Those Soft Feathers [Cyrus, Helle]

It was perhaps not something Cyrus wished to do, to come to this place. It was something he wondered if he even had the right to do. He knew that he had betrayed Helle's trust, and certainly had not ever been what she had deserved. Even now, he had delayed his visiting her for so long. Was she not still someone he should consider a friend? A comrade?

She was, and he knew that. That was what made it all the more cruel that he had not so much as come to ensure her well-being. Perhaps he had learned less than he would have liked, but that only steeled his resolve to learn more. Knocking on the door, Cyrus announced his presence, and he was let in by the small woman that seemed to have been caring for Helle and guarding her throughout their stay.

How he loathed being here. Not for the sake of seeing Helle, but for the fact that he knew he had come infinitely later than would have been right. That he had done nothing for her. Not before, and not now. All that he could do was enter with a deep bow, and speak in a soft voice, lacking any of his typical presence.

"I am sorry for not coming sooner, Helle."

Cyrus should find himself lucky that Helle could not see him. He should find himself lucky that he comes to her when she is unable to move her body, bedridden and held down by her own heavy weights. Even her eyes lie bandaged and blinded due to her vision becoming all too sensitive to any form of light. All she has to recognize him by is his voice. Oh, how she should have told Raphaela to keep this man away from her, to let her rest without ever having to perceive his existence. That would leave things unresolved though, and she would forever remain bitter. With a heavy sigh, she relented her selfishness and turned her head just that bit towards the man. Maybe it is fair that she had lost all since of her properness with him around, a familiarity he should understand. He was one of the only people she ever allowed for honorifics to drop for. Still, the fact she answered him with a particular title should settle what has become of them.

"What do you want, Grandmaster?"

Perhaps he ought not have come at all. It was all too clear, from the moment she spoke, that he had been gravely mistaken. He had perhaps thought too highly of himself once more, assumed far too much. Even now, it seemed that hubris had not escaped him. Cyrus thought, briefly, to simply leave. To plainly state that he had made a mistake in coming, and to go. But whether or not that was the correct course of action, it was not the one he would make.

"I wished to see after your well-being."

It was simple enough, and he knew that it was perhaps even hollow, having failed to do that very thing so many times before. But even if he had failed her before, that did not mean that he simply ought to continute to do so forever. Was it not right to worry after her, when she had returned to the Vandenreich in such a state?

"As you can see, I am doing splendid."

She can't see though, so she's unsure if she does, in fact, look splendid. For all she knows, her caretaker could have failed at dressing her properly or something. Her hair is probably a mess. When was the last time she combed it? She disliked having him see her as what she is, but that is unavoidable. It is a wonder why she would care at all. Should he not be informed of her wretched state? Does he hate it? Is he feeling bad? She doesn't know if she cares that much, honestly. If he feels a certain way leaving here, he has someone waiting to hold him in their arms and chase away the bad thoughts. She does not.

"Is seeing me the extent of your reasoning? I suppose it is very much the same as everyone else's."

She changed her position, bettering her posture. She was starting to feel uncomfortable, laying down like a lump of coal.

How biting. He supposed that was only fair, wasn't it? In another circumstance, he might have sighed, but he knew that would be unjust, unfair. It was, after all, his own fault for not coming sooner, and for leaving her alone yet one more time.

"Is that not reason enough? To be concerned for the well-being of one of my fellow members of the Vandenreich?"

It was the only thing they shared any longer, he supposed. He would have been naive to think anything differently, wouldn't he have? But Cyrus was realizing more every day that he was remarkably naive.

"If I had not returned, would you have concerned yourself."

She shook her head lightly. No. That was a cruel thing to say. Hearing herself barking at him like a peeved mutt brought forth a sigh as she shifted more. For some reason, she's finding it hard to better herself atop her bed.

"Too many are concerned about me. It's almost sickening really. Even when bedridden, I am still but a spoiled brat."

