[He's unsure for a long moment, trying to let his mind sort out the scrambled thoughts rushing through it, feeling such mixed emotions. As they settle, he does the same as before: pulls himself up onto the stone fragment, helping her up to join him. Once they're standing in the dusty old ruins, he takes a few steps into it rather than staying outside of the memory, and rests a hand against the stone of one of the statues.
In that moment, he feels it with such astonishing intensity that his breath catches.]
It's... conflicting. They were so lonely here, tired and sore all the time. The training was hard. And- they were hungry, too. [His lips quirk a little. A series of featureless phantoms appear in the ruins, one after another, silhouettes in white working through a variety of combat forms, meditating, exploring the ruins.] But they were happy too. Some of them loved the work, to be needed, to help people... they were healers, handpicked by the gods. They sang and danced, they traveled the world. They weren't free to do whatever they wanted, but...
[His hand drops, turning to watch the silhouettes move. When they stumbled and fell, they pushed themselves back to their feet and kept working, over and over. Elegant and poised, graceful, the picture of strength. But some cried, pleading for relief before forging ahead with renewed strength. They were human, like any other; they felt grief and frustration in their darker moments, and still they shined.]
It was their duty, and they never shied away from it. They were... proud, but not arrogant. [His breath hitches a little once more, overwhelmed, as he catches himself.] They loved the world so much...
no subject
[He's unsure for a long moment, trying to let his mind sort out the scrambled thoughts rushing through it, feeling such mixed emotions. As they settle, he does the same as before: pulls himself up onto the stone fragment, helping her up to join him. Once they're standing in the dusty old ruins, he takes a few steps into it rather than staying outside of the memory, and rests a hand against the stone of one of the statues.
In that moment, he feels it with such astonishing intensity that his breath catches.]
It's... conflicting. They were so lonely here, tired and sore all the time. The training was hard. And- they were hungry, too. [His lips quirk a little. A series of featureless phantoms appear in the ruins, one after another, silhouettes in white working through a variety of combat forms, meditating, exploring the ruins.] But they were happy too. Some of them loved the work, to be needed, to help people... they were healers, handpicked by the gods. They sang and danced, they traveled the world. They weren't free to do whatever they wanted, but...
[His hand drops, turning to watch the silhouettes move. When they stumbled and fell, they pushed themselves back to their feet and kept working, over and over. Elegant and poised, graceful, the picture of strength. But some cried, pleading for relief before forging ahead with renewed strength. They were human, like any other; they felt grief and frustration in their darker moments, and still they shined.]
It was their duty, and they never shied away from it. They were... proud, but not arrogant. [His breath hitches a little once more, overwhelmed, as he catches himself.] They loved the world so much...