[He wonders if he should have said anything. If he should have let Byleth search — just for a while longer — instead of snatching away that hope. He feels terrible for it, watching her countenance fall just a small bit. His eye trails to the bag she carries, and he wonders just how many items are in it. Just how many belong to old students now entrenched on the other side of the war.
His experience is different than hers. Five years were unkind to him, and they passed so slowly, left its scars mentally and physically on his form, but the Professor— He cannot imagine what it must be like to wake up and to find the whole world changed, and all the people you cared for changed with it. Like unearthing oneself from a dream.
No, he should have let her look for that owner of the ribbon, for just a little longer.]
I—
[He had opened his mouth to correct himself, to offer some kind of comfort if he could manage, but she’s suddenly offering her hand to him, palm-up.]
My hand?
[He asks, even as he’s already offering his own to her. It’s a habit at this point, isn’t it? She’s always reaching out to him, and finally, he’s learned to grasp it in return. Self-awareness comes later, but instinct and trust move him first, knowing that same hand has acted as his lifeline, has saved his life on countless occasions.]
Forgive me, Professor, I was not trying to upset you. [-the addendum is quickly latched on to reflect his prior thoughts.]
no subject
His experience is different than hers. Five years were unkind to him, and they passed so slowly, left its scars mentally and physically on his form, but the Professor— He cannot imagine what it must be like to wake up and to find the whole world changed, and all the people you cared for changed with it. Like unearthing oneself from a dream.
No, he should have let her look for that owner of the ribbon, for just a little longer.]
I—
[He had opened his mouth to correct himself, to offer some kind of comfort if he could manage, but she’s suddenly offering her hand to him, palm-up.]
My hand?
[He asks, even as he’s already offering his own to her. It’s a habit at this point, isn’t it? She’s always reaching out to him, and finally, he’s learned to grasp it in return. Self-awareness comes later, but instinct and trust move him first, knowing that same hand has acted as his lifeline, has saved his life on countless occasions.]
Forgive me, Professor, I was not trying to upset you. [-the addendum is quickly latched on to reflect his prior thoughts.]