"No need for apology, though I appreciate the kindness that inspired it," Wesker or Locrian replies. "He made me what I am become. I suppose I'm grateful for that much, though it took coming to Deerington for me to realize I could take charge of my story, even if the early chapters can't be rewritten." Though it took Sodder's revealing some rewrites of his life and a glimpse of the possible endings lying before him if he did not change his course.
A gentle smile that only just reaches his odd eyes. "Then congratulations are in order. I hope, in spite of this world's strange tricks, that the both of you can build a life and continue your story together. Let it be a lovely one.
From somewhere nearby, a fiddle and a flute player with perhaps a hurdy gurdy player start up a gentle, thoughtful melody. Wesker looks in the direction of the music. "I know some of that feeling. I nearly had a wife, but the quarrels of ...kingdoms and their petty princes came between us. I hope she made a good life for herself."
Orpheus glances up as the music starts, curious and a little easily distracted, but he manages to get back on track when he notices the seriousness with which Locrian speaks, catching enough of what he's saying to understand.
"I hope so, too," he says. "It's hard, letting people go when you love them, or loved them? And sometimes hoping they're happy wherever they are is the best you can do."
And it's hard not to think, then, of some of his lovers before Eurydice, and wonder where they are now. How they weathered the intensifying seasons, and what they'll do now that spring has come again. But there's no point dwelling on it, he guesses, except to hold on to that bittersweet nostalgia for a moment and acknowledge it and let it pass.
"Thank you, though. This place is - strange, in a lot of ways, but so far it's been kind to us. We have a house? And a garden." By the sound of it he's still sort of processing that fact. "Not much grows here? But it's ours, and I'm sure we can figure something out."
[CW: Fourth wall-leaning]
A gentle smile that only just reaches his odd eyes. "Then congratulations are in order. I hope, in spite of this world's strange tricks, that the both of you can build a life and continue your story together. Let it be a lovely one.
From somewhere nearby, a fiddle and a flute player with perhaps a hurdy gurdy player start up a gentle, thoughtful melody. Wesker looks in the direction of the music. "I know some of that feeling. I nearly had a wife, but the quarrels of ...kingdoms and their petty princes came between us. I hope she made a good life for herself."
no subject
"I hope so, too," he says. "It's hard, letting people go when you love them, or loved them? And sometimes hoping they're happy wherever they are is the best you can do."
And it's hard not to think, then, of some of his lovers before Eurydice, and wonder where they are now. How they weathered the intensifying seasons, and what they'll do now that spring has come again. But there's no point dwelling on it, he guesses, except to hold on to that bittersweet nostalgia for a moment and acknowledge it and let it pass.
"Thank you, though. This place is - strange, in a lot of ways, but so far it's been kind to us. We have a house? And a garden." By the sound of it he's still sort of processing that fact. "Not much grows here? But it's ours, and I'm sure we can figure something out."