[ Reyson has nightmares frequently enough that there's nothing odd about it. The fact remains that he is, once again, reliving his personal hell and there's nothing he can do about it. It's more of a lucid state, but oddly, less clear about the actual facts. His father, a tall man with long hair, staggers towards the window. His father, a short man with a short beard, on the floor, a pitchfork sunk deep in his back. The smoke is thick in all versions of this vision, and as he tries to escape, sometimes he is cut off from a carpeted hallway by a blocked door and sometimes he is cut off from a gap in the flaming trees by a volley of arrows. ]
This isn't how it happened!
[ It feels like it is, but. Surely, whatever fate guides the world wouldn't be enough of a bastard to give him two families and kill them both. Or it would, and he's in denial, crouched behind a tree as a winged figure flies up over the treetops and is promptly shot down. ]
I can't remember how many siblings I have, I just know... all of them are dead.
The Curse
[ Under the assumption that his willpower and experience with nightmares would protect him, Reyson elected to delve into somebody's mind to break the curse. It did not work. Thanks to the efforts and care of others, he did not bloodscream himself to death, but he did revive with a sore throat that he can't even complain about because he can't talk. He's healing quickly, but willing to take visitors for those who want to wish him well or talk to him without the threat of the sharp side of his tongue. ]
Winter Games
[ So of course after that he's quite relieved to have an excuse to go all out and battle viciously in the wanton display of violence that is ice hockey. He's not feeling like a proper gentleman. He'll dole out headbutts, he'll take an elbow in the face. He's not overtly smiling, but he radiates a ferocious sense of satisfaction. ]
Reyson | Fire Emblem Radiant Dawn | Gold | Novice
[ Reyson has nightmares frequently enough that there's nothing odd about it. The fact remains that he is, once again, reliving his personal hell and there's nothing he can do about it. It's more of a lucid state, but oddly, less clear about the actual facts. His father, a tall man with long hair, staggers towards the window. His father, a short man with a short beard, on the floor, a pitchfork sunk deep in his back. The smoke is thick in all versions of this vision, and as he tries to escape, sometimes he is cut off from a carpeted hallway by a blocked door and sometimes he is cut off from a gap in the flaming trees by a volley of arrows. ]
This isn't how it happened!
[ It feels like it is, but. Surely, whatever fate guides the world wouldn't be enough of a bastard to give him two families and kill them both. Or it would, and he's in denial, crouched behind a tree as a winged figure flies up over the treetops and is promptly shot down. ]
I can't remember how many siblings I have, I just know... all of them are dead.
The Curse
[ Under the assumption that his willpower and experience with nightmares would protect him, Reyson elected to delve into somebody's mind to break the curse. It did not work. Thanks to the efforts and care of others, he did not bloodscream himself to death, but he did revive with a sore throat that he can't even complain about because he can't talk. He's healing quickly, but willing to take visitors for those who want to wish him well or talk to him without the threat of the sharp side of his tongue. ]
Winter Games
[ So of course after that he's quite relieved to have an excuse to go all out and battle viciously in the wanton display of violence that is ice hockey. He's not feeling like a proper gentleman. He'll dole out headbutts, he'll take an elbow in the face. He's not overtly smiling, but he radiates a ferocious sense of satisfaction. ]