[Words that describe feeling — or the state of possessing them — slip through more and more often. It’s especially difficult for him to knowingly avoid them, still swimming in the wake of a failure that has the whole of the Circle reacting to it in ways to help them cope. Everyday he’s unravelling by small degrees, and everyday he tries to desperately gather up the thread to keep him whole — keep himself a machine, unbroken, adhering to his initial design.
Yet today? The images of a crumbling city, a world cracking under the pressure of their shortcomings, makes him not even want to bother. Only cling to the hopeful words he can manage to spout, and her agreement to them. There’s balance there to be found, if they can both believe in it.]
Exactly. It’s easy for our focus to be compromised for now — and understandable, too — but let’s not allow it to affect us for too long. I don’t want to resign myself to more failures just because I’ve experienced one.
[At her question, though, he pauses briefly.]
I’ve spoken to Hank. He isn’t taking it well. That’s… unsurprising to me.
She doesn't bat an eyelash at the quiet revelation that Connor and Hank come from the same place, but it does make her reflect slightly. If she ever has to choose between Hank's frenetic, talkative anger and Connor's polite, unerring calculations - well, it isn't difficult. She'd choose Connor every time.
Hank, she thinks, would have made a terrible soldier. She certainly wouldn't have trusted him to be near Chrom! ]
I hope he can find some solid ground before we are sent on our next mission.
[ There's more she has to say - maybe, a story about just one failure - but not yet. Let's see how they weather this, first. ]
[But the subject of Hank causes a long pause to settle between them as Connor finds himself caught between two stances. The first being the want to defend the Lieutenant, to tell her that he’s a good man tossed into circumstances otherwise difficult for most people to parse, much less accept in a short period of time. The other half is inclined to agree, memories of being dismissed and patronized muddying the waters.
He settles on something in-between.]
I assume you’ve spoken with him enough that he's given you this impression. Hank is… he has a lot of personal issues, ones that he has trouble dealing with in normal circumstances. Departed from home, his methods of coping have only worsened.
[ The way Connor describes it, it's difficult not to sympathise. Lucina is in much the same boat as the Hank he describes, even if her personal experience of the man has only borne friction, awkwardness, a vulgar-edged misery.
It doesn't change the fact that, right now, she wouldn't trust Hank to have her back.
... nor Connor's, if it came down to it. (But that's not up to her, is it?) ]
[The answer should be straightforward. Somewhat telling, then, how Connor gives yet another pause, parsing his reply.]
Like I said, reasoning with him is difficult. Which makes cooperation with him doubly so. I had tried to work with him again, as partners, like we were back in Detroit. But our failure on Akvos has just made him see it all as a useless endeavor.
[Hands curl into loose fists at his side, then relax again.]
Maybe I've miscalculated. Maybe my expectations are too high.
[ Thinking about it clinically, if Hank doesn't want to be Connor's partner and is wilfully refusing to cooperate, then there's no reason to pursue that sort of working relationship. However, Lucina knows it is never that simple when it comes to a loyal heart. ]
It can be quite difficult to change someone's mind once they're so set.
[ Hank sounds like quite a weak man, so ready to succumb to despair and give up trying. It's a condemning perspective based on limited interaction. She thinks it, doesn't say it. ]
I've said this before, but you are not without allies here, Connor. Friends. We failed, but - what's important now are the lessons we learn from it. We cannot do anything more for Akvos but we can keep what we have learned with us and take it to the next world. [ From how easily these words come out, it almost feels like a script she's memorised, or a mantra she's repeated to herself over and over. That doesn't mean they lack any especial humanity, however. Lucina couldn't be disingenuous if she tried. ] - I told you somewhat of my home, yes?
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Yet today? The images of a crumbling city, a world cracking under the pressure of their shortcomings, makes him not even want to bother. Only cling to the hopeful words he can manage to spout, and her agreement to them. There’s balance there to be found, if they can both believe in it.]
Exactly. It’s easy for our focus to be compromised for now — and understandable, too — but let’s not allow it to affect us for too long. I don’t want to resign myself to more failures just because I’ve experienced one.
[At her question, though, he pauses briefly.]
I’ve spoken to Hank. He isn’t taking it well. That’s… unsurprising to me.
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[
Lucina, that's so rude?She doesn't bat an eyelash at the quiet revelation that Connor and Hank come from the same place, but it does make her reflect slightly. If she ever has to choose between Hank's frenetic, talkative anger and Connor's polite, unerring calculations - well, it isn't difficult. She'd choose Connor every time.
Hank, she thinks, would have made a terrible soldier. She certainly wouldn't have trusted him to be near Chrom! ]
I hope he can find some solid ground before we are sent on our next mission.
[ There's more she has to say - maybe, a story about just one failure - but not yet. Let's see how they weather this, first. ]
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[But the subject of Hank causes a long pause to settle between them as Connor finds himself caught between two stances. The first being the want to defend the Lieutenant, to tell her that he’s a good man tossed into circumstances otherwise difficult for most people to parse, much less accept in a short period of time. The other half is inclined to agree, memories of being dismissed and patronized muddying the waters.
He settles on something in-between.]
I assume you’ve spoken with him enough that he's given you this impression. Hank is… he has a lot of personal issues, ones that he has trouble dealing with in normal circumstances. Departed from home, his methods of coping have only worsened.
[A beat, he frowns, clearly bothered.]
It makes trying to reason with him… difficult.
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It doesn't change the fact that, right now, she wouldn't trust Hank to have her back.
... nor Connor's, if it came down to it. (But that's not up to her, is it?) ]
Did something happen between the two of you?
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Like I said, reasoning with him is difficult. Which makes cooperation with him doubly so. I had tried to work with him again, as partners, like we were back in Detroit. But our failure on Akvos has just made him see it all as a useless endeavor.
[Hands curl into loose fists at his side, then relax again.]
Maybe I've miscalculated. Maybe my expectations are too high.
no subject
It can be quite difficult to change someone's mind once they're so set.
[ Hank sounds like quite a weak man, so ready to succumb to despair and give up trying. It's a condemning perspective based on limited interaction. She thinks it, doesn't say it. ]
I've said this before, but you are not without allies here, Connor. Friends. We failed, but - what's important now are the lessons we learn from it. We cannot do anything more for Akvos but we can keep what we have learned with us and take it to the next world. [ From how easily these words come out, it almost feels like a script she's memorised, or a mantra she's repeated to herself over and over. That doesn't mean they lack any especial humanity, however. Lucina couldn't be disingenuous if she tried. ] - I told you somewhat of my home, yes?