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
Leo's hand feels heavy against his back, but its weight is comforting. Concrete. Real. He falls forward easily, arms wrapping around his torso to hold him. ] ... Thanks. [ Not really having a comfortable place to rest his head, he leans it gently against Leo's and inhales deeply.
They’re alive. Weeks - months, maybe even years from recovering from the war, sure. But they still draw breath. That's enough for now.
Without thinking, he squeezes Leo tighter - and instantly regrets it, as his body screams in protest and he winces. ] Ah- [ For the record, armor really is uncomfortable against nearly fatal wounds. He laughs sheepishly and settles back in the comfortable but loose embrace. ] I'm fine, I'm fine. [ A quick response, to assuage Leo's worries.
The words become a mantra - I'm fine. I'm fine. - over the subsequent weeks, as he spends days drifting in and out of consciousness, as he returns to the quarters where he and Peri dwelled (he doesn't touch anything of hers. can't bring himself to do it. tells all the staff to leave it be, he'll get to it eventually), as Camilla takes her leave with Beruka and Serena in tow (his heart aches, watching the two wyverns with their riders take to the skies, and he only imagines Leo feels worse), as he regains his strength and is officially sworn as Leo’s third retainer. Sometimes it's a lie to chase off worries, other times the truth. But usually just a reassurance to himself, to remind himself that the only way now is forward, despite how easily it might be to fall back and dwell on Xander, Elise, and Peri.
It's the same as when his mother and father died, or his friends' parents – think too long, or too hard, and his feet would get stuck in the muck of nostalgia. Now that he has something – someone, too – to work for, he can't afford the luxury of dwelling in the past.
Sure, this means he's not letting himself mourn completely, but it's fine. Right? He's spent far too long dead to the world for his taste.
Having finished his assigned tasks, he knocks firmly on the door to Leo's room. Maybe Leo could give him more busy work, or something. ] Milord, it's Laslow. May I come in?