( he dips his head a bit — a nod, of a sort. his tone is dripping with something like wryness when he speaks, lowly, but any accusation is self-directed )
I've already known that I'm selfish, for a long time. When — ( hesitates, on the verge of something ) I don't remember if I've ever mentioned it, but I have a little sister. She's a sweet girl that anyone wouldn't be able to help getting along with! When she was small, though, we had to be separated for a long time.
( he speaks so easily of his little sister to people, his little sister; and when he talks about her it's normally the little girl he knew, who'd cry when she found bugs in the flowers or lost her favorite ribbon in the hallways somewhere, who needed her older brother, and less — though just as glowingly when he does — of the girl older than him now, prefect at school, a beautiful young woman. this is the closest he's ever come to directly admitting to someone how much of her life he's missed, lost in the dark for a decade. )
[ a familiar ache settles in her chest, and for the first time, she has to close her eye to keep it from watering.
because isn't it the same, for her?
it's been three years since she's seen rua, her twin brother, older by only an hour—but only (only) two and a half since rua, her older brother by nearly a decade. sure, he grew up with his sister, but he didn't grow up with her. she is, with every hour, growing up without him.
even if she returns to the city from here, to the same moment and day, there's no guarantee that she will ever see him again. she's known that for a long time, now. and if he arrives here... there's no telling who he would be. someone who had never come to the city in the first place. someone who'd grown up, had a family, had a future of his own. someone she would have to call a younger brother.
the chasm is wide, and can only be made wider.
without looking at him, ruka swallows, as though that could kill a grief like this. ]
Ah, ( he laughs, and that's what he does isn't it ) it was a long time before I even had an opportunity to meet her again. But even when I had it, I didn't want to take it. If it weren't for someone else, I probably wouldn't have. I'd thought, if she doesn't remember me, then —
( then, what; then, it'd be too painful to meet her. then, it'd maybe be for the best. she has her own life, and she got ten years away from all the troubles that hound his footsteps. scarcely half an hour in her presence again and she'd been endangered again (and again and again), and for all that she'd spoken of missing him, then and here, he still wonders if that was for the best. )
... A sister never forgets her older brother. No matter how long it's been.
[ it's empathy and confession, all at once. she releases the mug, instead folding her arms together on the table, left over right. ]
But I know what you mean. At least, I think I do. If you don't grow up together, then... things that were balanced before, won't be. So many things happen. Things once left in an endless sunlight are hidden, in the dark places nobody can see. Hopes, beliefs... even attitudes. They'll all be different. That person won't look at you with the same eyes. ... But, neither do you.
( the rest he only listens to, nods in acknowledgement and understanding. and how much bitterer, he thinks, it is when one's changed so much more than the other. the brother she described remembering is a far cry from what she must see now.
does he regret it? )
She wouldn't agree, of course, but it might've been better for her if I hadn't.
( he's selfish, remember, puts aside the desires she's expressed to him. she missed him then, wants to help him now; and yet and yet and yet she could've grown up properly, married someone who'd make a better heir to the dukedom anyway, never have to worry about the shadows that would have her older brother dead or worse. )
Or... to protect her feelings, for the brother she knew before?
[ soft, quiet, and far too understanding. they don't sound like selfish motivations when she says them, but isn't it selfish, to wish to preserve something you like about someone else, when they don't agree? ]
Ah, [ she says, a white crescent of a smile between her lips, and she nods once, wry. ] We're too much the same, I think. And a little mirrored.
[ she takes the final drink from her mug, and the tea is cold when it goes down. a shiver emerges from the depths of her, and when she sets the cup down, it sounds like an anchor on sand. ]
I have an older brother. I haven't mentioned him, either... but maybe you could guess something like that. ... I haven't seen him in three years.
Give or take a few months. [it's not like I'm counting, says the roll of her shoulders, but the wrinkle in her brow as she speaks has kept tally of the days. ]
When we were younger, he was always taking care of me. Protecting me, looking out for me... I depended on him for everything, in the end. But things changed, and he wasn't there to protect me anymore. A lot's happened to me, since then... even before coming here. I know I'm not the same person I used to be, but... it's hard, you know, to imagine him as anyone but the person who left. Who he was before he left, I mean. And he must think the same way of me, too. But the way things are now...
