[ Unconsciously, Carver finds himself reaching for his pendant. Rubbing his thumb along the surface of it. He'd kept it hidden under his shirt in this place, a secret he meant to keep to himself, but the shape and the texture comfort him now. A reminder of all that he's sworn himself to, and all that he's lost. Battle after battle, and still he ended up here alone.
Or maybe not quite alone, but not with his brothers, either.
He swallows hard. Staring at Harold, almost stricken. This is blasphemy, isn't it? ]
I did, [ he whispers, voice thick. ] But you had to know I was crazy.
[ There's something wrong with him, Carver knows. This is the very worst of his sins. That sometimes, every once in a while, his ghosts walk in his corners. Sometimes they talk to him. ]
cw: internalized ableism
Or maybe not quite alone, but not with his brothers, either.
He swallows hard. Staring at Harold, almost stricken. This is blasphemy, isn't it? ]
I did, [ he whispers, voice thick. ] But you had to know I was crazy.
[ There's something wrong with him, Carver knows. This is the very worst of his sins. That sometimes, every once in a while, his ghosts walk in his corners. Sometimes they talk to him. ]