[ Another nod. They'll listen to whatever story he wants to share with them. And they'll stay as long as possible. They will, of course.. leave when others come visit, hang outside the church to give them space and room to talk...
But the moment Lucas is alone, they'll come back, and accompany him. Until he needs rest. Until they can no longer stay here, and they'll simply wait outside until the next stage is made and the next script to follow is given.
However, while they do have time, they'll listen to whatever he wants to tell them. ]
[He'll weave them beautiful stories. Heartfelt ones, warm ones, cozy ones, silly ones. Some are tinged with melancholy, just by the nature of their island and their island's works, but not overly-much. Not to the point of overwhelming anything else. Lucas does think that people have had enough of all of this, after all. Enough of the loss and grief and sadness and anger and helplessness. It doesn't need to be in their stories, too.
So he'll talk, and he'll talk, and whenever they leave he gives a polite nod, and he greets them warmly whenever they come back, always welcoming. He'll hold their hands and pet and pat and stroke their hat, sit with them on opposite sides of the bars or stand if they need to move about. It's like until they can't stay, because Lucas doesn't rest tonight. He'll spend the last of his time on this side with the friends he's made and cherishes so dearly.
And once they do finally part, he just gives their hands one last squeeze and says, simply:]
Dear Siffrin... It's my honor to have come to know you here, and to call you a friend. Please be well in the time we're apart. We'll all meet again soon.
[ It shows in the way they don't want to leave. Because they know when they do, the expulsion will come, Lucas and.. whoever ends up there, will be made to play their roles until the every end and there won't be Lucas on the viewing deck to come stand by. No Yves to reach over and tuck them into his side.
Even if letters will come, even if eventually they can and will possibly see one another again... it doesn't lessen the ache. The way their chest feels as though it's being ripped from the inside out because they have become so, so incredibly attached to these people. They wish they could change it. They wish they could stop it, they wish....
Their vision blurs a little, trying to intake their next breath, swallow down those heavier emotions. A small shake of their head. His honor? If anything, they were lucky to have met him. To been able to know even a bit of his life, of where he's from, of his family with his sister.. Siffrin should be thanking him. But they can't. No matter how much they try, no words can be uttered. Even if they could, they wouldn't be able to tell the truth of how much the idea of him leaving is digging deep and twisting an ache that sits heavy.
Their hands can do nothing more than helplessly tighten. Don't go. Don't go. ]
[Ah, it would have been so much better if he'd just been able to finish what he'd started. If he'd just been able to work a little harder, be a little better, then maybe Siffrin wouldn't be here right now, holding his hands through the bars, clutching at him like they don't want to ever let go.
There's a thread of guilt somewhere in his heart, but he lays it to rest. Here and now, it isn't about him. It isn't about his wishes, or his feelings; it's only about what he can and can't do for those he's already hurt with his mistakes. He wants to mend. Instead of hurting, he wants to mend.
So he leans forward, and through the bars, he places a gentle kiss against their forehead. Soft and fond, like an elder brother, like a caretaker, like a teacher, like someone who holds those within his life so dear. And he'll hold their hands tightly, too, until he no longer can.]
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But the moment Lucas is alone, they'll come back, and accompany him. Until he needs rest. Until they can no longer stay here, and they'll simply wait outside until the next stage is made and the next script to follow is given.
However, while they do have time, they'll listen to whatever he wants to tell them. ]
no subject
So he'll talk, and he'll talk, and whenever they leave he gives a polite nod, and he greets them warmly whenever they come back, always welcoming. He'll hold their hands and pet and pat and stroke their hat, sit with them on opposite sides of the bars or stand if they need to move about. It's like until they can't stay, because Lucas doesn't rest tonight. He'll spend the last of his time on this side with the friends he's made and cherishes so dearly.
And once they do finally part, he just gives their hands one last squeeze and says, simply:]
Dear Siffrin... It's my honor to have come to know you here, and to call you a friend. Please be well in the time we're apart. We'll all meet again soon.
no subject
Even if letters will come, even if eventually they can and will possibly see one another again... it doesn't lessen the ache. The way their chest feels as though it's being ripped from the inside out because they have become so, so incredibly attached to these people. They wish they could change it. They wish they could stop it, they wish....
Their vision blurs a little, trying to intake their next breath, swallow down those heavier emotions. A small shake of their head. His honor? If anything, they were lucky to have met him. To been able to know even a bit of his life, of where he's from, of his family with his sister.. Siffrin should be thanking him. But they can't. No matter how much they try, no words can be uttered. Even if they could, they wouldn't be able to tell the truth of how much the idea of him leaving is digging deep and twisting an ache that sits heavy.
Their hands can do nothing more than helplessly tighten. Don't go. Don't go. ]
no subject
There's a thread of guilt somewhere in his heart, but he lays it to rest. Here and now, it isn't about him. It isn't about his wishes, or his feelings; it's only about what he can and can't do for those he's already hurt with his mistakes. He wants to mend. Instead of hurting, he wants to mend.
So he leans forward, and through the bars, he places a gentle kiss against their forehead. Soft and fond, like an elder brother, like a caretaker, like a teacher, like someone who holds those within his life so dear. And he'll hold their hands tightly, too, until he no longer can.]