[All his life, the expectation to rule has hung above him, grown weightier with import after his family had died. Even the secondary (primary) path of vengeance, slowly opening up to him after that fateful day, was still just that: a path to follow, to tread in-line perfectly so that the end result would be satisfactory, his purpose fulfilled. Dimitri does not consider the boundless potential of something like freedom, and unlike Oz, he does not seek it.
But he can still imagine it, to wander a great and open land, endless variety to every moment in every day. What is it like, to not know what awaits you the next day, or to have no goal carved out for yourself that you must stringently follow? He cannot fathom it, and he does not think he would ever be tempted by it, but it’s a tantalizing thought. Novel in its impossibility.
For him, at least. For Oz, he hopes he can find it. Unshackle himself from a mercenary lifestyle, to that of a grand and glorious role of adventurer.
He would say as much, at least, but suddenly the world opens up beneath the myriad of stars, a foreign vista that silences him into shock. He has never seen a building like the one in the distance, its silhouette strange to his eyes. This is not the land surrounding Garreg Mach, not with its undulating hills and intermittent pillars jutting up from the earth. The split of desert and mountains, depending on which direction he looks.
Dimitri glances behind him, and the monastery is still there, quiet as a sentinel.]
This is— your home?
[He looks at Oz, wide-eyed, the moonlight adding a pale luster to Dimitri’s skin.]
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But he can still imagine it, to wander a great and open land, endless variety to every moment in every day. What is it like, to not know what awaits you the next day, or to have no goal carved out for yourself that you must stringently follow? He cannot fathom it, and he does not think he would ever be tempted by it, but it’s a tantalizing thought. Novel in its impossibility.
For him, at least. For Oz, he hopes he can find it. Unshackle himself from a mercenary lifestyle, to that of a grand and glorious role of adventurer.
He would say as much, at least, but suddenly the world opens up beneath the myriad of stars, a foreign vista that silences him into shock. He has never seen a building like the one in the distance, its silhouette strange to his eyes. This is not the land surrounding Garreg Mach, not with its undulating hills and intermittent pillars jutting up from the earth. The split of desert and mountains, depending on which direction he looks.
Dimitri glances behind him, and the monastery is still there, quiet as a sentinel.]
This is— your home?
[He looks at Oz, wide-eyed, the moonlight adding a pale luster to Dimitri’s skin.]