Laslow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chaines) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
volkamenia2016-07-15 09:50 pm
chaines) wrote in volkamenia2016-07-15 09:50 pm
the stars, the moon, they have all been blown out [laslow + leo, post birthright]
[ A feeling has settled in the pit of Laslow's stomach - made its residence there, heavy like lead and twisting his insides. It hurts more than the weapons that had pierced his body during his final battle as Lord Xander's retainer, brought him straight to death's door...
but he had been rejected then. He lives, despite nearly bleeding out on the combat room floor. And how cruel fate was, in his eyes, to not take his life instead of theirs, to let a veteran of now three wars continue to draw breath instead of the crown prince of Nohr or a girl whose past had been far too cruel to her.
Xander and Peri are dead, but Laslow is alive. Confined to a hospital bed still after over a week of rest (if he could call it that, when their faces and voices haunt his dreams and he wakes up every time crying), but undoubtedly his heart beats inside his chest. Laslow can't help but despise this fact - while Selena and Odin visit frequently, and clerics he can't bother to learn the names of were always within shouting distance, he's often left in silence, and to his thoughts. In his head he replays that day over and over again, an infinite loop in his mind: what could he have done differently? Should he have listened to Xander and stayed in the room? Should he have acted faster, drawn his blade before anyone else could've?
Why couldn't he have saved the one most near and dear to his heart again?
Realistically speaking, he's not alone: people still roam the halls of Castle Krakenburg, filling the air with as much energy and life as they could after the loss of the war, of the king, a prince, a princess. But the only companionship he feels is that of guilt and mourning, their intensity rivaled only by the grief he felt after the death of his parents.
He keeps his head lowered, knuckles white as he clutches the bedsheets, and feels the all too familiar sting of tears in his eyes. ]
but he had been rejected then. He lives, despite nearly bleeding out on the combat room floor. And how cruel fate was, in his eyes, to not take his life instead of theirs, to let a veteran of now three wars continue to draw breath instead of the crown prince of Nohr or a girl whose past had been far too cruel to her.
Xander and Peri are dead, but Laslow is alive. Confined to a hospital bed still after over a week of rest (if he could call it that, when their faces and voices haunt his dreams and he wakes up every time crying), but undoubtedly his heart beats inside his chest. Laslow can't help but despise this fact - while Selena and Odin visit frequently, and clerics he can't bother to learn the names of were always within shouting distance, he's often left in silence, and to his thoughts. In his head he replays that day over and over again, an infinite loop in his mind: what could he have done differently? Should he have listened to Xander and stayed in the room? Should he have acted faster, drawn his blade before anyone else could've?
Why couldn't he have saved the one most near and dear to his heart again?
Realistically speaking, he's not alone: people still roam the halls of Castle Krakenburg, filling the air with as much energy and life as they could after the loss of the war, of the king, a prince, a princess. But the only companionship he feels is that of guilt and mourning, their intensity rivaled only by the grief he felt after the death of his parents.
He keeps his head lowered, knuckles white as he clutches the bedsheets, and feels the all too familiar sting of tears in his eyes. ]
no subject
Those words are on the tip of his tongue, but they slide down his throat to the pit of his stomach as Leo continues to talk. And then Leo says those four simple words - you are needed here - and before he can stop himself his shoulders begin to shake and he chokes out a sob. His still healing wounds scream with each tremor of his body but he lets them because despite being bedridden this was the best he's felt in over a week.
It'd be a while yet before he could forgive himself - but if one of the people who'd have the most reason to curse his existence didn't hate him, then maybe things would be okay. ] Th... thank you.
[ He sucks in a breath and wipes at his face, first with his hands and then with the blankets when the tears won't stop. ] I... I won't let you down. I promise.