[ her expression remains cold, inscrutable. his fear, his war with himself, the shifting masks—it's all familiar, to be sure. she's seen edelgard's face effortlessly slip into and away from the emperor's mask more times than she cares to count.
she makes a simple noise of assent at his plea, looking away from him at her own battered hands. ]
No. The Emperor and I saw to that. [ not edelgard. certainly not el, not to this boy, the boar at war with his own demons, overcome by emotion; but that's the problem for both of them, isn't it, there's too much damned emotion and her heart is like endless thunder in her ears, she can't hear herself think, everything is fire and blood and rain and muck and she's still there—
the ashen demon is dead. edelgard saw to that, too. but sometimes, dead things, terrible as they may be, can be a comfort to wrap oneself in. she looks again at dimitri, eyes blank, distant. ]
no subject
she makes a simple noise of assent at his plea, looking away from him at her own battered hands. ]
No. The Emperor and I saw to that. [ not edelgard. certainly not el, not to this boy, the boar at war with his own demons, overcome by emotion; but that's the problem for both of them, isn't it, there's too much damned emotion and her heart is like endless thunder in her ears, she can't hear herself think, everything is fire and blood and rain and muck and she's still there—
the ashen demon is dead. edelgard saw to that, too. but sometimes, dead things, terrible as they may be, can be a comfort to wrap oneself in. she looks again at dimitri, eyes blank, distant. ]
The mad dragon's Church fell with her.