Ravus barely holds back the startled sound when Gladio launches into it like that. There's a hurt sort of surprise to the way his eyes widen, and he can't even think to bite back. And maybe, somewhere in his heart where all the doubt and feelings of failure make their mire, there's a little slope to climb out of the muck. One Gladio demands he drag himself up on.
He's quiet a long moment while he struggles with it, while he tries not to keep sinking. Weighed down by his own resolve so long, this sort of thing he treads with all the grace of a newborn fawn. But eventually, he finds hit footing. Or tries, anyway.
"We... by the end, all we did was fight. She'd get so angry with me, she'd cry, and I'd relent because I couldn't bear knowing I'd been the cause of those tears." Ravus shakes his head, and draws his legs up closer to his chest, shoulders tucked where he folds his arms overtop his knees. For someone not far from Gladio's size, he manages to make himself miniscule like that. "Up until Altissia. When I knew the end was not far, and I knew I could not save her. Those few days... those were the quietest we ever were. She was so sickly, torn apart by the covenants."
His voice shakes at the edges, the faintest hitch in his breath that he tries to hide by breathing deep, and measuring each one.
"I never got the chance to apologize. For everything. I couldn't even think to ask if she still loved me after what I'd done. I wasn't ready to hear what I worried might be the answer. I just... I wasn't ready to lose her. In body or heart." A shuddering exhale; he'd forgotten to count that one out. "You're not wrong, though. She loved the world so much, she wanted to die for it. I can't ignore that I was part of that world too, that she must have loved me still, despite it all. But I'm afraid this hole in my heart, when I cannot beg her forgiveness, leaves room for all the worst parts of me to fill. The ones that waver. The ones that aren't enough."
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He's quiet a long moment while he struggles with it, while he tries not to keep sinking. Weighed down by his own resolve so long, this sort of thing he treads with all the grace of a newborn fawn. But eventually, he finds hit footing. Or tries, anyway.
"We... by the end, all we did was fight. She'd get so angry with me, she'd cry, and I'd relent because I couldn't bear knowing I'd been the cause of those tears." Ravus shakes his head, and draws his legs up closer to his chest, shoulders tucked where he folds his arms overtop his knees. For someone not far from Gladio's size, he manages to make himself miniscule like that. "Up until Altissia. When I knew the end was not far, and I knew I could not save her. Those few days... those were the quietest we ever were. She was so sickly, torn apart by the covenants."
His voice shakes at the edges, the faintest hitch in his breath that he tries to hide by breathing deep, and measuring each one.
"I never got the chance to apologize. For everything. I couldn't even think to ask if she still loved me after what I'd done. I wasn't ready to hear what I worried might be the answer. I just... I wasn't ready to lose her. In body or heart." A shuddering exhale; he'd forgotten to count that one out. "You're not wrong, though. She loved the world so much, she wanted to die for it. I can't ignore that I was part of that world too, that she must have loved me still, despite it all. But I'm afraid this hole in my heart, when I cannot beg her forgiveness, leaves room for all the worst parts of me to fill. The ones that waver. The ones that aren't enough."