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shiminonHe went home for a stupid reason, didn't he?
Shinon huffed at the massive axe that Caineghis removed from its spot back then. He had no right to even touch the damn thing, in Shinon's mind - he didn't like it that Ike had wielded the mighty axe after Greil's death. It almost made it impure. If the King of Gallia had just minded his own business and kept his paws off of the weapon, Ike wouldn't have had to wield it.
Still, stupid reason. Stupid Shinon. What sort of excuse did he have to visit his grave, anyways? Greil wasn't his father.
He wished he was.
Ike was an undeserving brat who didn't give two shits about who his father was. Shinon, on the other hand, revered the man and looked up to him like he hadn't with anyone else in his entire life.
He respected him.
The wind whipped about in fervent gales. On normal visits, he might step up and graze his hand over the blade of the axe, but he didn't feel so compelled to this time. Yet another thing was taken from him, and that was the pure significance of that axe. Who it really belonged to. It still reminded him of his commander, but the commander's son had stained this once-majestic weapon with his own swing.
Yes, because Ike deserves his father's axe. It's only his father's.
He fumed quietly, thinking about that blue-haired piece of work. He hated that insolent boy, but he couldn't deny his accomplishments. He couldn't deny his brilliance, and he couldn't deny how he had grown to impress. All of which made Shinon detest him that much more. But he reminded himself that he was here, so he might as well spend his time without thinking bitterly of Ike. He should focus his attention on someone who deserved it a little more.
The archer took a casual seat next to the axe, noting the flowers that seemed like they might have been there a couple weeks. They were protected from the wakeful gusts thanks to the shield of Urvan's broad blade, but it was clear that some of the daisies had managed to skitter away. Shinon wondered if Ike even remembered today's date. He snorted, imagining him forgetting entirely.
Because Commander Greil should not be so easily dismissed from memory. He couldn't understand how it was so easy for Ike to let go while he was still stuck tripping over the day he died. He couldn't let it go. He sat up at night, wondering where they would be today, wondering where he would be, wondering if there was something he could have done. Yes, he would do anything to get his beloved commander back.
He missed Greil a great deal. He wished a man of his unprecedented standing didn't have to go die in a way unlike how he imagined a commander like him should go. War was one way to die, but to die at the hands of one single man? Shinon didn't understand why Greil let it happen. There was no way anyone could beat him. Not anyone. Was there some reason he couldn't understand? What was there for him to die for that day?
The mercenary fiddled with the handle of the legendary axe. No use in letting it be, since idiots had already been leaving their fingerprints all over it. He would be just one more idiot to taint its splendor and the memory that coupled it. The sniper raised Urvan into the air with as much strength as he could muster. How could his commander wield such a mighty axe? With one hand, no less? He swelled with pride, remembering the general fondly. Full of power, authority, wits of a seasoned war general, and yet, at the same time, he was kind and accepting. He had taken him in when it seemed nobody wanted the snarky archer, and on top of that he treated him with dignity and never underplayed him. Greil taught him like no other bothered to, and that meant more than its face value to Shinon.
Nobody commanded Shinon's admiration like Greil once had. He still did.
He tossed the axe to rest upon his shoulder, rebounding against its weight. He experimentally swung against the air, taking extra care not to loosen his grip for fear he would send the weapon - or himself - into the river. It was difficult, this technique. Shinon continued to admire Greil's prowess, unable to fathom how he would ever wield such a massive axe the way he could. Yes, he was powerful. He was more powerful than anyone in the world, in Shinon's eyes.
That wasn't the part that mattered the most to the redheaded sniper, though. It was the man beneath the famed prowess that took the greatest affect on him. It left its mark on his soul and Shinon never wanted his companionship with him to end. It was days like these when he wondered whether or not dead people were still alive in any sense at all, and if they were, he wondered if Greil was still watching him somehow. Watching him grow stronger, watching him cave under the force of his own son, watching him on nights that he wanted to give up and drown himself in liquor. Would Greil tell him that he was proud, or would he tell him that he was ashamed of what had happened to him?
Shinon stuck the blade of the axe into the ground, leaning his weight against the support of Urvan. He knew the guidance Greil had once given him was far from enough, but it was the most he could get. He knew Greil wasn't around to scold him to get a hold of himself. Greil couldn't tell him he was doing well, and he couldn't tell him to stand down or rethink that or hear him out or tell him he's wrong. Because nobody else can tell Shinon that he's wrong except for the man he respects. Respected. Still does respect even though he's a dead man.
He faced the wind, keeping his eyes open on purpose. It justified the liquid that pooled from his eyes.
Not once did Shinon's mind drift to any blood father of his. On this day, he couldn't help but let his mind linger on the memory of his fallen commander, Greil. At the same time, he felt guilty, for Greil wasn't his father. But what if he was? He couldn't resist holding onto that wish until the day he too lay under mounds of dirt.
