How strange it is to overlook the meadow and feel nothing at all.
He has his memories still, of course, but there is nothing attached to them. No bitter pang of nostalgia, no sensation of guilt or remorse for all the things he has done here. Alas, to be free of the bad means to also be free of the good and he feels no relief to be rid of the pain. There is no distant stirring of something warm in the cavern of his chest. There is nothing but the useless, stagnant heart.
Even when he catches sight of the curious child, teetering closer on young legs. He turns his once-proud head and watches, expressionless. And he might have summoned up a comforting smile once upon a time, ducked his head to make himself appear smaller. Even not knowing what has piqued the child’s interest, he would have made some effort to ensure that she knew he was kind. Nothing about him threatening other than his penchant for disappointing others. Surely she will come away disappointed, too.
Perhaps he does make some effort. Perhaps, if you looked closely, you might see the stirring of some distant smile twitching in the corners of his dark mouth. But perhaps it’s merely a trick of the light. It must be.
“Hello,” he says, plain. She is younger than the twins, certainly. And, in the end, he does duck his head, if only by fractions. To look her in the eye, perhaps, to scrutinize the serious expression she’s wearing. As far as he can tell, she does not look frightened. He finds no trace of panic in her face. But these observations are only that, there is nothing attached to them.
“Do you need help?” Years ago he might have felt a bone-deep worry for her safety, wondered why she was out here by herself. Alas, now he feels nothing as he watches her watch him.
@[Aela]