[ Roland's disposition has lightened somewhat, but his mind was still racing. If he wasn't busy worrying quietly on his own about a particular friend who he hasn't heard from in days - though at the very least, checking the ICP three times a day gives him some reassurance that his SCA was intact - Roland worries about the upcoming mission. Were they going to be prepared? Were the supplies enough? Did Purple have enough information on what to do if an emergency happened?
His mind replays it. Over and over again. The Voidtrecker Express home world. A false sense of security. They thought they were winning. Suddenly, clouds, strange clouds, entities no one could read. The train panicking, leaving. Purple - so many of them, all of them fighting so hard - and then in a blink of an eye, gone. Two left. Two.
Were they helping the good guys? Was the void ministry right? Thoughts that linger all in constant flux, with no one to talk to. Only one other person knew his own hesitations, but they were hurting and he couldn't blame Tidus for retreating into his shell. Who wouldn't? But he worries, still.
He worries for the weight of the responsibility he is naturally inclined to carry. He worries if he might just be witness to yet another tragedy he could not stop. Another missile he couldn't prevent. Another wipeout on his ledger. A friend, a good friend, gone in a flurry of magic and light. ]
Let me just finish this...
[ He's writing, faster, more practiced. Like he's done this countless times before. He has. Roland relishes in getting work done because it calms him, steadies him. It gives him an outlet to think without reprimand. It's the air he breathes when he has nowhere, no one, to turn to. It always has been. It might always be. But Inigo is there, clinging to his arm, and he glances to his side when he approaches though the activity doesn't cease. Not immediately. After a long moment, with Inigo swinging his arm around back and forth, maybe a hug too tight against his limb, he finally stops. He exhales as if he was holding a breath in. The pen is dropped gently against the page of his book, and he closes it with his free hand. ]
Sorry. I'm here. [ He tries to smile for him, but finally in his face, there is a vision of tiredness. Fatigue. His mind is wearing him out, but he was still going. ] What do you need, Inigo? What can I do for you?
[ He shouldn't forget: this absence was hard on Inigo too. Perhaps harder on him, most of all. And he's been so sweet these past couple of days. Lingering, staying with him. Asking him for time, reminding him that it's dinner at the dining carriage. It brought him back to when Evan and Tani would force him, literally, to eat. Leander removing the papers from his desk so he'd have no choice but to take a nap. Bracken's competitive nature driving him to finish work faster so he could get eight hours of sleep. Inigo was doing all that for him, in his own way, and Roland sees it for what it is. He cares. But Inigo was also sad. He was also restless, and afraid. He wore his heart on his sleeve. Roland is starting to read him better now, too.
So he shifts back into his paternal instinct, though his mind is still chasing one thought after another, distracted... ]
no subject
[ Roland's disposition has lightened somewhat, but his mind was still racing. If he wasn't busy worrying quietly on his own about a particular friend who he hasn't heard from in days - though at the very least, checking the ICP three times a day gives him some reassurance that his SCA was intact - Roland worries about the upcoming mission. Were they going to be prepared? Were the supplies enough? Did Purple have enough information on what to do if an emergency happened?
His mind replays it. Over and over again. The Voidtrecker Express home world. A false sense of security. They thought they were winning. Suddenly, clouds, strange clouds, entities no one could read. The train panicking, leaving. Purple - so many of them, all of them fighting so hard - and then in a blink of an eye, gone. Two left. Two.
Were they helping the good guys? Was the void ministry right? Thoughts that linger all in constant flux, with no one to talk to. Only one other person knew his own hesitations, but they were hurting and he couldn't blame Tidus for retreating into his shell. Who wouldn't? But he worries, still.
He worries for the weight of the responsibility he is naturally inclined to carry. He worries if he might just be witness to yet another tragedy he could not stop. Another missile he couldn't prevent. Another wipeout on his ledger. A friend, a good friend, gone in a flurry of magic and light. ]
Let me just finish this...
[ He's writing, faster, more practiced. Like he's done this countless times before. He has. Roland relishes in getting work done because it calms him, steadies him. It gives him an outlet to think without reprimand. It's the air he breathes when he has nowhere, no one, to turn to. It always has been. It might always be. But Inigo is there, clinging to his arm, and he glances to his side when he approaches though the activity doesn't cease. Not immediately. After a long moment, with Inigo swinging his arm around back and forth, maybe a hug too tight against his limb, he finally stops. He exhales as if he was holding a breath in. The pen is dropped gently against the page of his book, and he closes it with his free hand. ]
Sorry. I'm here. [ He tries to smile for him, but finally in his face, there is a vision of tiredness. Fatigue. His mind is wearing him out, but he was still going. ] What do you need, Inigo? What can I do for you?
[ He shouldn't forget: this absence was hard on Inigo too. Perhaps harder on him, most of all. And he's been so sweet these past couple of days. Lingering, staying with him. Asking him for time, reminding him that it's dinner at the dining carriage. It brought him back to when Evan and Tani would force him, literally, to eat. Leander removing the papers from his desk so he'd have no choice but to take a nap. Bracken's competitive nature driving him to finish work faster so he could get eight hours of sleep. Inigo was doing all that for him, in his own way, and Roland sees it for what it is. He cares. But Inigo was also sad. He was also restless, and afraid. He wore his heart on his sleeve. Roland is starting to read him better now, too.
So he shifts back into his paternal instinct, though his mind is still chasing one thought after another, distracted... ]