Elisabeth's words tore Felix's heart, nipping bits and pieces, until there was nothing left but a discarded lump of shivering flesh. Quietly, the large man stirred in place, his foot twitching into a series of light taps against the dying grass. It was easier to focus on the soft vibration his tappings pushed out, or the soft thud of the toe of his shoe thumping against the ground

It took a second, but he finally mustered enough strength to hammer out another uncertain murmur.

"Who's that someone for you?"

It must've been a sudden question, but for Felix, after feeling backed into a corner by his own thoughts, it was exactly what he needed to make by. To focus not on himself, but on another. Like always.

Elisabeth Fiorelli

Cold realization clawed at his face. It was selfish to hear the unraveling of one's peculiar circumstances and think inwardly about oneself, but when Elisabeth confided in the loss she felt toward that special someone, Felix's chest enclosed on itself.

Thoughts began to leak through words, and for this silver of a moment, the barrier of dialogue cease to exist.

It was just him, a close friend, and the static of the material world around them. No more, no less. Here, in the isolation they've created, the thoughts he kept shut became a river of consciousness he hadn't felt since his early years as a youth, when the world still felt open and grand and bright and everything it wasn't.

"How does it feel like? Trusting someone like that."

His vision grew small -- a symptom of the glare he cast down at the tombstone. At that moment, the name that frowned back at him was that of his father.

"And how do you know that someone is the right person?"

Elisabeth Fiorelli

The croak of her voice immediately drew his attention back to her.

Dead father be damned, at this moment, the harrowing instability in Elisabeth's words swelled in importance. There was no other person, thing, or event that could dismantle the sheer urge he felt to keep his eyes locked onto hers.

Slowly, her words unraveled herself to him. Like a flower that only blooms once a year, Felix was captured by the rare sighting of a woman he'd equate with the image of strength itself. His fingers twitched with every continued word she spoke in a way unfamiliar to what he was used to.

"Let me be that person for you then."

It was a naïve thing to say, though, he didn't know it. Too caught up in the desire to offer the security to which she hungered, and by that, remove the possibility of ever being left to shatter.

Elisabeth Fiorelli

Oh.

Felix had expected hesitancy from her, even some initial backlash, but nothing along the lines of a full-on retreat back into the shadows of the fog. Like a knife being jabbed into his chest, the stoic man stood there, dazed by what he'd just seen.

"If that's how you feel."

Gaze drowning back down to the foreign tombstone, Felix turned his back to her, unable to meet her eyes. Shoulders hunched, head dangling forward, for once, the guardsman had to put effort into steeling his expression back down into stony normalcy.

'It's a rare and precious thing to share with someone' -- her words continued to rattle in his head, each trilling syllable coming off as nails grating against a chalkboard. Since birth, he'd been stripped of these intrinsic experiences, as his parents thought it wise only to offer their love in bite-size dog treats instead. And now, even as a grown man, these snack-size dog treats of affection were all he could ever trudge up.

"I'll head out then," He tersely stated. "My brother is waiting for me at home."

Elisabeth Fiorelli