[ Cardia glances at the owls briefly, then glances down at her hands. ]
I don't know if they're able to watch over us, or see what's happening, so I didn't want to tell them things they might already know. And... I don't know what they'd want from me. Apologies, for not being able to protect them, or reassurances that we're going to try and save them...
If it helps at all, the ones I've been writing to, these past weeks... the ones who have written back, at least.
[ He'll shift, a little, rummaging through the pile of parchments and letters for a few that look older than the rest. They're marked up, transcribed and corrected, jotted down on in the margins, but... despite how strange it feels, like he's airing something private, words originally meant only for him, he'll allow her to glance through them, briefly.
As she goes through them his smile is nothing but soft. ]
They've been nothing but encouraging, for the most part. In their own ways, I mean. I know my former partner may not have gotten on with many of the others here, but... he wants the same things that all of us do. I can't tell you what you should say, but they are watching us. Maybe they can't watch everything, but they do try. I'm sure they'd understand if your letters were a little meandering.
[ Cardia looks at him uncertainly at first, as though she's not entirely sure that he's willing to let her read such private messages. Even then, she only glances through them briefly, taking note of how all of the messages, even Fitzgerald's, hold a note of encouragement to them.
... Ah. ]
I really want to save them all.
[ And she takes a deep breath. ]
... Thank you, Ion. It's good to know that they're at least aware of what's going on.
[ He'll take them back quickly once she's done, collating and folding them back into order in what looks to be a practiced motion before he shakes his head. ]
There's no need to thank me. Like I've said, we all want for the same things. It's only natural that we assist each other in order to reach that ending.
[ a pause, then, his expression turning owlish. ]
Whom was it that you were intending to write to, if I may ask?
There are a lot of people I want to talk to, but...
[ Cardia readjusts her cap, taking a pensive pause. ]
I wanted to write to Varian first. He... ended up in a situation that was entirely too cruel. [ from fulfilling his objective, to losing Fane, to being executed like that... ]
[ He settles back into his seat a bit, seeming slightly surprised before his expression gentles. ]
... I think he would appreciate such a thing. Even if he said it all would be worth it if he could save his father... well, I don't know how satisfying a wish like that would be, without the ability to see it for oneself.
[ A small quirk of his smile. ]
Don't word it as something pitying, or overly sorry for him. I suspect some condolences would be better received than others.
... If it was me, I wouldn't want pity either. But my father also used to be my whole world, and even if I don't know the whole situation... I think I can understand how he felt, at least a little. And I want him to know that I care.
Then I think your support might be well-received. If you can think that you understand him to even some extent... well, it's better than talking down to him.
I know of at least one person who's offended him that way, even if I don't know whether or not they meant to. But Varian ... he really does try to put up a strong front, doesn't he?
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[ His own letters are, most likely, not much better. But his head does tilt, inquiring. ]
Do you simply not know what to say to them, or is it something else?
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[ Cardia glances at the owls briefly, then glances down at her hands. ]
I don't know if they're able to watch over us, or see what's happening, so I didn't want to tell them things they might already know. And... I don't know what they'd want from me. Apologies, for not being able to protect them, or reassurances that we're going to try and save them...
I don't know.
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If it helps at all, the ones I've been writing to, these past weeks... the ones who have written back, at least.
[ He'll shift, a little, rummaging through the pile of parchments and letters for a few that look older than the rest. They're marked up, transcribed and corrected, jotted down on in the margins, but... despite how strange it feels, like he's airing something private, words originally meant only for him, he'll allow her to glance through them, briefly.
"Thank you... It means more than I can say in a simple letter. Just know my gratitude knows no bounds." "Please take care..." "There is no need to ask for my forgiveness." "I know it’s hard, but we believe in you. We'll help you however we can from here."
As she goes through them his smile is nothing but soft. ]
They've been nothing but encouraging, for the most part. In their own ways, I mean. I know my former partner may not have gotten on with many of the others here, but... he wants the same things that all of us do. I can't tell you what you should say, but they are watching us. Maybe they can't watch everything, but they do try. I'm sure they'd understand if your letters were a little meandering.
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... Ah. ]
I really want to save them all.
[ And she takes a deep breath. ]
... Thank you, Ion. It's good to know that they're at least aware of what's going on.
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There's no need to thank me. Like I've said, we all want for the same things. It's only natural that we assist each other in order to reach that ending.
[ a pause, then, his expression turning owlish. ]
Whom was it that you were intending to write to, if I may ask?
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[ Cardia readjusts her cap, taking a pensive pause. ]
I wanted to write to Varian first. He... ended up in a situation that was entirely too cruel. [ from fulfilling his objective, to losing Fane, to being executed like that... ]
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... I think he would appreciate such a thing. Even if he said it all would be worth it if he could save his father... well, I don't know how satisfying a wish like that would be, without the ability to see it for oneself.
[ A small quirk of his smile. ]
Don't word it as something pitying, or overly sorry for him. I suspect some condolences would be better received than others.
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... If it was me, I wouldn't want pity either. But my father also used to be my whole world, and even if I don't know the whole situation... I think I can understand how he felt, at least a little. And I want him to know that I care.
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I know of at least one person who's offended him that way, even if I don't know whether or not they meant to. But Varian ... he really does try to put up a strong front, doesn't he?
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[ not always, anyway. And he'd let her hug him. ]
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[ it isn't as if it should matter here. what should the opinion of strangers mean to someone possibly seeking validation? ]
... It really is unfortunate, the circumstances he left us in.