Carlisle takes the communicator, puzzled as he finds his glasses and slides them on... and then even more despondent when he actually reads the message.
But with that hopelessness rises anger and frustration and bitterness, all so strong despite his fatigue. They emerge like beasts from a cave, ones that have been caged there far too long, and use his moment of weakness as a means for escape.
"You... you're sorry," he starts, his breath picking up, rasping in his throat. The light of the phone in his hand shakes as he trembles, unable to soothe his inward rage when he's fighting the chill and his head and his consuming guilt. "You're sorry because I suffer when I'm the one who did this to you? When I'm the one who didn't warn you immediately? When I'm the one who has the damned plants that he used against you?!"
He chokes on a lump in his throat, trying to swallow it down along with his ire. It's not Glacius he's mad at; it's never been Glacius.
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But with that hopelessness rises anger and frustration and bitterness, all so strong despite his fatigue. They emerge like beasts from a cave, ones that have been caged there far too long, and use his moment of weakness as a means for escape.
"You... you're sorry," he starts, his breath picking up, rasping in his throat. The light of the phone in his hand shakes as he trembles, unable to soothe his inward rage when he's fighting the chill and his head and his consuming guilt. "You're sorry because I suffer when I'm the one who did this to you? When I'm the one who didn't warn you immediately? When I'm the one who has the damned plants that he used against you?!"
He chokes on a lump in his throat, trying to swallow it down along with his ire. It's not Glacius he's mad at; it's never been Glacius.