[ it feels like the world comes to a standstill in complete silence. Dainsleif had dreamt about this before, maybe not quite this exact scenario, but the idea remains the same: somehow, against all odds, he is reunited with the lost prince of Khaenri'ah again. their eyes meet, and just like his reality right now, recognition comes to life behind star-shaped pupils, followed by a realization that is quite daunting. this can't be real, he wants to say, night-coloured eyes still focused on the man before him. he has long since discarded this possibility as wishful thinking, a lonely man's weak desire for some semblance of hope.
what is he supposed to do now? ]
... A drink, you say? You're too generous.
[ he's thankful for the opening, for the temporary distraction from what they're both trying to avoid.
Dainsleif doesn't miss the way the other man looked at him — wide-eyed and in disbelif. it's too early to tell if that was because this person recognized him for who he is, or what he was (after all, starry eyes are only known to exist in a nation that is no longer around), but a broken emotion has started to take root in his chest. it's one that he hasn't allowed himself to believe in for so many years, and it would be hypocritical of him to start now given what he told the Traveler now too long ago. clinging to false hope is dangerous, he knows this best, and yet— he reaches down to pick up the fallen coin from the floor before he takes the seat that was gestured to him. his eyes haven't stopped looking at the man beside him the entire time he did this, and by the time he settles, the world decides to spin again.
he opens his palm where the coin now rests, as if waiting for it to be retrieved. ]
The kinds of stories I have might not be of particular interest to you, but you're welcome to ask if there is anything in particular you'd like to know.
[ the stories he holds close to his heart are born from forgotten hopes and lost dreams. neither of them are acknowledging how intimately familiar they are with what these stories could be about, but Dainsleif wouldn't dare to be the one to break the fragility of this moment.
as the Twilight Sword, the one who failed to protect the nation he was meant to serve, it's not his place to take the first step. ]
no subject
what is he supposed to do now? ]
... A drink, you say? You're too generous.
[ he's thankful for the opening, for the temporary distraction from what they're both trying to avoid.
Dainsleif doesn't miss the way the other man looked at him — wide-eyed and in disbelif. it's too early to tell if that was because this person recognized him for who he is, or what he was (after all, starry eyes are only known to exist in a nation that is no longer around), but a broken emotion has started to take root in his chest. it's one that he hasn't allowed himself to believe in for so many years, and it would be hypocritical of him to start now given what he told the Traveler now too long ago. clinging to false hope is dangerous, he knows this best, and yet— he reaches down to pick up the fallen coin from the floor before he takes the seat that was gestured to him. his eyes haven't stopped looking at the man beside him the entire time he did this, and by the time he settles, the world decides to spin again.
he opens his palm where the coin now rests, as if waiting for it to be retrieved. ]
The kinds of stories I have might not be of particular interest to you, but you're welcome to ask if there is anything in particular you'd like to know.
[ the stories he holds close to his heart are born from forgotten hopes and lost dreams. neither of them are acknowledging how intimately familiar they are with what these stories could be about, but Dainsleif wouldn't dare to be the one to break the fragility of this moment.
as the Twilight Sword, the one who failed to protect the nation he was meant to serve, it's not his place to take the first step. ]