("There are things beyond the power of our changing...")
Gods, did it kill him to remember it. Just as it killed him to hear it, years ago. Yet perhaps he needed to hear it then... back when he still believed that he- that anyone could move mountains. That he, alone, could right the wrongs of the world itself on his own endeavor.
He wondered if Freya came to bear the weight of her world across her own back, as well.
"I fared no better, in the end," he spoke almost at a whisper as he peered out into the crowd. "I could forestall only the very worst of the war, and for all my labors I could not even save my family..."
Though she'd moved her hand off his shoulder, his hand soon fell upon hers in kind. He wished he could rouse her from her sorrow so easily, but... it wasn't his place. There was no room for platitudes or idle words of encouragement in what depths he could glimpse of it.
Yet... What familiar fathoms they were. And for her talk of failure, she stood too tall to be a woman broken.
"...Freya, I--"
By the Gods, it had a ridiculous feel even before the words had reached his lips. But when he finally returned his sight to Freya, he could not even care how he sounded in speaking it.
"...I know not when we will return, or what we bring to our homelands when we do. But I pray of you, carry this one thought back with you, if you can take naught else-"
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Gods, did it kill him to remember it. Just as it killed him to hear it, years ago. Yet perhaps he needed to hear it then... back when he still believed that he- that anyone could move mountains. That he, alone, could right the wrongs of the world itself on his own endeavor.
He wondered if Freya came to bear the weight of her world across her own back, as well.
"I fared no better, in the end," he spoke almost at a whisper as he peered out into the crowd. "I could forestall only the very worst of the war, and for all my labors I could not even save my family..."
Though she'd moved her hand off his shoulder, his hand soon fell upon hers in kind. He wished he could rouse her from her sorrow so easily, but... it wasn't his place. There was no room for platitudes or idle words of encouragement in what depths he could glimpse of it.
Yet... What familiar fathoms they were. And for her talk of failure, she stood too tall to be a woman broken.
"...Freya, I--"
By the Gods, it had a ridiculous feel even before the words had reached his lips. But when he finally returned his sight to Freya, he could not even care how he sounded in speaking it.
"...I know not when we will return, or what we bring to our homelands when we do. But I pray of you, carry this one thought back with you, if you can take naught else-"
"Do not give up."