What-ifs don't feed bellies. What-ifs don't keep people safe when someone else wishes to harm them. What-ifs don't – do fucking anything.
[ Magic is one giant what-if – the only thing he can believe in. Action, however, is a catalyst for that magic. He uses it as freely as fire, as precise as a bow. Wriothesley can assume so much about the boy, but that crack... vulnerable and splintered was telling enough. ]
Lynette is safe. That's what matters. [ His admission was swallowed with his voice hollow as it was. ] A judge saw my punishment as suitable in this time, so I will see it through. Whatever happens during it... who can tell.
Best to rein it back in, he realizes. Cool as he normally keeps, even Wriothesley isn't above being seized by his passions. He can't force rebirth, or reflection, or much of anything that falls outside of Meropide's written rules. What he can do is remember that these things vary with each individual. That reckonings move on slow legs. That Lyney is his own person, no matter...
No matter how much this whole ordeal reminds Wriothesley of his own past.
That's all the motivation he needs to put the argument aside. He's traveled quite enough of that avenue today. The two stacks of envelopes sit like sentinels, suggesting what he'd rather not consider. ]
You're not wrong. [ Said bluntly, but gently, too. ] Wishes don't change what ultimately is. Mine never did. But they did help me see the scope of my sin. They didn't change the past--they cast it under new light.
[ He crosses his arms. Multiple truths can exist at once. Neither of them have to be wrong. ]
...Very well. You accomplished what you set out to do, and nothing changes that. So be it.
The only what-if there is... is if I killed him, Wriothesley. I'd still end up here.
[ There's no other – even with the flames of his hatred and protectiveness for Lynette burning like an inferno. Hellfire, the kind that would consume him if he isn't careful. Leaving him alive was not an option.
The room feels smaller, more somber. There's something lost in the way Lyney looks to him – as if expecting more scoldings on a trial no one asked him to partake in. It doesn't work out that way. Lyney stiffens his shoulders and pulls his hat off his head. He's so... young, eyes once bright a bit more clouded and hair unkept for once. Promise stands before Wriothesley, but so does determination.
Does it bother him he's so sure of his choice?
Lyney doesn't know. ]
So be it. I'll leave you to your tea, please send one of your subordinates to let me know when the letters are marked received.
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no subject
[ Magic is one giant what-if – the only thing he can believe in. Action, however, is a catalyst for that magic. He uses it as freely as fire, as precise as a bow. Wriothesley can assume so much about the boy, but that crack... vulnerable and splintered was telling enough. ]
Lynette is safe. That's what matters. [ His admission was swallowed with his voice hollow as it was. ] A judge saw my punishment as suitable in this time, so I will see it through. Whatever happens during it... who can tell.
no subject
Best to rein it back in, he realizes. Cool as he normally keeps, even Wriothesley isn't above being seized by his passions. He can't force rebirth, or reflection, or much of anything that falls outside of Meropide's written rules. What he can do is remember that these things vary with each individual. That reckonings move on slow legs. That Lyney is his own person, no matter...
No matter how much this whole ordeal reminds Wriothesley of his own past.
That's all the motivation he needs to put the argument aside. He's traveled quite enough of that avenue today. The two stacks of envelopes sit like sentinels, suggesting what he'd rather not consider. ]
You're not wrong. [ Said bluntly, but gently, too. ] Wishes don't change what ultimately is. Mine never did. But they did help me see the scope of my sin. They didn't change the past--they cast it under new light.
[ He crosses his arms. Multiple truths can exist at once. Neither of them have to be wrong. ]
...Very well. You accomplished what you set out to do, and nothing changes that. So be it.
no subject
[ There's no other – even with the flames of his hatred and protectiveness for Lynette burning like an inferno. Hellfire, the kind that would consume him if he isn't careful. Leaving him alive was not an option.
The room feels smaller, more somber. There's something lost in the way Lyney looks to him – as if expecting more scoldings on a trial no one asked him to partake in. It doesn't work out that way. Lyney stiffens his shoulders and pulls his hat off his head. He's so... young, eyes once bright a bit more clouded and hair unkept for once. Promise stands before Wriothesley, but so does determination.
Does it bother him he's so sure of his choice?
Lyney doesn't know. ]
So be it. I'll leave you to your tea, please send one of your subordinates to let me know when the letters are marked received.
[ A gentle request, if only for his heart. ]
Work awaits.