Destiney chewed on her lower lip as he finally admitted to part of what was troubling him. Saying she was sorry for his loss felt hollow. She knew the pain of that kind of loss. How much it hurt. Words seemed hollow in comparison.
There was an urge to hug him but knew he probably wouldn’t welcome the contact. Not that kind of contact. Especially in his current state. Instead she merely walked over to him and tried to lightly put a hand on his arm in a gesture of comfort. “Basteaux… I know words can not make this better… But I understand the feelings. Please don’t let this destroy you. I know we’re two different people. Yet I understand the rage and pain of that kind of loss. I was down that road when my father died to Imperials. Whatever you need right now… I’d like to be there for you.”
Every muscle tenses and Bast shifts slightly to move his arm away from the touch. There is no force in it, no raging strikes or violent brush-off; just a quiet rustle of fabric as he pulls away. “Going on four years,” he says, shaking his head. “I only found out recently. Between that bit of information and Briar, I don’t think–” he breaks off and reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose and rub the inner corners of his eyes. “How I feel about it makes no difference. She’s long gone now. The world is the same today as it was yesterday, or last year, or five years past; I already made sure of that when I removed her from my life. I have no right to mourn a loss I already forced once upon myself.”
Inhaling quickly, Basteaux lets the breath out in one short, sharp gust. “I need to stop allowing myself to drink to excess, remind myself of my place in this, and go home. Your offer of comfort is made out of kindness, but it’s more than I deserve.” Self-pity doesn’t weigh his shoulders, he instead glancing down at her with a quiet sort of pained resolve. “Goodnight.”
If Dest had fur she would have bristled like an annoyed cat. Thankfully she didn’t though. Stubborn male. Should just let him walk away. Should just let him be an idiot if that was what he wanted to do. Instead she found herself standing in front of him. All six fulms of sassy healer now that nothing else had worked.
“Basteaux…” She huffed before pulling the book from her waist and bringing it up to bop him lightly on the head, yet hard enough to make a point. “That is -not- a healthy way to deal. She is your sister for Twelves sake. You have every right to mourn her, four years late or not. My brother ran away from us at fifteen. Had I found out he died in the years he shut us out I would have still mourned his pain in the butt anyways. He is family to me just as your sister is family to you regardless of whatever happened between you. You may not think you deserve kindness but you are going to get it anyways because despite what -you- think… I think you do deserve it. That maybe it is long overdue even.”
Spirit of the Warlock 