"I see...it. It seems like a heavy responsibility." It also sounds alot like Banshee work. Not that Federico understands that very much either. An Executor works with what can be done after death. What's left behind. What...
His grip tightens on Casper's clothing. "C-Can you...sense Sunday's spirit? Is it...is he at peace, at least? I-I- shouldn't ask- that but-" and then it's just. Too hard to speak. Tears really only seem to hinder instead of help.
And why do Casper's words hurt? He...knows he's offering condolences. Counsel. And yet Federico chokes on a sob when he makes guesses about what happened. It's unraveling something within, the dam holding these emotions back. Yes. He tried to save Sunday. But it wasn't enough. It's...not a reflection of character, is it? He's an Executor. It's what he's supposed to do. He's a dear friend. But... The helplessness, the inability to do anything about it now...he presses his face closer against Casper's chest, as if hiding.
He hears a fowlbeast nearby, and feathers brushing the back of his neck. Bob seems. More intuitive than one would expect.
Federico shakes his head, coming apart at the seams. "N-No. You should- you should know. The mirrors. Reflections- they- they come out. Force...they force others in- they. They took Sunday, they-" And the last of his composure comes apart in quiet, broken sobs, stilted and halting as one who doesn't...have much experience grieving openly like this. Being held together by the kindness of another. Casper needs to know. He needs to know the danger they're facing...
Federico needs to...protect the others. It was Sunday's last wish. He keeps coming back to that. But... "I...don't know how," he whispers, as if confessing something terrible. "Even just the idea of standing right now seems impossible. I don't..." So Casper needs to know. He needs to know.
Federico does relax a bit when the embrace tightens.
Don't try to make sense of them...? But then how can he learn? How...
Questions without answers. He's been faced with more and more of those lately, hasn't he...but it's the most sound advice he's gotten so far. Still... "It d-does not feel okay," he murmurs, almost petulant. ((Feels bad, 0/10 experience)) "But...I will try. I...I thank you for th-the help-" He still doesn't have his breathing under control. But listening to Casper, and the hug, Bob's soft feathers pressed in...it's calming, in its own way. He's grateful.
((Federico would mourn you, Casper. He mourns Noah, who he barely knows. In fact if he knew you're in fact dead, he'd probably try and get a will from you too, if there's anything unfinished that needs doing. It's a. Love language?? Shang Beida would of course mourn Casper, as would Aventurine, Neuvillette, and many others surely...))
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His grip tightens on Casper's clothing. "C-Can you...sense Sunday's spirit? Is it...is he at peace, at least? I-I- shouldn't ask- that but-" and then it's just. Too hard to speak. Tears really only seem to hinder instead of help.
And why do Casper's words hurt? He...knows he's offering condolences. Counsel. And yet Federico chokes on a sob when he makes guesses about what happened. It's unraveling something within, the dam holding these emotions back. Yes. He tried to save Sunday. But it wasn't enough. It's...not a reflection of character, is it? He's an Executor. It's what he's supposed to do. He's a dear friend. But... The helplessness, the inability to do anything about it now...he presses his face closer against Casper's chest, as if hiding.
He hears a fowlbeast nearby, and feathers brushing the back of his neck. Bob seems. More intuitive than one would expect.
Federico shakes his head, coming apart at the seams. "N-No. You should- you should know. The mirrors. Reflections- they- they come out. Force...they force others in- they. They took Sunday, they-" And the last of his composure comes apart in quiet, broken sobs, stilted and halting as one who doesn't...have much experience grieving openly like this. Being held together by the kindness of another. Casper needs to know. He needs to know the danger they're facing...
Federico needs to...protect the others. It was Sunday's last wish. He keeps coming back to that. But... "I...don't know how," he whispers, as if confessing something terrible. "Even just the idea of standing right now seems impossible. I don't..." So Casper needs to know. He needs to know.
Federico does relax a bit when the embrace tightens.
Don't try to make sense of them...? But then how can he learn? How...
Questions without answers. He's been faced with more and more of those lately, hasn't he...but it's the most sound advice he's gotten so far. Still... "It d-does not feel okay," he murmurs, almost petulant. ((Feels bad, 0/10 experience)) "But...I will try. I...I thank you for th-the help-" He still doesn't have his breathing under control. But listening to Casper, and the hug, Bob's soft feathers pressed in...it's calming, in its own way. He's grateful.
((Federico would mourn you, Casper. He mourns Noah, who he barely knows. In fact if he knew you're in fact dead, he'd probably try and get a will from you too, if there's anything unfinished that needs doing. It's a. Love language?? Shang Beida would of course mourn Casper, as would Aventurine, Neuvillette, and many others surely...))