[ The parallels continue — her world and Woodhurst seem to grow more and more alike, despite their best efforts. After the number of deaths and violence Lucina has experienced, the first one is the one she'd never forget; but then, whether that's because of the death or if it's because of the dead rising moments later, she'll never be certain of ( likely a bit of both; the idea of her comrade passing, but also the fact that she had to be the one to slay him. It's a cruel fate ).
Maybe that's why she recognizes Sieglinde's reactions, can read between the lines; because that was her, well over a decade ago. The reactions of her friends, that she had to watch time and time again, until none of them felt anything anymore. Her guts twist painfully, expression turning grim, before she reaches out to lay a hand on the girl's shoulder; none of this was supposed to happen ever again. ]
... [ Yet there's no words that can ease the grief ( she knows this ). She keeps the silence, as powerless as it is, in the hopes that it conveys more than what her words could possibly do. ]
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Maybe that's why she recognizes Sieglinde's reactions, can read between the lines; because that was her, well over a decade ago. The reactions of her friends, that she had to watch time and time again, until none of them felt anything anymore. Her guts twist painfully, expression turning grim, before she reaches out to lay a hand on the girl's shoulder; none of this was supposed to happen ever again. ]
... [ Yet there's no words that can ease the grief ( she knows this ). She keeps the silence, as powerless as it is, in the hopes that it conveys more than what her words could possibly do. ]