious how sick I was, and how suddenly it could come upon me, my parents grew nervous of letting me stray far from their sight. So growing up I spent a lot of time under tutelage. I used to read. I'd read any book I could lay my hands on just to pass the time. I'm educated. I didn't have a great deal of choice.
But that didn't matter with Xian. He always had ways to make me feel stupid. [Has he ever admitted that before? Sieg chuckles, short and wry and grim, the bitter amusement coming through in his words.] And he'd laugh. If he were here now, he'd laugh at this. He'd want to know how it always manages to be about myself. He'd call this self-pity.
[And if he goes on much longer, Xian won't be the only one laughing. Sieg closes his eyes, presses his forehead to one raised knee.]
I apologise for causing a scene. If you'd rather not burden yourself with an injured teammate, I understand.
[It sounds peaceful, staying here alone. If he keeps his eyes closed long enough someone will find him, maybe keep him from opening them again. How's that for self-pity, huh, Xian...?]
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Only, the boy is right about one thing. He will miss Xian. He doesn't have a choice. His fingers are twitching pain and every little flinch from this self-inflicted hurt is going to have Xian all over it.]
He was intelligent. Uneducated, but... [But what? Why is he even talking? And what is he saying? It's too fucking soon to be romanticising like this, he has never once considered Xian in such a favourable light. But it is true, isn't it? He's just never seen it before now.
The words keep coming, low and soft and unbidden.] When it became obvious how sick I was, and how suddenly it could come upon me, my parents grew nervous of letting me stray far from their sight. So growing up I spent a lot of time under tutelage. I used to read. I'd read any book I could lay my hands on just to pass the time. I'm educated. I didn't have a great deal of choice.
But that didn't matter with Xian. He always had ways to make me feel stupid. [Has he ever admitted that before? Sieg chuckles, short and wry and grim, the bitter amusement coming through in his words.] And he'd laugh. If he were here now, he'd laugh at this. He'd want to know how it always manages to be about myself. He'd call this self-pity.
[And if he goes on much longer, Xian won't be the only one laughing. Sieg closes his eyes, presses his forehead to one raised knee.]
I apologise for causing a scene. If you'd rather not burden yourself with an injured teammate, I understand.
[It sounds peaceful, staying here alone. If he keeps his eyes closed long enough someone will find him, maybe keep him from opening them again. How's that for self-pity, huh, Xian...?]