Ah. That is something they still share, a common personality trait that has forced them to butt heads before. She is as prideful as him, and maybe it is just the normal route people like them travel down. Yes. It is only a formality that they've both lost it all. It is only fair he has started building himself back up before her. He has suffered for longer. That does not sully her pain. It doesn't fix her heart or bring back what she has lost. This attack she is launching does nothing but ruin what is left between the two, another thing she will come to regret, hate, and despair over. What will save her here? What will save him? Another deep sigh. She's smart. She knows what they both require here. Will she survive it though? That is the question.

"...Maybe it hurts so much because I have yet to give up on you. I'm sorry I couldn't get to you, Azmi."

Cyrus could not bear to look at her as she spoke those words. Not because they offended him, or sickened him, but because he knew exactly how genuine they were, how earnestly she meant them. Helle was a good woman, and he knew entirely how much he had failed her. He knew, too, that to ruminate on those things would only be the wrong thing. But that did not make it any easier to step forward, to improve.

"If there is anyone that should apologize, Helle, it is I, for always stepping away as you reached out to me. For not being near good enough of a man to listen to your words."

He still did not consider himself a good man, not anything even close. But the time had come to stop caring about such things. He was not here for his own sake, and his own well-being was now all but irrelevant to him.

"I am sorry that I failed you so gravely, Helle."

"It is okay, Azmi. I understand, and I do hope that you give Arcadia the love you could not give me."

There was something final about her words, the ease at which she had transitioned between formality and casual talk. Her eyes had moved to the device beside her, taking note of how it did not stir. Funny. She had expected to grow unstable with this man so close, but she feels nothing but a strange calmness. Maybe she had simply lost all of it from the time she had almost died. Maybe she has actually developed. Though, she knows she is in pain. She knows he brings her pain, but it is a necessary pain.

"I'm sorry for not being the one for you. Do not feel sorry, my dear. I will always, strangely enough, hold you in high regard. No matter what mistakes you've made, have made, and will make, I am and will forever be the Grandmaster you handpicked to lead the Sternritter."

She knows she will feel anger at times. She knows she will forever hold a grudge, but there's a strange weight off her shoulders, as if she can finally begin to move on.

How did she know? The fact that she knew only pierced Cyrus' being all the more, and for all of his collected nature, he could not fully hide the fact that it had surprised him, that it had caught him off guard. He felt remarkably weak, remarkably foolish, and yet he knew that he could not react any more than he had. After all, if he lost his composure here, how selfish would that have been?

"I have the fullest faith in you, and in your ability to fulfill such a role. I would never think anything else."

He wished to say a great deal more, but he did not believe that he had any right to do so. How could he? This was, ultimately, a conversation that was only about Helle. He did not wish to make it about himself, and that was tremendously difficult for him. That was, whether he wished to admit it or not, the only way that he had ever thought about the world.

"I have not shown you the respect that you are due. For that, I cannot ever apologize enough. I will do whatever I must to correct that moving forward, as Grandmaster."

Cyrus wished to say that he could have said that much as a friend, as well, but that was a claim he did not dare to make.

She chuckled. If only she could see his face... She wonders what expression he wears, what expression he had worn when he first walked in, what expression he'll don in the near future. She is a curious woman, a creature born to chase her wants and desires, and had she not done just that? It seems as before, now and forever more, she may be trapped in an endless cycle of running and falling. She had lost those she had felt close to so long ago, and now, today, she feels a strange sensation washing over her. Is she cutting him off, finally? Ah, she had felt her heart close to him as they interacted, but she did not understand why her heart was simply trimming him away like wilted leaves. She disliked such. Does he desire to still know her? Does she desire to still know him? She can call him friend, but will she ever truly mean such again?

There is a lot for her to ruminate on, and it will not come with him here. It will not come while she sits, tired and wounded. Everything about her is still healing, and only time will tell the finally that they are. Maybe Arcadia will turn him into a better person. Maybe they'll drag each other down into Hell. That's too much thinking for her though, for now.

"Do come again if you need of me. I am old enough to hold a professional conversation, at least."

Some more humor followed by another chuckle. When has she ever been anything but immature?