[Upon seeing Dion's arms drop, Clive thinks they have finally reached some understanding. And, in a way, they have, though it is hardly the attitude on which he wants to end this discussion.]
Dion.
[If there is a hint of frustration in his tone, Clive hopes it isn't too harsh to Dion's ears. He shakes his head before continuing.]
We are not at war, you and I. There is no need for a truce. Not when I freely give my blessing.
[Then, to acquiesce a little, he bows his head.]
Pray, forgive me if I have given you any other impression.
[A blessing freely given. They are not at war. For a moment it is as though he can hear Terence, assuring him that despite feeling besieged both on the field and off of it, not everything is a battle.
He is not besieged here and there is no field to speak of; it is only that he is accustomed to conducting himself as such.
Dion exhales a careful breath and unwinds the tension in his bearing]
You have not; such is my own failing, I'm afraid. Never would I seek to set myself against you. It is why I asked Joshua to speak with you. [Though he had done so in the hopes he would have before]
Whilst he is too terribly fond to hold my many crimes against me, you have every reason to do so. Thus I am well aware I have no right to ask aught of you- your blessing least of all.
[Even here, even now, Dion allows his sins to drag him down when he has the chance to start anew. Then again, despite how many years have passed, Clive's guilt still follows him like a shadow. He supposes the difference is that he can walk forward and look at that shadow and recognize that it is a part of him. But it doesn't weigh him down like it once did, like it seems to be doing for Dion.
These things take time. Self-loathing and misery are not ailments one can dispel overnight. Though why Dion thinks his crimes are a personal affront to Clive is something he doesn't entirely understand. Yes, he and Joshua fought and fought and fought to subdue Bahamut at Twinside, but they did so willingly, not out of fear.]
I cannot tell you how to feel, nor would I want to, but I want you to know I hold no ill will toward you. You don't have to understand or agree with me. But regardless of who we are or who we might have been or what either of us have done at any point in our lives, you can ask this of me.
[Clive takes a step closer to Dion, his own arms falling to his sides. When next he speaks, his voice softer, quieter, slightly more intimate.]
Not just because it would make my brother happy, though I cannot deny that is a bias of mine. But because we are men. And we deserve the choice to live.
[He does not take a step back and will not run from this. He long deserves any retribution given him. And so Dion meets Ifrit's eyes and braces himself for it.
But it is not condemnation, and rather sounds of a forgiveness that sets his heart racing with a different sort of uncertainty. No ill will, as though his sins matter not, and left little avenue with which to pursue it. He thinks anger would be easier to handle than this soft appeal.
There is a terrible understanding in those eyes, and Dion breaks from them with a hard breath. His hands quake and he curls them into fists at his sides. He feels.. unmoored, his thoughts fragmented and scattered- as though he is seventeen and vulnerable in the face of pressure. Only he knows well how to function under pressure- this is the easing of burdens that he flounders with now. How terrible that he has grown so used to their weight that he would almost rather keep them.
The only person you have wronged here is yourself.
He huffs strained amusement and shakes his head]
Jill and Joshua both assured me you would not object, and still it remains a wonder to me.
[He shifts, then settles and drags up a faint smile as he finds his footing]
But it occurs to me that I have rather unfairly compared you to the morbol's lair that comprised the Sanbrequois court- and for that I most sincerely apologize.
Edited (Im done editing i swear) 2024-12-09 07:47 (UTC)
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no subject
Dion.
[If there is a hint of frustration in his tone, Clive hopes it isn't too harsh to Dion's ears. He shakes his head before continuing.]
We are not at war, you and I. There is no need for a truce. Not when I freely give my blessing.
[Then, to acquiesce a little, he bows his head.]
Pray, forgive me if I have given you any other impression.
no subject
He is not besieged here and there is no field to speak of; it is only that he is accustomed to conducting himself as such.
Dion exhales a careful breath and unwinds the tension in his bearing]
You have not; such is my own failing, I'm afraid. Never would I seek to set myself against you. It is why I asked Joshua to speak with you. [Though he had done so in the hopes he would have before]
Whilst he is too terribly fond to hold my many crimes against me, you have every reason to do so. Thus I am well aware I have no right to ask aught of you- your blessing least of all.
no subject
These things take time. Self-loathing and misery are not ailments one can dispel overnight. Though why Dion thinks his crimes are a personal affront to Clive is something he doesn't entirely understand. Yes, he and Joshua fought and fought and fought to subdue Bahamut at Twinside, but they did so willingly, not out of fear.]
I cannot tell you how to feel, nor would I want to, but I want you to know I hold no ill will toward you. You don't have to understand or agree with me. But regardless of who we are or who we might have been or what either of us have done at any point in our lives, you can ask this of me.
[Clive takes a step closer to Dion, his own arms falling to his sides. When next he speaks, his voice softer, quieter, slightly more intimate.]
Not just because it would make my brother happy, though I cannot deny that is a bias of mine. But because we are men. And we deserve the choice to live.
no subject
But it is not condemnation, and rather sounds of a forgiveness that sets his heart racing with a different sort of uncertainty. No ill will, as though his sins matter not, and left little avenue with which to pursue it. He thinks anger would be easier to handle than this soft appeal.
There is a terrible understanding in those eyes, and Dion breaks from them with a hard breath. His hands quake and he curls them into fists at his sides. He feels.. unmoored, his thoughts fragmented and scattered- as though he is seventeen and vulnerable in the face of pressure. Only he knows well how to function under pressure- this is the easing of burdens that he flounders with now. How terrible that he has grown so used to their weight that he would almost rather keep them.
The only person you have wronged here is yourself.
He huffs strained amusement and shakes his head]
Jill and Joshua both assured me you would not object, and still it remains a wonder to me.
[He shifts, then settles and drags up a faint smile as he finds his footing]
But it occurs to me that I have rather unfairly compared you to the morbol's lair that comprised the Sanbrequois court- and for that I most sincerely apologize.