[ He does know it. More to the point, she knows perhaps better than his own self right now, and he both appreciates that and doesn't. He shouldn't need to be reminded of himself like this, why does he?
He's lost in a void, spinning out, directionless and uncertain, and there's...a tether in her, in someone reminding him of harder truths and forcibly tugging him back to the truth of himself in the same breath.
There's this awful gap of memories before his life began here in this world. Beyond knowing he had a place among the stars and a home out there, the rest is fuzzy, like static. A dreadful haunting nothingness. But somewhere in there, he knows (he thinks) he understood all of this, perhaps better than most. And he wanted to protect people from harm and sadness, but he couldn't, and still the universe turned, and still he tried.
He's always trying.
He didn't like endings — that was it. No endings, no pain — but she stands so near to him, a beacon of hope in her own way even if she'll never know it. A center of gravity, a measure of strength for him to hold onto while his mind tilts every which way and back.
Life is...all of it. It's meant to be. He's not supposed to run away.
His eyes lift to search hers for a moment, narrowing a little, but softening from the edge that was there — the hardness that wanted so desperately to reject what she's saying. ]
Why did I forget? Myself, I mean, I've forgotten — who I was meant to be.
[ He took away pain, he eased the shadows from the hearts of his followers, and in doing so, he took away the balance and what belonged to them. He did what he thought was best, and it was wrong, and he wants to say it now, to confess. ]
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He's lost in a void, spinning out, directionless and uncertain, and there's...a tether in her, in someone reminding him of harder truths and forcibly tugging him back to the truth of himself in the same breath.
There's this awful gap of memories before his life began here in this world. Beyond knowing he had a place among the stars and a home out there, the rest is fuzzy, like static. A dreadful haunting nothingness. But somewhere in there, he knows (he thinks) he understood all of this, perhaps better than most. And he wanted to protect people from harm and sadness, but he couldn't, and still the universe turned, and still he tried.
He's always trying.
He didn't like endings — that was it. No endings, no pain — but she stands so near to him, a beacon of hope in her own way even if she'll never know it. A center of gravity, a measure of strength for him to hold onto while his mind tilts every which way and back.
Life is...all of it. It's meant to be. He's not supposed to run away.
His eyes lift to search hers for a moment, narrowing a little, but softening from the edge that was there — the hardness that wanted so desperately to reject what she's saying. ]
Why did I forget? Myself, I mean, I've forgotten — who I was meant to be.
[ He took away pain, he eased the shadows from the hearts of his followers, and in doing so, he took away the balance and what belonged to them. He did what he thought was best, and it was wrong, and he wants to say it now, to confess. ]