[He looks a little hushed to awe, at the words he speaks.
They donโt say it, but they feel that.
That is what he had always hoped. That the Mute felt it, felt how much he valued his company and how he appreciated how often he listened to his relentless ramblings. But it's more than just that โ Pete's words leave him feeling a little proud, because... because the man's saying such kind things about him, and he's not sure how to process such a thing.]
... Thank you, Pete.
I think... you two are alike enough that I can trust your word.
[He knows nothing of Pete's past, of course, other than that he was a soldier. But such a thing... it does something to people. It certainly did something to his dear friend from home. And now that Diarmuid faces dangers so often... he feels maybe he's trapped in the whirlpool violence and death and fighting for one's life causes, in a similar enough way that he feels closer than he had before his pilgrimage.
He feels his throat tighten, eyes glistening a little under heavy curled bangs.]
I used to tease him about being such a shadow, sometimes; I never minded it, but I did tease, just to see his unimpressed glances. I never understood why he'd been so wary until I'd stepped out into the world he'd floated in from. Saw the things he'd seen. Even just a fraction of it... [He rubs his eye, one corner with a sleeve, then the next; you didn't see anything there, Pete. Don't even mention it.] I wish I could have had the chance to thank him.
I hope he knew that, as well. That I was grateful. I'm terrified that he didn't.
[ he doesnโt know how much his words might resonate; he didnโt know this man, and for all that they look the same, their minds and their pasts werenโt the same, and frank couldnโt exactly pretend to know exactly how heโd felt.
but he knows those eyes that mimic his own, and he knows diarmuid. with those two factors in mind, he thinks he can at least put some of the pieces together.
he catches a faint hint of those fallen tears, but as the boy wipes them away, he wonโt draw attention to it. ]
From what youโre saying, he stuck by you. Through whatever shit that came and hit you, he was there, and so were you. That โ that tells you right there, he knew.
[ he goes quiet briefly, a silent sight as he casts his eyes low once more, lip curling thoughtfully into his mouth as he considers. but within a few beats, heโs moving his own feet, shuffling over to where he has a jacket of his tossed over the back of the couch. reaching within, he pulls out a slightly crumpled paper โ a photograph โ pieces all taped together as if itโd been once ripped and overused.
stepping back over to the boy, he holds the picture to him in turn, his eyes set on the trio upon it. ]
Thatโs ... thatโs my family. I lost them pretty suddenly, and I โ I guess for a long time, sometimes even now, I get scared about the things I never had the chance to say. Things I didnโt do because I thought Iโd have time for it. [ his nose scrunches, taking a necessary deep breath, gaze still turned away. ] But, yโknow, the people you got in your lives, the ones who stay close, the ones you care about, theyโre the ones who know. Whatever you didnโt get to say, it doesnโt matter, because they were the ones who knew it better than anybody.
[Diarmuid's never really thought about 'family'. Not the same kind of family Pete's holding out to him right now โ he had devoted himself to the people who raised him, had sworn away love, lust, or the promise of someone to pass along his wisdoms and adoration. He was okay with it, because he never really knew what it was like to begin with โ and you cannot miss something you'd never had, not really.
Not in the same way Pete misses his family so clearly. The look on his face as he passes Diarmuid the picture says it well enough. Diarmuid feels this horrible weariness fall across his shoulders, as heavy as a lead blanket, but he's ever so careful at holding the memories of a lost family in his hands. This time he does let a tear drip down his face, because it's easier to weep for someone else's loss than his own. What a true nightmare, to wake up and know the world you had made is gone.
He thinks about his own family. What's left of it. What's been reduced to...
Will life ever be so simple again, as it was on the shores of Kilmannรกn?
He thinks not. There is no peace upon this earth, not now, not ever.
But... But surely they can lessen the blow life delivers.
They can be good and decent and kind. He smiles a little.]
... What a blessing they were on this world of ours.
Its thanks would not be enough.