Shinon huffed at the massive axe that Caineghis removed from its spot back then. He had no right to even touch the damn thing, in Shinon's mind - he didn't like it that Ike had wielded the mighty axe after Greil's death. It almost made it impure. If the King of Gallia had just minded his own business and kept his paws off of the weapon, Ike wouldn't have had to wield it.
Still, stupid reason. Stupid Shinon. What sort of excuse did he have to visit his grave, anyways? Greil wasn't his father.
He wished he was.
Ike was an undeserving brat who didn't give two shits about who his father was. Shinon, on the other hand, revered the man and looked up to him like he hadn't with anyone else in his entire life.
He respected him.
The wind whipped about in fervent gales. On normal visits, he might step up and graze his hand over the blade of the axe, but he didn't feel so compelled to this time. Yet another thing was taken from him, and that was the pure significance of that axe. Who it really belonged to. It still reminded him of his commander, but the commander's son had stained this once-majestic weapon with his own swing.
Yes, because Ike deserves his father's axe. It's only his father's.
He fumed quietly, thinking about that blue-haired piece of work. He hated that insolent boy, but he couldn't deny his accomplishments. He couldn't deny his brilliance, and he couldn't deny how he had grown to impress. All of which made Shinon detest him that much more. But he reminded himself that he was here, so he might as well spend his time without thinking bitterly of Ike. He should focus his attention on someone who deserved it a little more.
The archer took a casual seat next to the axe, noting the flowers that seemed like they might have been there a couple weeks. They were protected from the wakeful gusts thanks to the shield of Urvan's broad blade, but it was clear that some of the daisies had managed to skitter away. Shinon wondered if Ike even remembered today's date. He snorted, imagining him forgetting entirely.
Because Commander Greil should not be so easily dismissed from memory. He couldn't understand how it was so easy for Ike to let go while he was still stuck tripping over the day he died. He couldn't let it go. He sat up at night, wondering where they would be today, wondering where he would be, wondering if there was something he could have done. Yes, he would do anything to get his beloved commander back.
He missed Greil a great deal. He wished a man of his unprecedented standing didn't have to go die in a way unlike how he imagined a commander like him should go. War was one way to die, but to die at the hands of one single man? Shinon didn't understand why Greil let it happen. There was no way anyone could beat him. Not anyone. Was there some reason he couldn't understand? What was there for him to die for that day?
The mercenary fiddled with the handle of the legendary axe. No use in letting it be, since idiots had already been leaving their fingerprints all over it. He would be just one more idiot to taint its splendor and the memory that coupled it. The sniper raised Urvan into the air with as much strength as he could muster. How could his commander wield such a mighty axe? With one hand, no less? He swelled with pride, remembering the general fondly. Full of power, authority, wits of a seasoned war general, and yet, at the same time, he was kind and accepting. He had taken him in when it seemed nobody wanted the snarky archer, and on top of that he treated him with dignity and never underplayed him. Greil taught him like no other bothered to, and that meant more than its face value to Shinon.
Nobody commanded Shinon's admiration like Greil once had. He still did.
He tossed the axe to rest upon his shoulder, rebounding against its weight. He experimentally swung against the air, taking extra care not to loosen his grip for fear he would send the weapon - or himself - into the river. It was difficult, this technique. Shinon continued to admire Greil's prowess, unable to fathom how he would ever wield such a massive axe the way he could. Yes, he was powerful. He was more powerful than anyone in the world, in Shinon's eyes.
That wasn't the part that mattered the most to the redheaded sniper, though. It was the man beneath the famed prowess that took the greatest affect on him. It left its mark on his soul and Shinon never wanted his companionship with him to end. It was days like these when he wondered whether or not dead people were still alive in any sense at all, and if they were, he wondered if Greil was still watching him somehow. Watching him grow stronger, watching him cave under the force of his own son, watching him on nights that he wanted to give up and drown himself in liquor. Would Greil tell him that he was proud, or would he tell him that he was ashamed of what had happened to him?
Shinon stuck the blade of the axe into the ground, leaning his weight against the support of Urvan. He knew the guidance Greil had once given him was far from enough, but it was the most he could get. He knew Greil wasn't around to scold him to get a hold of himself. Greil couldn't tell him he was doing well, and he couldn't tell him to stand down or rethink that or hear him out or tell him he's wrong. Because nobody else can tell Shinon that he's wrong except for the man he respects. Respected. Still does respect even though he's a dead man.
He faced the wind, keeping his eyes open on purpose. It justified the liquid that pooled from his eyes.
Not once did Shinon's mind drift to any blood father of his. On this day, he couldn't help but let his mind linger on the memory of his fallen commander, Greil. At the same time, he felt guilty, for Greil wasn't his father. But what if he was? He couldn't resist holding onto that wish until the day he too lay under mounds of dirt.