He raises his eyes as she speaks back to her face. Era's description is so apt and true that it does bring a sad smile to Ardbert's face even if his heart is too heavy to fully enjoy it.
Era so succinctly puts his feelings into words that his shoulders relax with tenseness he hadn't noticed until now, and his smile falls against his sorrow. "Aye, that's the truth of it. But part of our soul knows him and loves him, but it can't ever be realized." He looks down again, closing his eyes as his motions cease. "I can't even grieve properly. How do you grieve someone you only wanted to know and love? You can remember his eccentricities so easily, so completely, and I...."
Ardbert screws up his face and blinks rapidly, surprised that tears are starting to well in his eyes. "... I've started to grieve him alongside my friends. But for them, even after over a hundred years of wandering around mindlessly trapped with only myself—I can still remember the good times. Little things each of them did that were distinctly them."
He looks upwards as if that'll stop the tears from falling. "But I was so godsdamned busy just trying to get used to being alive again that... I hardly had the chance to notice any of those things about Hades. There's hardly any memories... when we should have had time to make so many more. So that I'd have something to at least remember him by. Something to miss."
Before he can hurt himself worse, he shuts his mouth. It's too late. Ardbert's been holding this back for so long. Era's given him a sign that she can talk about Hades without breaking down or suffering too much. Which means there's room for him to express his grief, finally
It's soul deep in a way that feels like his but isn't his. It's not his, is it? Grief from his soul? Ardbert feels disjointed, and it's both right and wrong. Which, honestly, makes it all the more distressing.
WELL THIS THREAD GOT SAD
Era so succinctly puts his feelings into words that his shoulders relax with tenseness he hadn't noticed until now, and his smile falls against his sorrow. "Aye, that's the truth of it. But part of our soul knows him and loves him, but it can't ever be realized." He looks down again, closing his eyes as his motions cease. "I can't even grieve properly. How do you grieve someone you only wanted to know and love? You can remember his eccentricities so easily, so completely, and I...."
Ardbert screws up his face and blinks rapidly, surprised that tears are starting to well in his eyes. "... I've started to grieve him alongside my friends. But for them, even after over a hundred years of wandering around mindlessly trapped with only myself—I can still remember the good times. Little things each of them did that were distinctly them."
He looks upwards as if that'll stop the tears from falling. "But I was so godsdamned busy just trying to get used to being alive again that... I hardly had the chance to notice any of those things about Hades. There's hardly any memories... when we should have had time to make so many more. So that I'd have something to at least remember him by. Something to miss."
Before he can hurt himself worse, he shuts his mouth. It's too late. Ardbert's been holding this back for so long. Era's given him a sign that she can talk about Hades without breaking down or suffering too much. Which means there's room for him to express his grief, finally
It's soul deep in a way that feels like his but isn't his. It's not his, is it? Grief from his soul? Ardbert feels disjointed, and it's both right and wrong. Which, honestly, makes it all the more distressing.
"Oh, godsdamnit. I'm going to wake up the baby."