[He's not sure what to say that won't make things more difficult for Pete. He's already probably making this visit worse than it needed to be โ more painful. He'd just rushed over to show him a picture, and now he's gone and dug up painful things, things the man probably had no want to explore this day. His heart feels swollen in his chest, like it may burst from his ribs.
He looks to him, swallowing hard.]
I'd lost my family as well, not so long ago. It was โ it wasn't like yours. It wasn't normal, but... they'd raised me since since I was the smallest creature. Their loss weighs on me, and I still see the very moments their spirits flew, when I sleep at night.
But... I suppose my strongest solace is knowing there is nothing they need fear any longer.
That they created who I am, and so thrive as fragments of myself.
[He puts the photo back in Pete's hand, looking down in what seems to be shame.]
[ frank sees the tear slip across diarmuidโs cheek and his own chest tightens from the guilt of it. but heโd wanted to present some honesty, some part of himself thatโs genuine, with all that the kidโs placed some trust in him, whether misguided or not.
heโs not going to be a replacement for his friend, he doesnโt intend to be, but he can still try to look out for him when it mattered.
especially when itโs clear heโs lost so much of his own, and tries his damn hardest to keep his spirits up despite it. kidโs a lot stronger than he is, frank knows that much. ]
Donโt be sorry, kid. [ he shakes his head, peering down at the picture in his hand when diarmuid returns it. ] Sometimes I โ with how long itโs been, I worry sometimes about forgetting. Itโs good to talk about it, yโknow. Every now and then.
[ raising his head again, his lips are parted, eyes shifting slightly as if in thought about his next words before he speaks them. ]
So ... so thanks for this. And for showing me that picture of yours. I know it means a lot to you.
[Diarmuid smiles, rubbing his face with his sleeve.]
We won't forget.
But we should not also forget... it would be a grave sin, that we die with our dead โ that we dishonor them by closing ourselves off in whatever life we may have left in our lungs.
[Collecting the box of polaroids, he looks at him more confidently, even if the tear track on his cheek still somewhat glistens in the light.]
[ he doesnโt like being this exposed, to have someone peering at him when heโs mentally in such a vulnerable place, but diarmuid has uncoated something and it leaves him no place to hide, the words striking at the very thing that heโd attempted again and again for so long. ]
Yeah. [ he responds with his voice low, eyes turned away before they finally rise to look back, pairing it with a nod that follows.
he remains silent for a moment before he finally reaches over, his palm bracing over the boyโs head before he gives his hair a slight shuffle. ] I think youโre right.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
They donโt say it, but they feel that.
That is what he had always hoped. That the Mute felt it, felt how much he valued his company and how he appreciated how often he listened to his relentless ramblings. But it's more than just that โ Pete's words leave him feeling a little proud, because... because the man's saying such kind things about him, and he's not sure how to process such a thing.]
... Thank you, Pete.
I think... you two are alike enough that I can trust your word.
[He knows nothing of Pete's past, of course, other than that he was a soldier. But such a thing... it does something to people. It certainly did something to his dear friend from home. And now that Diarmuid faces dangers so often... he feels maybe he's trapped in the whirlpool violence and death and fighting for one's life causes, in a similar enough way that he feels closer than he had before his pilgrimage.
He feels his throat tighten, eyes glistening a little under heavy curled bangs.]
I used to tease him about being such a shadow, sometimes; I never minded it, but I did tease, just to see his unimpressed glances. I never understood why he'd been so wary until I'd stepped out into the world he'd floated in from. Saw the things he'd seen. Even just a fraction of it... [He rubs his eye, one corner with a sleeve, then the next; you didn't see anything there, Pete. Don't even mention it.] I wish I could have had the chance to thank him.
I hope he knew that, as well. That I was grateful. I'm terrified that he didn't.
no subject
but he knows those eyes that mimic his own, and he knows diarmuid. with those two factors in mind, he thinks he can at least put some of the pieces together.
he catches a faint hint of those fallen tears, but as the boy wipes them away, he wonโt draw attention to it. ]
From what youโre saying, he stuck by you. Through whatever shit that came and hit you, he was there, and so were you. That โ that tells you right there, he knew.
