[ It's a loaded question and a loaded conversation for a lighthearted soiree. There are sprites and glittering mistletoe sprigs overhead, weightless post-dinner conversations around, and they'd talk about crimes of state instead.
But this suits him better, anyway. He's not one for parties, and has no reason—no right—to hide his mistakes. ]
...In my youth, there was a great tragedy that befell our Kingdom. I was never able to bring the culprits behind it to justice, or truly help their victims. I executed the very last of my family. I accepted war when it battered at our doors. [ He accepted it, fought in it, and failed to end it. What worse combination is there? Remembering the violence drains him, a weariness settling deep in the dark of his eyes before he closes them. ] But my failures were many—it would be easier to write you a missive.
[ He takes a stiff sip of his drink as an escape, practiced at this atmosphere but by no means comfortable. Despite Laurent's thorny, confident attitude before, he sees the same awkwardness in him, too. It's almost comforting to not be alone in it. Though it's curious—most young nobles were better than Dimitri at blending into festivities like this. ]
Waiting to come of age... [ Was that customary, or did his father die? ] Did you wish to be king? [ Dodging the crown isn't such a terrible fate, he thinks but refrains from saying. ]
no subject
But this suits him better, anyway. He's not one for parties, and has no reason—no right—to hide his mistakes. ]
...In my youth, there was a great tragedy that befell our Kingdom. I was never able to bring the culprits behind it to justice, or truly help their victims. I executed the very last of my family. I accepted war when it battered at our doors. [ He accepted it, fought in it, and failed to end it. What worse combination is there? Remembering the violence drains him, a weariness settling deep in the dark of his eyes before he closes them. ] But my failures were many—it would be easier to write you a missive.
[ He takes a stiff sip of his drink as an escape, practiced at this atmosphere but by no means comfortable. Despite Laurent's thorny, confident attitude before, he sees the same awkwardness in him, too. It's almost comforting to not be alone in it. Though it's curious—most young nobles were better than Dimitri at blending into festivities like this. ]
Waiting to come of age... [ Was that customary, or did his father die? ] Did you wish to be king? [ Dodging the crown isn't such a terrible fate, he thinks but refrains from saying. ]