He follows Syrlya, dropping the boots by the door, and idly he thinks about how easily the younger sylvari moves around the house, knowing where his things are, telling Trahearne where to go.
His heart aches. They must have been so close. And he took that away from them? Because of his own doubt and misunderstanding?
He gingerly takes the glasses from Syrlya, careful not to drop them or smudge the lenses, and sits at the edge of the bed. He stares at them, lost in thought for a moment, quietly ripping into himself for being a terrible partner, a bad friend in the confines of his own feelings.
It doesn't show on his face, though. His expression remains blank as he finally fits them over his face. ]
no subject
[ Indeed. Trahearne can't see shit.
He follows Syrlya, dropping the boots by the door, and idly he thinks about how easily the younger sylvari moves around the house, knowing where his things are, telling Trahearne where to go.
His heart aches. They must have been so close. And he took that away from them? Because of his own doubt and misunderstanding?
He gingerly takes the glasses from Syrlya, careful not to drop them or smudge the lenses, and sits at the edge of the bed. He stares at them, lost in thought for a moment, quietly ripping into himself for being a terrible partner, a bad friend in the confines of his own feelings.
It doesn't show on his face, though. His expression remains blank as he finally fits them over his face. ]
And what of the hairpin?