It has often been said by many that Cecil's greatest strengths are also her greatest weaknesses. Her merciful nature, her kindness, her loyalty... These are by far the traits that have brought both wonderful people into her life, and also great pain and suffering— and not just to herself but to those around her more significantly. As much as she has paid for her sins and actively risked her life to set things right, the knight-queen knows she can never, ever repay her debts to society. Here, things are different purely because of circumstance, but she carries on her shoulders the burden of rebuilding her world and the guilt of the lives she took, always.
An argument could be made that her offer to Ignis was made out of good intentions, but she would ask herself later if her mercy merely served as a thin veil for her selfish need to atone for her past, even when she was far from home and no one here personally was someone who had suffered under the dark knight's steadfast devotion to her king.
It's a lovely evening. The air is crisp and clean from day's rain and the green grass glistens with dew in the fading light of the sunset. The sky is a gradient of colors and Cecil sits beside Ignis, holding his hand and describing it to him, because it's a shame to not be able to share such a sight in the most literal of ways, she thinks. Her words, though, don't do it justice. She is no poet.
"...Would you... like to see it yourself?" the half-Lunarian asks after a bit, her voice soft and a little tight with apprehension. She's considered this for a while, but hasn't yet had the courage to broach the subject. She turns to look at Ignis, hesitating as she tries to gauge his reaction to that before pressing on. "I... I have an idea."
needofvision; 1
An argument could be made that her offer to Ignis was made out of good intentions, but she would ask herself later if her mercy merely served as a thin veil for her selfish need to atone for her past, even when she was far from home and no one here personally was someone who had suffered under the dark knight's steadfast devotion to her king.
It's a lovely evening. The air is crisp and clean from day's rain and the green grass glistens with dew in the fading light of the sunset. The sky is a gradient of colors and Cecil sits beside Ignis, holding his hand and describing it to him, because it's a shame to not be able to share such a sight in the most literal of ways, she thinks. Her words, though, don't do it justice. She is no poet.
"...Would you... like to see it yourself?" the half-Lunarian asks after a bit, her voice soft and a little tight with apprehension. She's considered this for a while, but hasn't yet had the courage to broach the subject. She turns to look at Ignis, hesitating as she tries to gauge his reaction to that before pressing on. "I... I have an idea."