Federico nods. "Grief can cause...unpredictable results. You seemed quite upset when I mentioned it initially as well." Minds coping by suppressing what hurts most. Trauma. He's seen it in Richele, playing down the severity of his trials. Even in Vermeil, preferring to be angry than to hurt (until she was too tired to be angry, and crawled up into his lap to cry and cry, silent and pained. He never knew what to do then. Just to shield her from onlookers, and to treat the injuries she'd sustained... ....he's failing her by not being there to protect her anymore. He feels sick.)
Federico shakes himself. Some things cannot be helped. But he can do this.
He takes a breath. "I lack the proper archival tools, and I do not wish to risk damaging the will itself. I can recite it by memory, however."
As for the injury...pain as a grounding tool. That...he understands. It's what kept him afloat in encountering Ishar'mla here. Come to think of it...
There's a similar...clouding happening with Robin. He can only sense it when he focuses solely on her, through the clashing tones, the pain in his own mind...yes. It's like a heavy static is spreading over her own connection. Is it an emotional response...? He does not know.
Still. He can recite the will. It's something for them both to focus on.
So he places a hand over his heart, the box holding the paper. He recites it, word for word, as if the paper were in front of him.
He only falters on the last words. Just a little. Is he really a wonderful friend if he'd left Sunday to die alone? He doesn't know. He doesn't know.
"I could only retrieve Sunday's glove from the incident. That has been delivered to Fou-Lu. The rest...is in progress, as of now."
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....he's failing her by not being there to protect her anymore. He feels sick.)
Federico shakes himself. Some things cannot be helped. But he can do this.
He takes a breath. "I lack the proper archival tools, and I do not wish to risk damaging the will itself. I can recite it by memory, however."
As for the injury...pain as a grounding tool. That...he understands. It's what kept him afloat in encountering Ishar'mla here. Come to think of it...
There's a similar...clouding happening with Robin. He can only sense it when he focuses solely on her, through the clashing tones, the pain in his own mind...yes. It's like a heavy static is spreading over her own connection. Is it an emotional response...? He does not know.
Still. He can recite the will. It's something for them both to focus on.
So he places a hand over his heart, the box holding the paper. He recites it, word for word, as if the paper were in front of him.
He only falters on the last words. Just a little. Is he really a wonderful friend if he'd left Sunday to die alone? He doesn't know. He doesn't know.
"I could only retrieve Sunday's glove from the incident. That has been delivered to Fou-Lu. The rest...is in progress, as of now."