Felih's ears draw back in hurt, in disappointment. Perhaps... perhaps Francel is right. Perhaps it was too late, but- is there harm in trying?
Maybe there was. Felih felt as if he was sure of little and less, these days.
"I'm sorry," Felih murmurs again. "I never... wished to hurt you. You are a treasured friend to me, still, though my- my cowardice has made me distant in the wake of our loss." His tail tucks between his legs, defeated. "If you would rather I- I sever our ties, I... would not blame you." He says it with great hesitance.
Felih, at heart, is clan-oriented. He is only the people who care for him, who he cares for, and without others, he is lost and aimless. It hurts to break a bond, but if it would ease the mourning man's heart...
At last Francel stops mutilating his flowers, though only because he has no more flowers to ruin; tearing his hand out from beneath Felih's, he throws the decimated stalks over the cliffside.
He tells himself that he should not do this. Not here, especially; not in front of Haurchefant's monument. But then, Francel knows as well as anyone that the monument is naught but cold stone. Marble that he bought and paid for. And the epitaph beneath Haurchefant's name was something that he chose for himself.
"What do you want from me, Felih Tia?" he asks, in a voice finally his own: dry and crackling with thunderous rage. "Do you think me a priest to give you absolution? Would you have me tell you that all is well? That I have found happiness? That I endeavor to smile because that is what he would have wanted?"
This is the man he really is, he reminds himself: the man who left Ishgard for cold vengeance, the man who would have died to defend the reputation of a faltering family. All such talk of piety and selflessness are lies.
"Spare me," he snaps. "I knew what he wanted. He wanted you."
Felih flinches, but doesn't back away, ears low as he takes the berating, the anger, and hears the way Francel's voice finally begins to crack and raise, the emotion springing loose after, perhaps, years of silence.
"I merely wanted your truth," he says quietly afterwards, ears pinned back. "I wanted you to- be honest. You put on such a fine mask- after all, you have such burdens, such hopes and weights on you, you must present a strong face." Felih knows this feeling well. "It pained me, seeing you like that. In the wake of everything- it seems... as if you were not allowed to mourn fully." Francel had as much right as Felih, if not more, to mourn and scream and curse the gods and all who conspired to bring about Haurchefant's death.
Felih had gotten to tear Zephirin's heart out with his own claws, but it was a hollow victory. Zephirin's heart would not bring his mate back.
It's the final words that render him stunned and speechless, fur bristling in shock, heart clenching in his chest.
Oh.
Gods... how could I be so blind?
Haurchefant's dearest, closest friend...
His hands tremble.
Well, I suppose neither of us got what we wanted then, did we?
"What does it matter now, when he is lost to us both?" he says, voice breaking, agony on his face as tears finally spill over.
“Precisely,” Francel replies. “It doesn’t matter. It never did.”
With obstinate cruelty, he turns his back on Felih’s tears; he has no heart for them, indeed no heart at all. The Warrior of Light might well have clawed Francel’s heart out alongside the valorous Ser Zephirin’s.
“Tell yourself whatever lies you’d like,” he says. “Pretend I have forgiven everything, if that is what you wish. Only leave me in peace.”
Felih has to clench his teeth to keep himself from sobbing, ears flat against his hair as he watches his former friend turn his back to him, his words cutting through deeply, chest aching. He forces himself to keep standing, even though he just wants to curl back up to his mate's memorial.
"...Lies are no comfort. Only truths. And here is mine: had I known- had I known... things would be different. I never meant to- to... I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."
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valoirs
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Maybe there was. Felih felt as if he was sure of little and less, these days.
"I'm sorry," Felih murmurs again. "I never... wished to hurt you. You are a treasured friend to me, still, though my- my cowardice has made me distant in the wake of our loss." His tail tucks between his legs, defeated. "If you would rather I- I sever our ties, I... would not blame you." He says it with great hesitance.
Felih, at heart, is clan-oriented. He is only the people who care for him, who he cares for, and without others, he is lost and aimless. It hurts to break a bond, but if it would ease the mourning man's heart...
no subject
He tells himself that he should not do this. Not here, especially; not in front of Haurchefant's monument. But then, Francel knows as well as anyone that the monument is naught but cold stone. Marble that he bought and paid for. And the epitaph beneath Haurchefant's name was something that he chose for himself.
"What do you want from me, Felih Tia?" he asks, in a voice finally his own: dry and crackling with thunderous rage. "Do you think me a priest to give you absolution? Would you have me tell you that all is well? That I have found happiness? That I endeavor to smile because that is what he would have wanted?"
This is the man he really is, he reminds himself: the man who left Ishgard for cold vengeance, the man who would have died to defend the reputation of a faltering family. All such talk of piety and selflessness are lies.
"Spare me," he snaps. "I knew what he wanted. He wanted you."
no subject
"I merely wanted your truth," he says quietly afterwards, ears pinned back. "I wanted you to- be honest. You put on such a fine mask- after all, you have such burdens, such hopes and weights on you, you must present a strong face." Felih knows this feeling well. "It pained me, seeing you like that. In the wake of everything- it seems... as if you were not allowed to mourn fully." Francel had as much right as Felih, if not more, to mourn and scream and curse the gods and all who conspired to bring about Haurchefant's death.
Felih had gotten to tear Zephirin's heart out with his own claws, but it was a hollow victory. Zephirin's heart would not bring his mate back.
It's the final words that render him stunned and speechless, fur bristling in shock, heart clenching in his chest.
Oh.
Gods... how could I be so blind?
Haurchefant's dearest, closest friend...
His hands tremble.
Well, I suppose neither of us got what we wanted then, did we?
"What does it matter now, when he is lost to us both?" he says, voice breaking, agony on his face as tears finally spill over.
no subject
With obstinate cruelty, he turns his back on Felih’s tears; he has no heart for them, indeed no heart at all. The Warrior of Light might well have clawed Francel’s heart out alongside the valorous Ser Zephirin’s.
“Tell yourself whatever lies you’d like,” he says. “Pretend I have forgiven everything, if that is what you wish. Only leave me in peace.”
no subject
"...Lies are no comfort. Only truths. And here is mine: had I known- had I known... things would be different. I never meant to- to... I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."
"...I'll do as you wish."