[ He's quick to shake his head. Of course that's not what he thought. From the moment he chose to enter, he knew the championship would be difficult— not only physically, but for the emotions it represented, the guilt and grief wrapped up in the package of his history. Win or lose, Kaveh was destined to come out of the competition hurting:
defeat, the crushing blow to his ego and the pain of failing to set things right after so many years; victory, stained and tarnished by long lost love, by the knowledge that the past can't be fixed by a dream, no matter how many tears he might shed; a hollow where his heart should be, either way.
It's just that Kaveh hoped, thought, believed with all his heart that he would at least have the tournament winnings to soothe the worst of it, the first ingredient of the panacea he's sought since he was merely a child. He was not expecting the headache from a voice pressing unbidden into his mind. The anger and helplessness borne of the knowledge of what truly befell his father. The depraved morality of a man so broken even he couldn't bring himself to agree. And so with his winnings signed over and the celebratory dinner done, the aching hollow is back once more—
Does he regret? No; not even for an instant. But the tears prickle at the corners of his eyes nevertheless, throat catching on so many words yet to be spoken. ]
No. I don't. I did what had to be done. [ Fingers unfurl from the tight press into his knee, reaching to take and give the cotton pads for which Alhaitham asks; the tremble that passes through him is evident in the movement, a hitched breath in place of a halted sob. ] I just... didn't expect it to be quite this hard.
[ The words aren't right, but for now they'll have to suffice. He falls silent, bracing himself for the inevitable stinging kiss of antiseptic against his wounds. ]
no subject
defeat, the crushing blow to his ego and the pain of failing to set things right after so many years;
victory, stained and tarnished by long lost love, by the knowledge that the past can't be fixed by a dream, no matter how many tears he might shed;
a hollow where his heart should be, either way.
It's just that Kaveh hoped, thought, believed with all his heart that he would at least have the tournament winnings to soothe the worst of it, the first ingredient of the panacea he's sought since he was merely a child. He was not expecting the headache from a voice pressing unbidden into his mind. The anger and helplessness borne of the knowledge of what truly befell his father. The depraved morality of a man so broken even he couldn't bring himself to agree. And so with his winnings signed over and the celebratory dinner done, the aching hollow is back once more—
Does he regret? No; not even for an instant. But the tears prickle at the corners of his eyes nevertheless, throat catching on so many words yet to be spoken. ]
No. I don't. I did what had to be done. [ Fingers unfurl from the tight press into his knee, reaching to take and give the cotton pads for which Alhaitham asks; the tremble that passes through him is evident in the movement, a hitched breath in place of a halted sob. ] I just... didn't expect it to be quite this hard.
[ The words aren't right, but for now they'll have to suffice. He falls silent, bracing himself for the inevitable stinging kiss of antiseptic against his wounds. ]