Roland immediately grows silent. Mouth open and closing, eventually staying shut. Inigo, it's not a story you need to concern yourself with. It's a long tale, without relevance. He's always been someone who worked best when he focused on what was in front of him, not what he left behind. It's why the nightmares come so easily. Push your darkness back enough and they'll make a home for themselves at the depths, tendrils reaching out for the light like nourishment to corrupt.
This however, was different from the Memory Lane. This was different from the island that stole his inner world from him. This, the boy holding his hands, asking to be let in, is Inigo. If he truly cared for him the way he cares for Will, then of all people, he had every right to know. Roland's pause is a significant, pregnant delay. For a time, he refuses to meet Inigo's eye as he steels himself for the task of speaking when his instincts are telling him to pull back and leave. Tongue like lead, throat dry, and Jumblie the sweet little thing, finding it in herself to encourage him too.
Eventually, he finds some peace in the act and goes about it carefully. Finally, lifting his eyes to look back at Inigo, focused on the shape of the Brand that colors his pupil to anchor him to what needs to be done. To share grief is to share a connection. At least this wouldn't be completely useless to Inigo.
So he begins his story with the end.
"When I was still in the first world, I wanted to unite every nation under one alliance. There was...a lot of talk about a global war, and all I wanted was to stop it." He only simplifies the modern terminologies for Inigo, but is otherwise candid with every other detail shared. "For a while, I thought it could be done. But somewhere along the way, maybe I upset another president without knowing it. Maybe I didn't work hard enough."
His brows furrow; his mind already there. Back home. The vision of nothing.
"On the day of a very important meeting with our allies, where I had hoped to formalize our Union..." Roland pauses, thinks about how to explain the concept of a nuke to someone from a halidom where swords and magic are more commonplace than technology. He doesn't linger on the nuance. Roland continues without missing too much of a beat, a ringing in his ears as if the missile went right past him. "...someone sent an unstoppable weapon flying into the sky, and that was it." Gone.
He breathes in deep. His expression falls stoic. An acceptance; but not peace. Then, sorrow floods his bones. Fills his waking heart with a throbbing pain he can't contain. It's Inigo holding him here that lends him some semblance of faith where he begins to falter. It's Inigo that allows Roland to say what he refuses to hear from his own lips.
"I would have died with my people, but I was saved last minute by some sort of ancient magic. I discovered another world, closely tied with my own. It's why I'm old on the inside, but I don't look like it from the outside. And why I have to keep working hard because I don't really know where I'll go if this train takes me away again. The first world, the second..." He laughs mirthlessly. "If it just so happens that I go back to the land I once ruled...well."
Roland nods. Acceptance. Not peace. His smile is oddly sincere.
"I'm ready, either way. That's why...I know a little bit of what it's like too. Not knowing where you'll go. But I'll keep at it. Just like you, and Gerome, and all of your friends fighting to save the world. Come what may."
no subject
Roland immediately grows silent. Mouth open and closing, eventually staying shut. Inigo, it's not a story you need to concern yourself with. It's a long tale, without relevance. He's always been someone who worked best when he focused on what was in front of him, not what he left behind. It's why the nightmares come so easily. Push your darkness back enough and they'll make a home for themselves at the depths, tendrils reaching out for the light like nourishment to corrupt.
This however, was different from the Memory Lane. This was different from the island that stole his inner world from him. This, the boy holding his hands, asking to be let in, is Inigo. If he truly cared for him the way he cares for Will, then of all people, he had every right to know. Roland's pause is a significant, pregnant delay. For a time, he refuses to meet Inigo's eye as he steels himself for the task of speaking when his instincts are telling him to pull back and leave. Tongue like lead, throat dry, and Jumblie the sweet little thing, finding it in herself to encourage him too.
Eventually, he finds some peace in the act and goes about it carefully. Finally, lifting his eyes to look back at Inigo, focused on the shape of the Brand that colors his pupil to anchor him to what needs to be done. To share grief is to share a connection. At least this wouldn't be completely useless to Inigo.
So he begins his story with the end.
"When I was still in the first world, I wanted to unite every nation under one alliance. There was...a lot of talk about a global war, and all I wanted was to stop it." He only simplifies the modern terminologies for Inigo, but is otherwise candid with every other detail shared. "For a while, I thought it could be done. But somewhere along the way, maybe I upset another president without knowing it. Maybe I didn't work hard enough."
His brows furrow; his mind already there. Back home. The vision of nothing.
"On the day of a very important meeting with our allies, where I had hoped to formalize our Union..." Roland pauses, thinks about how to explain the concept of a nuke to someone from a halidom where swords and magic are more commonplace than technology. He doesn't linger on the nuance. Roland continues without missing too much of a beat, a ringing in his ears as if the missile went right past him. "...someone sent an unstoppable weapon flying into the sky, and that was it." Gone.
He breathes in deep. His expression falls stoic. An acceptance; but not peace. Then, sorrow floods his bones. Fills his waking heart with a throbbing pain he can't contain. It's Inigo holding him here that lends him some semblance of faith where he begins to falter. It's Inigo that allows Roland to say what he refuses to hear from his own lips.
"I would have died with my people, but I was saved last minute by some sort of ancient magic. I discovered another world, closely tied with my own. It's why I'm old on the inside, but I don't look like it from the outside. And why I have to keep working hard because I don't really know where I'll go if this train takes me away again. The first world, the second..." He laughs mirthlessly. "If it just so happens that I go back to the land I once ruled...well."
Roland nods. Acceptance. Not peace. His smile is oddly sincere.
"I'm ready, either way. That's why...I know a little bit of what it's like too. Not knowing where you'll go. But I'll keep at it. Just like you, and Gerome, and all of your friends fighting to save the world. Come what may."