[ For a long while he is silent. It is a little cruel, truly, to ask him to relive that time in a moment like this. And just the mention, just the little question, it's enough to make it all flooding back, in vivid detail. Every sensation, every word said, every moment of it. The way the soil he was laid upon felt, the hand in his hair, the way scorching hot iron brand bit into his flesh to the very bone...
He inhales sharply with a soft wheeze and his voice sounds openly pained when he finally does speak. ]
... the grief is too fresh still, and the pain of those memories runs too deep. [ Strained, on the very verge of breaking. ] Not even my father has heard the story, I cannot share it.
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He inhales sharply with a soft wheeze and his voice sounds openly pained when he finally does speak. ]
... the grief is too fresh still, and the pain of those memories runs too deep. [ Strained, on the very verge of breaking. ] Not even my father has heard the story, I cannot share it.
[ He is not ready to speak of it. To anyone. ]