[It feels ugly, censoring himself. Jeremiah's used to a certain modicum of this for the sake of propriety, and while he's become much more lax with his companion, it's still there. Schooling his words comes naturally when he's operating in the capacity of his subordinate, and the inclination lingers in their down time all the same, but it's different. He takes pleasure in those moments, ones they didn't have time for when they were busy conquering the world, to just simply sit and converse, comfortably existing in each others realms.
The list of things unsaid feels like it's slowly growing, bit by bit, missed moment by moment even if would never come to light. There's a hollowness in Lelouch's eyes he catches from time to time, sometimes for mere seconds, sometimes for longer. As much as he'd proclaim his master to be infallible, he knows the pain exists no matter if he sees it, bereft of the things in his life he held dear. Burning bridges one by one and constantly searing himself in the process. If death was his release from the repercussions of his own life, he's been robbed of that too.
Selfish, so unforgivably selfish that he should be so glad his liege lives on regardless of his own desire to, cherished and brilliant and suffering.]
I would... venture to say differently, my lord. [He speaks haltingly once he finds his voice, his astonishment tempered but not silent. There's an iron grip wrapping its way around his chest, and he prays it loosens itself before it gets the better of him.] I've already found what I'm seeking at your side. This is where I wish to be.
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The list of things unsaid feels like it's slowly growing, bit by bit, missed moment by moment even if would never come to light. There's a hollowness in Lelouch's eyes he catches from time to time, sometimes for mere seconds, sometimes for longer. As much as he'd proclaim his master to be infallible, he knows the pain exists no matter if he sees it, bereft of the things in his life he held dear. Burning bridges one by one and constantly searing himself in the process. If death was his release from the repercussions of his own life, he's been robbed of that too.
Selfish, so unforgivably selfish that he should be so glad his liege lives on regardless of his own desire to, cherished and brilliant and suffering.]
I would... venture to say differently, my lord. [He speaks haltingly once he finds his voice, his astonishment tempered but not silent. There's an iron grip wrapping its way around his chest, and he prays it loosens itself before it gets the better of him.] I've already found what I'm seeking at your side. This is where I wish to be.