[ he goes quiet briefly, a silent sight as he casts his eyes low once more, lip curling thoughtfully into his mouth as he considers. but within a few beats, heโs moving his own feet, shuffling over to where he has a jacket of his tossed over the back of the couch. reaching within, he pulls out a slightly crumpled paper โ a photograph โ pieces all taped together as if itโd been once ripped and overused.
stepping back over to the boy, he holds the picture to him in turn, his eyes set on the trio upon it. ]
Thatโs ... thatโs my family. I lost them pretty suddenly, and I โ I guess for a long time, sometimes even now, I get scared about the things I never had the chance to say. Things I didnโt do because I thought Iโd have time for it. [ his nose scrunches, taking a necessary deep breath, gaze still turned away. ] But, yโknow, the people you got in your lives, the ones who stay close, the ones you care about, theyโre the ones who know. Whatever you didnโt get to say, it doesnโt matter, because they were the ones who knew it better than anybody.
no subject
Not in the same way Pete misses his family so clearly. The look on his face as he passes Diarmuid the picture says it well enough. Diarmuid feels this horrible weariness fall across his shoulders, as heavy as a lead blanket, but he's ever so careful at holding the memories of a lost family in his hands. This time he does let a tear drip down his face, because it's easier to weep for someone else's loss than his own. What a true nightmare, to wake up and know the world you had made is gone.
He thinks about his own family. What's left of it. What's been reduced to...
Will life ever be so simple again, as it was on the shores of Kilmannรกn?
He thinks not. There is no peace upon this earth, not now, not ever.
But... But surely they can lessen the blow life delivers.
They can be good and decent and kind. He smiles a little.]
... What a blessing they were on this world of ours.
Its thanks would not be enough.
[He's not sure what to say that won't make things more difficult for Pete. He's already probably making this visit worse than it needed to be โ more painful. He'd just rushed over to show him a picture, and now he's gone and dug up painful things, things the man probably had no want to explore this day. His heart feels swollen in his chest, like it may burst from his ribs.
He looks to him, swallowing hard.]
I'd lost my family as well, not so long ago. It was โ it wasn't like yours. It wasn't normal, but... they'd raised me since since I was the smallest creature. Their loss weighs on me, and I still see the very moments their spirits flew, when I sleep at night.
But... I suppose my strongest solace is knowing there is nothing they need fear any longer.
That they created who I am, and so thrive as fragments of myself.
[He puts the photo back in Pete's hand, looking down in what seems to be shame.]
I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for such a sad visit.
I spoke a little too thoughtlessly.
no subject
heโs not going to be a replacement for his friend, he doesnโt intend to be, but he can still try to look out for him when it mattered.
especially when itโs clear heโs lost so much of his own, and tries his damn hardest to keep his spirits up despite it. kidโs a lot stronger than he is, frank knows that much. ]
Donโt be sorry, kid. [ he shakes his head, peering down at the picture in his hand when diarmuid returns it. ] Sometimes I โ with how long itโs been, I worry sometimes about forgetting. Itโs good to talk about it, yโknow. Every now and then.
[ raising his head again, his lips are parted, eyes shifting slightly as if in thought about his next words before he speaks them. ]
So ... so thanks for this. And for showing me that picture of yours. I know it means a lot to you.
no subject
We won't forget.
But we should not also forget... it would be a grave sin, that we die with our dead โ that we dishonor them by closing ourselves off in whatever life we may have left in our lungs.
[Collecting the box of polaroids, he looks at him more confidently, even if the tear track on his cheek still somewhat glistens in the light.]
Don't you think?
no subject
Yeah. [ he responds with his voice low, eyes turned away before they finally rise to look back, pairing it with a nod that follows.
he remains silent for a moment before he finally reaches over, his palm bracing over the boyโs head before he gives his hair a slight shuffle. ] I think youโre right.