[bold of fern to assume illarion has his shit together
Praise earned was praise due; objectively, despite the awful outcome, they had done very well for a spontaneously organized team of bystanders. Limited casualties, minimal property damage--what wasn't to be proud of, except a child's death. (And so many of them did die in violence, for far less reason.)
Illarion doesn't dispute the armored gentleman's assessment of their job, though the line of his jaw tightens to be reminded of all his Omen had seen.
Except you hesitated, he wants to accuse, unjustly, because there is Bigby in unconsolable agony for having struck that final blow. If someone else, anyone else, had taken it instead--
Except it is an unjustified accusation--projection of his own guilt--and as bad, gave more insight than he wanted anyone to have into how much he knew, and when. Such an insight could wait until he'd determined the appropriate reparation for his own inability to act in time.]
You also did well. [The words are largely without inflection or emotion.] Though this is an end one does not relish praise in, yes?
[He turns his head as if he could look between Fern and Bigby, then steps forward to put a hand lightly on the latter's shoulder.] You knew him.
[Not a question.] Shall you take him to the shore or sit vigil for him?
[There are many other things that needed to be done in the aftermath of such a battle, but the shrike's realistic: No one's focus was there, and there are others around--Hunters and Trenchies--who could take care of those responsibilities for a time.]
no subject
bold of fern to assume illarion has his shit togetherPraise earned was praise due; objectively, despite the awful outcome, they had done very well for a spontaneously organized team of bystanders. Limited casualties, minimal property damage--what wasn't to be proud of, except a child's death. (And so many of them did die in violence, for far less reason.)
Illarion doesn't dispute the armored gentleman's assessment of their job, though the line of his jaw tightens to be reminded of all his Omen had seen.
Except you hesitated, he wants to accuse, unjustly, because there is Bigby in unconsolable agony for having struck that final blow. If someone else, anyone else, had taken it instead--
Except it is an unjustified accusation--projection of his own guilt--and as bad, gave more insight than he wanted anyone to have into how much he knew, and when. Such an insight could wait until he'd determined the appropriate reparation for his own inability to act in time.]
You also did well. [The words are largely without inflection or emotion.] Though this is an end one does not relish praise in, yes?
[He turns his head as if he could look between Fern and Bigby, then steps forward to put a hand lightly on the latter's shoulder.] You knew him.
[Not a question.] Shall you take him to the shore or sit vigil for him?
[There are many other things that needed to be done in the aftermath of such a battle, but the shrike's realistic: No one's focus was there, and there are others around--Hunters and Trenchies--who could take care of those responsibilities for a time.]