There is a sudden sweep of grief across the room so tight it's nearly suffocating. The kind of thing that threatens the breath in someone's lungs, trapped in the cage of bone unable to escape because of words about emotion and weakness that their father had repeated so many times through the years that still, all these years later, even escaping it all the second he had a chance, filled every single inch of him. Every lesson so deeply drilled down into his bones that escaping the Academy had done nothing to make it go away, or stop being a party of every way he moved or thought or spoke anyway.
It's an equally sudden snap as it dissipates, a blank thing with no name replacing it-- because those things don't belong in the world, and they certainly don't happen in front of people. They belong in boxes he never touches, locked away to be ignored (but never forgotten, he would never forget).
"I don't wanna talk about it." He says, barely keeping the tremble out of his voice.
no subject
It's an equally sudden snap as it dissipates, a blank thing with no name replacing it-- because those things don't belong in the world, and they certainly don't happen in front of people. They belong in boxes he never touches, locked away to be ignored (but never forgotten, he would never forget).
"I don't wanna talk about it." He says, barely keeping the tremble out of his voice.