| YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THE THINGS I HEAR AND SEE. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I FEEL FROM THEM. | |
Vladimir was surprised she took the touch, and more surprised that she leaned into him, but he allowed it, his revulsion could wait, it would be fine, for now, all he could hear were the wails of others. She cried with the spirits, and if not for the mortal feel to the wails, she would sound just like those he could hear around him.
He closed his eyes and listened, ears moving softly as the wind carried the sounds around them, up until Ursula spoke to him, his eyes remained closed. The ruby eyes opened slowly and looked at the grave. How could he tell her he feels it daily, that his own once and still does cut him so deep, deeper than the Gibdo that ripped him apart could ever cut him? That this writhing, cutting, squeezing pain was just a part of his daily life.
Vlad was always so much more vulnerable to his large emotions than his companion, Dalvidyl was. He could mask them, but he felt them, cried when no one was around. He listened to her whimper as the emotions rushed back in to take her, and sat there for a moment, unsure of what to say. He knew many different pains, lived them, but he knew the one she felt, albeit a different form.
"Yes." He eventually spoke, letting Ursula rest against his marred, damaged body. He couldn't
feel her, but he could feel the weight of her.
"I lost my mother when I was around six years old." His voice was even, he had to keep it even. He had to.
"I mourned. Was told I bit the master, kicked him in the ribs. Anything so I wouldn't be separated from her." He swallowed, taking a deep breath.
Did he ever truly get over it? The sudden loss of his ill mother? A young child, waking up to the still form of the only thing that held meaning to the small being? Suddenly ripped away from him, to be placed in the dirt, a spirit to join those forever wandering that valley while he was taken to grow up to be everything he hated with the people he hated. Discover two friends, dear to his heart, to leave them behind like he left a part of him behind with them.
A hollow shell he became, shoving those memories deep down, and now he mourned again. A part of his heart returned, but bearing news that Talla was gone. A necklace that once belonged to her hung around his neck, under his shirt. An eye of truth on a leather string.
"I'm... still not over it." Keep it together Vlad. Another deep breath, he anchored himself. He had to.
"No parent..." He took another breath, steadying himself once again.
"Should have to bear the loss of a child." Words he spoke to mourning parents. Graves he loathed to dig. The loss of a life so fragile and young that it's spirit wasn't even strong enough to linger. Moving them on was easy enough should they somehow linger, but still, every body buried, regardless of age, was an experience that filled him empathetic grief.
Pain beyond belief as the suffering of others seemed to permeate his cold exterior. His therapist had words for how he could so easily read the emotions of a room, and take on the grieving of others in his own heart despite his own seeming lack of emotions. His own were big, difficult to control, so he had to learn how to shell them down. But even now, Ursula's grief and the recollection of his own pain were too much, and the Sheikah reached up to rub under his watering eyes.
"It's ok... It's always ok to feel this way. This pain is normal. A good sign. It's good to feel this pain, as much as it hurts, so you can move forward."▲
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