If there was any consolation to be found it was that she didn't seem to be taking the discovery of the body any easier than him. From a young age he'd been taught to bottle up his emotions and keep them hidden from the world, but staring down at the body it was all he could do to keep his uneasiness limited to a light shaking in his chest. Don't be a coward. You didn't know him, he told himself, and then repeated the same sentiment again and again in slightly different words. He needed to be strong; he was tired and in pain and felt gross, but there would be plenty of time to work through that when he wasn't below deck on a sinking ship and when he wasn't in the company of someone he wouldn't be able to bear being emotional around.
Still, watching her treat the body with such tenderness and care he found that his resentment towards her temporarily faded. He watched her spellwork in awe, wondering where she'd learned to do that—but more pressingly how often she had to do this. The thought of any young woman dealing with the dead on a regular basis left a bad taste in his mouth, but watching her... he supposed women had a tenderness to them that made them suited to it (in a weird sort of way).
Part of him was glad they would be leaving the man behind, because the thought of carrying a body halfway across the ship when they weren't yet certain of how easy escaping would be sent another surge of anxiety through him. And yet, as she turned away from the body and moved past him, he found it difficult to trek forward, and even when he turned to follow he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder.
He could have been a good person. He felt it nagging at him. I could stay, he should have said, I could stay and you could get someone to collect him. If he'd been in the man's position he wouldn't want his body left in the water. Maybe the man was dead and didn't even know how his body was left, but.. he'd always believed there was some sort of afterlife for the people who didn't become ghosts, so maybe the man did know where his body was. Maybe he was crying out for them to take him with them, to deliver him back to his wife or children or parents or whoever he had who was safe at home.
But he didn't. He tore his gaze from the body and turned back towards Yaxley, who was facing away from him and was suspiciously still. He put a hand on her shoulder—the best comforting gesture he could manage given their limited acquaintanceship and the tense day they'd had—and moved past her, further into the kitchen. "There should be a door around here. It'll get us out," he said quietly.
Still, watching her treat the body with such tenderness and care he found that his resentment towards her temporarily faded. He watched her spellwork in awe, wondering where she'd learned to do that—but more pressingly how often she had to do this. The thought of any young woman dealing with the dead on a regular basis left a bad taste in his mouth, but watching her... he supposed women had a tenderness to them that made them suited to it (in a weird sort of way).
Part of him was glad they would be leaving the man behind, because the thought of carrying a body halfway across the ship when they weren't yet certain of how easy escaping would be sent another surge of anxiety through him. And yet, as she turned away from the body and moved past him, he found it difficult to trek forward, and even when he turned to follow he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder.
He could have been a good person. He felt it nagging at him. I could stay, he should have said, I could stay and you could get someone to collect him. If he'd been in the man's position he wouldn't want his body left in the water. Maybe the man was dead and didn't even know how his body was left, but.. he'd always believed there was some sort of afterlife for the people who didn't become ghosts, so maybe the man did know where his body was. Maybe he was crying out for them to take him with them, to deliver him back to his wife or children or parents or whoever he had who was safe at home.
But he didn't. He tore his gaze from the body and turned back towards Yaxley, who was facing away from him and was suspiciously still. He put a hand on her shoulder—the best comforting gesture he could manage given their limited acquaintanceship and the tense day they'd had—and moved past her, further into the kitchen. "There should be a door around here. It'll get us out," he said quietly.
set by lady <3