You like ruins! [He throws up his hands, then drops them.] I think.
[This week has been a strange one. Simply pieces of his life that feel jagged where they once were rounded. And surely, Alucard's anger should surprise him -- it is so rare he truly sees (or feels, as he can certainly feel the hair rise on his arms) anything beyond a mild irritation. And further more than he should see Alucard's strength, so easily forgotten when he isn't carrying a several-hundred-pound beam or pillar up by himself.
(Some part of him likes it.)]
Are you not fucking tired of being bullied about by the dead? I know that I am. I am tired of their grip on my life when they have already spent their own. They dog everyone I know like shadows. They could not even respect the work we put into this place. Why should I care for their anger when their indifference hurts just as much?
[Jaskier may only be able to crush leaves, but when he looks down at them, the thought is almost exhilarating -- if only for a moment.] Perhaps the dead will finally be righteous against those who deserve the anger. But I've yet to see a body in Libertas rise to trudge its broken way to Thorne.
[It is not only the first time he has even mentioned the lives lost in Libertas so directly to Alucard, but that he has spoken of them directly to anyone. A legion of dead, revenge the power of their reanimation, moving against the Queen. Why does the world never create something so beautifully convenient?]
no subject
[This week has been a strange one. Simply pieces of his life that feel jagged where they once were rounded. And surely, Alucard's anger should surprise him -- it is so rare he truly sees (or feels, as he can certainly feel the hair rise on his arms) anything beyond a mild irritation. And further more than he should see Alucard's strength, so easily forgotten when he isn't carrying a several-hundred-pound beam or pillar up by himself.
(Some part of him likes it.)]
Are you not fucking tired of being bullied about by the dead? I know that I am. I am tired of their grip on my life when they have already spent their own. They dog everyone I know like shadows. They could not even respect the work we put into this place. Why should I care for their anger when their indifference hurts just as much?
[Jaskier may only be able to crush leaves, but when he looks down at them, the thought is almost exhilarating -- if only for a moment.] Perhaps the dead will finally be righteous against those who deserve the anger. But I've yet to see a body in Libertas rise to trudge its broken way to Thorne.
[It is not only the first time he has even mentioned the lives lost in Libertas so directly to Alucard, but that he has spoken of them directly to anyone. A legion of dead, revenge the power of their reanimation, moving against the Queen. Why does the world never create something so beautifully convenient?]