[ There are ways to kill people without the accompanying pain, to apply pressure to a critical vein and cut off the blood before it reaches the heart. Adolf knows what that feels like, and this is it: the slow relinquishment of something vital. The only thing he has to give is a fractured soul, but he knows that once he hands it over, he doesn't expect it to come back to him.
He makes peace with that notion. These things have always been out of his hands.
Green eyes remain closed, in reflection or in cowardice, that's debatable. When they finally open, his gaze casts down to the indistinguishable shadow his bangs cast over his own face before it lifts to fix itself on Oona's big blues. Sinking is a good word to describe how looking at her makes him feel— submerged. ]
I know.
[ About her selfishness, which he finds infuriatingly endearing. He would have done anything for Rosa too, loved when she asked things of him, when she made him feel like he had things to give. That's a feeling that persists, a prevailing need to fulfill that one wish his mother had for him all those years ago.
His big hands cup Oona's face, keep her close as he inhales, exhales. ]
You should know by now that I won't tell you to leave. [ A beat, and he appends: ] 'Can't'. [ Because he feels like he owes it to her to be honest, on that front. ] Humans are weak, that way.
no subject
He makes peace with that notion. These things have always been out of his hands.
Green eyes remain closed, in reflection or in cowardice, that's debatable. When they finally open, his gaze casts down to the indistinguishable shadow his bangs cast over his own face before it lifts to fix itself on Oona's big blues. Sinking is a good word to describe how looking at her makes him feel— submerged. ]
I know.
[ About her selfishness, which he finds infuriatingly endearing. He would have done anything for Rosa too, loved when she asked things of him, when she made him feel like he had things to give. That's a feeling that persists, a prevailing need to fulfill that one wish his mother had for him all those years ago.
His big hands cup Oona's face, keep her close as he inhales, exhales. ]
You should know by now that I won't tell you to leave. [ A beat, and he appends: ] 'Can't'. [ Because he feels like he owes it to her to be honest, on that front. ] Humans are weak, that way.