[He remembers more when he hears her voice. Dozens of iterations of 'Mr. Ulric'. Days of quiet conversation interspersed between gentle, if firm, orders. For a moment his heart aches for this Nyx's life. One where war was a distant past reserved only for rare nights when he couldn't sleep without dreams. Where he didn't have a cloud of failure chasing him, dogging his steps with reminders that his worth was only as good as his blade.
It was childish, but he wanted it all the same.
Nyx takes a deep breath to steady himself, shoving the wistful yearning as far down as he can. His lips form a "familiar" reply without thinking.]
Nyx, please.
[She might not remember for awhile that he doesn't belong in her life. He could (too easily) pretend it was real. Diving into that fond friendship without a single regret.]
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It was childish, but he wanted it all the same.
Nyx takes a deep breath to steady himself, shoving the wistful yearning as far down as he can. His lips form a "familiar" reply without thinking.]
Nyx, please.
[She might not remember for awhile that he doesn't belong in her life. He could (too easily) pretend it was real. Diving into that fond friendship without a single regret.]
It's good to see you again. You look well.