If I had the choice, if I could see him again... I don't know. I miss him, every day, but at the same time, I want to protect him, too. I want him to be happy, and free to follow his own dreams.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I've already known that I'm selfish, for a long time. When — ( hesitates, on the verge of something ) I don't remember if I've ever mentioned it, but I have a little sister. She's a sweet girl that anyone wouldn't be able to help getting along with! When she was small, though, we had to be separated for a long time.
no subject
[ with an unmentioned sibling of her own, ruka would have remembered such a close relation brought up before.
but the way he frames it, she can't predict where he'll go. selfish, because he didn't want to be separated? selfish because he did?
even for the easy praise, was theirs an unequal relationship, too? ]
What happened?
no subject
( he speaks so easily of his little sister to people, his little sister; and when he talks about her it's normally the little girl he knew, who'd cry when she found bugs in the flowers or lost her favorite ribbon in the hallways somewhere, who needed her older brother, and less — though just as glowingly when he does — of the girl older than him now, prefect at school, a beautiful young woman. this is the closest he's ever come to directly admitting to someone how much of her life he's missed, lost in the dark for a decade. )
no subject
because isn't it the same, for her?
it's been three years since she's seen rua, her twin brother, older by only an hour—but only (only) two and a half since rua, her older brother by nearly a decade. sure, he grew up with his sister, but he didn't grow up with her. she is, with every hour, growing up without him.
even if she returns to the city from here, to the same moment and day, there's no guarantee that she will ever see him again. she's known that for a long time, now. and if he arrives here... there's no telling who he would be. someone who had never come to the city in the first place. someone who'd grown up, had a family, had a future of his own. someone she would have to call a younger brother.
the chasm is wide, and can only be made wider.
without looking at him, ruka swallows, as though that could kill a grief like this. ]
How does that make you selfish?
no subject
( then, what; then, it'd be too painful to meet her. then, it'd maybe be for the best. she has her own life, and she got ten years away from all the troubles that hound his footsteps. scarcely half an hour in her presence again and she'd been endangered again (and again and again), and for all that she'd spoken of missing him, then and here, he still wonders if that was for the best. )
no subject
[ it's empathy and confession, all at once. she releases the mug, instead folding her arms together on the table, left over right. ]
But I know what you mean. At least, I think I do. If you don't grow up together, then... things that were balanced before, won't be. So many things happen. Things once left in an endless sunlight are hidden, in the dark places nobody can see. Hopes, beliefs... even attitudes. They'll all be different. That person won't look at you with the same eyes. ... But, neither do you.
... Do you regret it? Meeting her again?
no subject
( the rest he only listens to, nods in acknowledgement and understanding. and how much bitterer, he thinks, it is when one's changed so much more than the other. the brother she described remembering is a far cry from what she must see now.
does he regret it? )
She wouldn't agree, of course, but it might've been better for her if I hadn't.
( he's selfish, remember, puts aside the desires she's expressed to him. she missed him then, wants to help him now; and yet and yet and yet she could've grown up properly, married someone who'd make a better heir to the dukedom anyway, never have to worry about the shadows that would have her older brother dead or worse. )
no subject
Or... to protect her feelings, for the brother she knew before?
[ soft, quiet, and far too understanding. they don't sound like selfish motivations when she says them, but isn't it selfish, to wish to preserve something you like about someone else, when they don't agree? ]
no subject
from all of that and more; from trouble and danger and people who should never have been born — to let her enjoy the sunlight, worry-free. )
no subject
[ she takes the final drink from her mug, and the tea is cold when it goes down. a shiver emerges from the depths of her, and when she sets the cup down, it sounds like an anchor on sand. ]
I have an older brother. I haven't mentioned him, either... but maybe you could guess something like that. ... I haven't seen him in three years.
Give or take a few months. [ it's not like I'm counting, says the roll of her shoulders, but the wrinkle in her brow as she speaks has kept tally of the days. ]
When we were younger, he was always taking care of me. Protecting me, looking out for me... I depended on him for everything, in the end. But things changed, and he wasn't there to protect me anymore. A lot's happened to me, since then... even before coming here. I know I'm not the same person I used to be, but... it's hard, you know, to imagine him as anyone but the person who left. Who he was before he left, I mean. And he must think the same way of me, too. But the way things are now...
If I had the choice, if I could see him again... I don't know. I miss him, every day, but at the same time, I want to protect him, too. I want him to be happy, and free to follow his own dreams.
... Well. Maybe it's not the same.